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Jul. 2nd, 2004 02:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morganknightReading back through this journal was a mistake. Opening up to the first page, reading my writing -- back when I was happy, carefree, and alive -- it's a person I no longer recognize. Was that truly me, just six months ago? Did I once believe in myself? Did I once see the slightest hope of happiness, somewhere in the dark clouds? Did I once care? Did I once live?
I don't remember that boy any more.
::A harsh scratch of ink, a jagged rough line across the page. A testament to frustration::
The English language doesn't have the words I need.
Katie is really bad off. I know preeclampsia is bad, I knew it when I heard it, but to actually see her suffering from it... I felt her whole body shake with every heartbeat. I heard her breath rasping in her chest. She pretends she's fine, she ignores what she feels because she doesn't want to feel that way, and she's going to kill herself. Or her baby. The second might be worst than the first, because she'd have to live with the knowledge the rest of her life. I tried so hard to get through to her, and she didn't hear a word I said. She never does.
No one ever does.
Fallon. Cat and Stephen, so many times. Irina. Vee. Katie. Cadence. Angelin. Lila. Nhairis. Andrea.
Reading back through my journal was a mistake, because it reminded me of how many people I've hurt, I've failed, I've let down, I've disappointed. In six months of knowing people, living, being their friends, or their family, or their interests... I haven't done anything but fail. I've done nothing but harm any of them. I've done nothing right.
I remember the dreams Stephen and I had of the Holotheater. The grand plans. Sitting up late talking about it, not caring or worrying about our futures. The dream we had. Now he's moved on -- he's found a new dream. He's found a new place, and I sit in the Holotheater and remember what will never ever be.
I remember the old days, of dental flirtation, remember the first time I met Katie -- she was terrified of me. Maybe it would have been best for her if she'd stayed that way, if she'd never let me into her heart. Maybe she would be happier, or better off, if not for my constant failures. She has seizures because of me, still, today. She almost relapsed today, because I couldn't talk sense into her. Seamus is going to kill me, one of these days, or make the attempt. I honestly believe that more and more, as I make and fail each attempt to befriend him or help Katie. Someday I will hurt her, and he will lose control of his temper, and attack me.
So many potentials, so many futures, wasted.
Dental flirtation, back in the day with Cat. Till Stephen crushed and I stepped aside, and now I'm barely friends with either. At what point did that go wrong? At one point did our friendships degrade? Irina's flirting, dancing, song quotes... And yet I failed there too, I tried too hard and made all the wrong moves, and now she barely tolerates me. Crushing on Vee. I should have never said anything to anyone, I should have let it fade, and perhaps then we could be better friends than we are. Cadence... God, I remember the possibilities there so well, the futures I dared to dream of. Kisses in a limo with Angelin. Going to the farm with Lila.
So many possibilities, gone. Only this cold bleak lonely world remains.
::A couple of stains dot the page. It looks as if some liquid had been dropped on it::
Weakness. Weakness and failure are the legacy of Morgan Knight. Some days I think the only honorable course of actions I could take would be to drive my blade home one last time, and let my worthless lifeblood find some fulfillment at last in watering *grass* at least... But I would hurt the people in death that I hurt in life. Blind and deaf, I fumble on, leaving pain and destruction in my wake, and yet I cannot bring this journey to an end! Trapped! Trapped in a shell of existence!
...I'm glad I have this journal, now. I could never tell anyone this. No one would want to hear it. No one would care. Just more whining from that brat of a Knight. That whiny, snot-nosed little brat we wish we could get rid of, but is beneath our notice to swat.
I just have to keep going. I just have to be strong. Until I can fight my battles and win them. Until I can do something RIGHT, just once, by someone. Until I can give, and not take; fight, and not fall.
Or until no one cares any more, and I can end it all in peace.
I'm glad I keep this journal. I just wish I hadn't kept it in the past.
I don't remember that boy any more.
::A harsh scratch of ink, a jagged rough line across the page. A testament to frustration::
The English language doesn't have the words I need.
Katie is really bad off. I know preeclampsia is bad, I knew it when I heard it, but to actually see her suffering from it... I felt her whole body shake with every heartbeat. I heard her breath rasping in her chest. She pretends she's fine, she ignores what she feels because she doesn't want to feel that way, and she's going to kill herself. Or her baby. The second might be worst than the first, because she'd have to live with the knowledge the rest of her life. I tried so hard to get through to her, and she didn't hear a word I said. She never does.
No one ever does.
Fallon. Cat and Stephen, so many times. Irina. Vee. Katie. Cadence. Angelin. Lila. Nhairis. Andrea.
Reading back through my journal was a mistake, because it reminded me of how many people I've hurt, I've failed, I've let down, I've disappointed. In six months of knowing people, living, being their friends, or their family, or their interests... I haven't done anything but fail. I've done nothing but harm any of them. I've done nothing right.
I remember the dreams Stephen and I had of the Holotheater. The grand plans. Sitting up late talking about it, not caring or worrying about our futures. The dream we had. Now he's moved on -- he's found a new dream. He's found a new place, and I sit in the Holotheater and remember what will never ever be.
I remember the old days, of dental flirtation, remember the first time I met Katie -- she was terrified of me. Maybe it would have been best for her if she'd stayed that way, if she'd never let me into her heart. Maybe she would be happier, or better off, if not for my constant failures. She has seizures because of me, still, today. She almost relapsed today, because I couldn't talk sense into her. Seamus is going to kill me, one of these days, or make the attempt. I honestly believe that more and more, as I make and fail each attempt to befriend him or help Katie. Someday I will hurt her, and he will lose control of his temper, and attack me.
So many potentials, so many futures, wasted.
Dental flirtation, back in the day with Cat. Till Stephen crushed and I stepped aside, and now I'm barely friends with either. At what point did that go wrong? At one point did our friendships degrade? Irina's flirting, dancing, song quotes... And yet I failed there too, I tried too hard and made all the wrong moves, and now she barely tolerates me. Crushing on Vee. I should have never said anything to anyone, I should have let it fade, and perhaps then we could be better friends than we are. Cadence... God, I remember the possibilities there so well, the futures I dared to dream of. Kisses in a limo with Angelin. Going to the farm with Lila.
So many possibilities, gone. Only this cold bleak lonely world remains.
::A couple of stains dot the page. It looks as if some liquid had been dropped on it::
Weakness. Weakness and failure are the legacy of Morgan Knight. Some days I think the only honorable course of actions I could take would be to drive my blade home one last time, and let my worthless lifeblood find some fulfillment at last in watering *grass* at least... But I would hurt the people in death that I hurt in life. Blind and deaf, I fumble on, leaving pain and destruction in my wake, and yet I cannot bring this journey to an end! Trapped! Trapped in a shell of existence!
...I'm glad I have this journal, now. I could never tell anyone this. No one would want to hear it. No one would care. Just more whining from that brat of a Knight. That whiny, snot-nosed little brat we wish we could get rid of, but is beneath our notice to swat.
I just have to keep going. I just have to be strong. Until I can fight my battles and win them. Until I can do something RIGHT, just once, by someone. Until I can give, and not take; fight, and not fall.
Or until no one cares any more, and I can end it all in peace.
I'm glad I keep this journal. I just wish I hadn't kept it in the past.
