It's a Sniper.

You know, I've almost had this blog for two years. I started it on November 28th, 2010. I'm only lacking four days from my anniversery. I think maybe in the start I planned on blogging a lot. I talked about Anne Frank, my writing inspiration in nearly anything personal. But I really haven't, I've never been consistent with the blog. And I would promise now, but I can't. Why make promises when they're so fragile, I know I won't be in here all the time. This blog is here for me when it is needed. And that's good, good for me and for the people who read it. Though, honestly, over the past two years I only think there are about maybe eight or nine people who have read my blog. And if you're not in that group, let me know. Who are you? Why are you out there? And it seems to me there would be no reason for someone to read my blog, unless they really wanted to know. That doesn't seem to fit in the pattern of my life, I want to know people, I really do. If I was find out if anyone in my life kept a blog I would actively read it, but you know, they don't. And somehow in turn no one really wants to know about me. I mean, maybe there is someone who does, but really there seems to not be. I don't know. And how self-centered is that, I want people to really want to know me. It's like I'm waving a flaming flag in the air and saying, 'Here! Look at me! I'm right here!", but no one ever looks. And if people do look they don't see, not really, they see the outside. Here I am, here is your perception of me. Would you like that on a silver platter? Because I know, I just know, that you won't make the effort to see beyond. And really, why would you.

Let me tell you this, loneliness, she is a sneaky little bitch. She's like this. Imagine me, perfectly content and happy, and then there's my loneliness, living in the back of my mind, waiting to pounce. And she does, all the time. I know she's there too, hiding in the back of me at all times, but yet every time she attacks I am surprised. And it's that surprise, the surprise that hurts me the most. Shouldn't I know I am a lonely person? I know myself, right, or at least part of it. That loneliness, it should be part of the things I know. But I don't. I really don't, and it scares me. There's so much dimension too it than just meets the eye too, because it's substance comes from the moments that the loneliness chooses to appear. Hear me out , okay? I feel less lonely when I'm physically alone than I would when I am surrounded by a group of people. At least when I'm alone, I mean really alone, I have my music, and books, and writing. And they, they are such good friends to me, they keep the loneliness at bay. But with others, with people, it's so ahrd not to feel it. It's like I with them and I know. I can tell from their attitudes, their gestures, their everything. My presence in their lives is fleeting, without me there would no difference, and even if I was to leave than perhaps it would even be better. And I try to be normal, I really do. Normalcy is the hardest thing to grasp. I mean, I speak and I amke jokes and I smile but I can't help but thinking in my mind if they even hear me. Can they really see me? And they can't, they can't understand me. And I'm screaming in my head, it's a torture. Can't you see me!?! Can't you hear!?!
I just want so badly to truly be seen that I don't even no how to handle myself. I don't even know if I can function around people anymore. I mean I can. I am the best actress in the world when it comes to pretending things are okay. I really am. But I'm not, because it hurts. It hurts a lot that no one cares to really no.
And this, this is the worst part. My loneliness it something that has become part of me. I just know it's there. I just know no one will understand me. That's a such a teenager move, I know. But people don't, they really don't. And it's not the lack of understanding that causes the hurt. It's something else. It's the fact that no one even wants to understand. No one even tries to care.
I don't even know if I want someone to understand, because I really think they never will. But I do wish that they would try. Do you know how great it feels for someone to really, really care? Even if they don't care, but they care enough to try. I don't have that. I don't even know if I have friends at all. And the uncertaintity of it hurts me so much. I just, I want to know that someone really cares.
A lot of people say they care but they don't. But really, most of them, most of them just ignore it, ignore me. They walk around pretending they know me or maybe not and they don't see. They don't want to see.

I know I need to stop thinking about this but I really can't. I don't need someone to understand, I need someone to try to. Because no one is.

Fin.
-Keshia