< 22nd august 2022 >
dear diary,
ik i do this too often to the point this should be an "open letters" collection instead of "open diaries" but aren't diaries also just letters one addresses to themselves? so i'll let this remain and continue
to the person who everything is always about... god i'm so fucking confused and fragile, fragmented by you i never know where to start. today i found your spotify, yk i would know you anywhere. the same way you've forever had this ability to recognize me from a distance, even when i would delebratly be hiding from your vision, as if you had my accessories, hairstyles, clothing memorized (all of which i did have memorized for you)
i decided to give your new music taste a listen, i heard all the songs by your fav indie japanese artist that have translations and lord why couldn't you have told me before? those lyrics are belladonna slowly spreading through my veins, making me collapse and vomit disgusting clouds with stingy bloodshot eyes while i die. the song you love, that one you put in your playlist twice is the worst of all. he sings "i am small when i touch the kindness, your heart is too big for this world" kindness, kindness, kindness and running away from it is all that song sings. i can never forget the way you constantly repeated "you're still forgiving, still too kind, the kindest person ever" 2 years ago in that online apology letter you sent me.
the other song from your 'beautiful' playlist. please don't "be the first to forget" please don't ask me "what's the use of hating each other now?" my reverie, hating you keeps me alive. i think to myself that you're just an arrogant bastard with a god complex but i can't help being so used to seeing past that seamless mirage and it hits me everytime i catch myself being you, doing all the things you do, thinking i can belong in the sky where you stay, mirroring your old hand gestures, expressions, even my handwriting was taken from yours but yours has changed now. it is an epiphany that you're not the person i despise, but the dignified reflection of me i adore
but i've worn out my skin waiting and waiting and assuming and sobbing and sleeping. you don't know this but i'm an atheist yet i pray each time the earth rotates for a situation to kill all the people on the globe for seconds and only keep us alive — so that you're not ashamed of me or being seen near me and communicate through actual words instead of lonesome wide gazes that i'm tired of comprehending. from a long time i've been trying to figure it out and now i finally know that closure is not what i seek. all i need is a long conversation with you, which explains the reoccurring dreams. also i have known how playing pretend kills you but please laugh and speak like you used to for i am not a kind or gentle soul in any way and that wellness of your existence is the only thing in this vast multi or uni verse that taught me to create walls that make you seem gentle. my star-eyed misery, please be. be as naturally as intellect comes to you and, as naturally as you are caged to be as atlas in my irises forevermore because you carry the world, as naturally as i won't ever want any other shade of blue but you, as naturally as i accept my position as a footnote in your story, as naturally as you are omnipresent.
i'm sorry, i hope you never find or read any of this please.
infinite apologies,
someone
YOU ARE READING
open scarlet letters
Non-Fiction"we're so young but we're on the road to ruin, we play dumb but we exactly what we're doing we show off, our different scarlet letters" (new romantics, taylor swift) the chronicles of a not very stable person recorded through diary entries. a new a...
