Friends and Confusion

I have wonderful friends. I don't think they know how important they are. What brought on these feelings? Actually, I've felt this way for a long time, but I rarely express it. Maybe I should open up to each person rather then blogging thoughts.

For the record, I'm writing this for posterity. I want to look back on this journal and find more then just random essays about directors, films, or oddities (i.e. shooting up with blood). I want this journal to be...well...a journal. I'm documenting for myself. You're welcome to read, but you'll read the sanitized versions, scrubbed clean of offenses. Potentially offensive thoughts are tucked away, behind passwords. I’m shy; I don’t want to offend anyone.

I rarely open, rarely express my feelings. How do you tell someone you love them? How do you begin that sentence without recoiling in fear? The breath comes in uneven spurts because I’m tense, I don’t know what they’ll say. “They?” Why cloud the issue with cryptic sentences. I’m talking about a “she,” not a “they.” What will she say? Honesty is a threatening opportunity. I know that sentence isn’t grammatically correct, but it feels correct.

I'm not sure why I'm writing all this. Well, I guess I do. I'm unhappy. That’s probably one of the most honest statements I've made in a long time. I usually make jokes, but I don't feel like joking. I'm very unhappy. Miserable, doesn’t sound right. Unhappy is ambiguous enough to fit my feelings.