Daft

What happens when you don't know what to feel, because you don't know what is socially acceptable to feel?

Is it ok if I feel down during Christmas dinner, and everyone else is happy?

That didn't exactly happen tonight, but something someone said (or rather, revealed) bit me, and I'm still looking at the wound and thinking, "What next?" Sometimes, there are no words to describe misunderstanding. Misinterpretation. Failure to make yourself understood, failure to be perfect, failure to be a model of what's right but being wrong, all wrong, totally irrevocably wrong.

That dislike, that scorn, the shaking of the head fills me with shame, digs a pit in that cannot be filled, a sucking black hole.

And yet, I ask myself, why? Why do I sometimes, so carelessly, make others feel this way when I know how its like myself? To know, and to have the fact jammed into your face, that you are not perfect (and never will be). That your lack of a firm, stubborn opinion will more often work against you than for you. No one wants a reed, only strong oaks.

And all I am left with are regrets and torn bits of paper and half-smiles and a longing for what could have been.

P/S: Sorry...rather confused and thrown off course at the moment. What if I am everything that is wrong, what if all my reasons are excuses, my answers lies? Can I face myself? I want to go home, I want to run...and I will go home, soon; but the life I lead here will resume once I come back, like taking an old coat off the hanger and wearing it again.

Oh bother. I need counselling. I need someone to tell me what to do. I need to not have a mind of my own, because all my decisions come out all wrong.