Sorry... Again

I know I haven't been here for too long. But writing stuff here just sometimes makes things go bad, so I guess I needed the break.

It's always hard to keep a secret from your closest friend. It's even harder to explain it when they find out by themselves. I simply hate that disappointed look that screams "Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were best friends!". What can I do? A secret is only a secret as long as you keep it to yourself, no matter how much I trust my friends. Lately there have been a lot of secrets to keep. Slowly I'm starting to wonder if I'm the only one having privacy problems out here.

Some people never change. I know many people of that kind. Some of them I count as friends and want them to stay the way they are, some of them I count as acquaintances and pray to God that they will please change to the better some day, or even better, some time soon. It's not their reputation that makes me judge them or any other prejudices. It's their behavior in the past that makes me cautious around them and lets me think twice before saying or doing anything. One person in particular should change. He (yes, he) has so many sides to him that I'm not always sure which is the true one. Mostly I think it's the negative side, as wonderful as it were if he really was the nice guy. The worst thing about him is not his character though; it's the lies. I always find out in the end, and every time I've known since the beginning, but I still stick to him, because he makes me feel okay for once. No matter how it hurts to know the truth, it's hard for me to let go.
I think what captures me is his warmth. It's fake, that warmth, like a heat lamp instead of the sun. But it feels fine. I feel fine when I'm around him, I'm not that empty anymore. Despite what others think of me, I'm not such a happy person. I'm actually not okay at all. I'  could say something really kitschy now like "he's like the sun and I'm the flower" but that wouldn't be right. It's not like that. The flower and the sun live symbiotically. But in my case, I'm the flower in a dark room, and hes just a light bulb somewhere high above me, barely reachable, barely shining, barely even there.

Being depressed can really make my thoughts sound poetic. I wonder if the famous poets of our time were depressive or at least sad when they wrote their masterpieces. Sadness is such a beautiful thing, to think about it. It makes you deepest thoughts, desires and regrets come to the surface in a single salty drop from your eye. Sadness itself is poetry.

xxx