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Why don't I just pretend? -- 2001-08-24
I feel miserable. There isn't one reason why I feel this way, I just do. I need to get out of this rut life. It sucks that I've been in this rut for the longest time. It's become second nature to me that it almost stopped bothering me. In other words, I got used to it. But, I don't want to get used to it. I want to get out and do something important in this life. I just want to touch one person's heart and/or mind with my words. There are times when I know that I'm a good writer, and that if I get on a jag I can write until I get too tired. However, I so rarely take advantages of those times when I do get a bit of inspiration. I always have something unimportant and stupid to do instead. I really should stop that.

I'm lonely. I have this great empiness inside of me right now. I don't want to sit here and write these feelings, I want to talk to someone. But, there isn't anyone out there who... it's the same story, isn't it? The solitude is crushing, like a mountain of dirt falling on over me and suffocating me. I feel that my love life as of last has been like that old Nat "King" Cole song, Pretend. If I remember the lyric right it goes something like this.

"Pretend your happy when your blue. It isn't very hard to do. And you'll find happiness without an end... whenever you pretend. Remember anyone can dream... and nothing's bad as it may seem. The little things you haven't got, can be a lot, if you pretend. You'll find the love you can share... one you can call all your own. Just close your eyes... she'll be there... you'll never be alone. And if you sing this melody... you'll be pretending just like me. The world is mine, it can be yours my friend... so why don't you pretend."

I'm been pretending to being happy alone, but I'm not. I do need someone to share my life with. The problem is that I seriously think that there isn't anyone out there who is capable of loving me. Call me crazy but I doubt that there is a kindred spirit for me. Knowing that fact is disheartening. I remember that a few years ago I wrote a poem about how I thought that my true love was buried in some grave somewhere, and that I would never met her because she passed away before we met. I think that's more true now than when I wrote it.

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