Who am I? Can someone please fill me in? I’m eighteen years old and I just want my life to go faster or end. I don’t know who I am anymore, I’m not even sure I ever knew. My friends, they don’t know the real me. My girlfriend doesn’t know the real me. No one knows. I wish I could tell my story. I should write it down, but there is so much I can’t remember, so much I chose to forget. And now I’m sitting here in my living room writing this while listening to Alexandre Desplat. At least the music fits the situation.
Being lonely is the probably the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve been lonely for some years now and yeah, it hurts. When you’re surrounded by people and all you can do is smile and laugh, but still feel like you’re broken, you know that feeling right? I think everyone feels like that at some point. I wish I had someone to talk to. Someone I would say everything to, but they’re all so busy. They have their own lives and problems and I understand that. They can support, but they can’t be there – not at all times.
And so I sit here with tears in my eyes longing for someone. An imaginary person who understands me and wonder about things in the same way I do. Someone who cares about poets and writers, someone who smells old books and smile. I wish that person would come forward and say: I see you, Fonz. I guess that’s what I’m trying to explain. I want someone to see me, the real me. Wishing is really confusing. I feel that I almost lose control of what’s real, ideas, thoughts and dreams. It’s like it’s getting worse by day. I fear that in the end I won’t be able to separate them. When I reach that point I’ll be screwed.
I’m barely alive inside, like a decomposing corpse. It’s far too crazy inside my head with the voices. I wish the whole thing could be like a concert like when your favorite band is playing and everyone is singing along. Carefully with tears in their eyes saying the same words. It seems so easy, being mentally healthy or just..happy, but it’s not. Pleasing everyone and yourself, well.. it’s hard. Not only that, but you’re the one who has to live with yourself. That’s when the wish of trading lives with someone shows up. On the other hand I don’t want to. I like my life, well.. what others see. I don’t like what’s inside. They all see some darkness, but mostly sunshine. I see the darkness, all of it because I can feel it and I know what it can do. It’s hard, God, it’s hard, but again compared to what?
Compared to all the starving children; Yeah, it’s not that hard. Compared to me wanting to end it all, yeah it’s hard man. It eats your soul inside out. I remember, wait.. no I don’t. It was a daydream or a thought or something. I was sitting on a bench in front of the sea. Just sitting there by myself looking out at the waves hitting in towards me. It was sunset and the sky was going insane. There was so much color and this good ocean smell. Suddenly this blues music starts playing and I smile. Like it’s my last day on earth. I look down at myself and get a look on my body. I’m pale and also a man in a tuxedo. It makes me smile even more. That’s when I stand up and get on the bench. The beach turns in to this very blue swimming pool and I’m getting ready to dive.
That’s where it ends.