Daily target: 308 words. Written: 622.
This letter is not intended for anyone. If it so happens that you read it, it means that it came out sincere and transparent enough to show.
Have you been listening to me - how much attention do I need?
I answered, it seems, simply - I need a hell of a lot of attention. And at the same time I don't know if really.
…And it's true - I don't know how much attention I need because I don't know the measure of it.
But I know it is needed.
I have no idea whether this is good or bad.
I like attention. I am like that. I love it when my letters are read. When they are answered. I love that you notice what I share. And when he comments.
I just ask myself: is it ok that i need attention that some people can't give? Is it okay to ask for more of it than they manage to share?
Let's say: I wrote to you two or three days ago. A lot. And I ended with a request - write an answer. Write a letter. write
I begged, as if a dying man were begging Mr. Death for a second chance. (Two out of three!)
And I don't know why I did it - after all, four days and a little over a month ago, I didn't ask for it at all. And now please.
Is this just such a period? Similar to Jurassic, Triassic and others?
A time when I feel heavy and weak and need support more than usual? Someone who would surprise, amuse, open up, be right, love and comfort?
Although it is possible that such periods are not new to me. If you can call them that. I remember asking for answers in the past. A day, two... I didn't get them.
Enough…
…I used to get angry.
I was furious.
More because of my own weakness and condescension than because of other people.
I was backing away.
"If you can't punch a hole in the wall, back off. And try later. Maybe there's something holding you back that you can't change.” – My strategy that I use not only in video games, but also in relationships. Or at least I used to.
After a while it got better again and I lived happily.
I don't know how long.
After all, it is so difficult to notice that you are living independently when the line between power and control is so thin. When you don't know what is right and what is wrong.
For example, should I show you this email? Should I send it?
After all, I wrote a letter about love. And you are not his yet.
After all, I have written messages. And you didn't answer them.
After all, I say that I love*. And you not.
(*That's not exactly what I mean here. But you probably get the idea.)
And you know… I can't blame you. And I can't blame myself.
If you don't want to communicate, let it be.
If you don't want to answer, let it be.
I'll wait.
until you hear
And if you don't hear it, I'm not going to repeat it. Because I already repeated too much.
* * *
I have a fear of falling in love with a girl more than she falls in love with me.
This is how almost all of my relationships have ended. Even in spite of the fact that I have always, except once, left the girls first. Yes, I left first, but that doesn't mean anything when I leave seeing that my feelings are not reciprocated.
I don't know why I didn't leave Miletus. I guess you're wondering, but I don't know.
She wasn't the type to reciprocate my feelings as much as I wanted them to. However, I stayed with her longer than I expected. Much longer. And it was nice.
* * *
And now I think - or maybe I want too much from people?
Maybe here I am the one who demands, robs by force, extorts and does not let me live in peace?
Maybe I'm the demanding toddler that I don't want to interact with at all?
* * *
I do not know. Sometimes I have such periods.
When you want attention.
I want to be together.
You want everything.
When I become what I've always been afraid to be.
* * *
I probably should too.
Disappear.
Think.
Regain strength.
Like you.
* * *
I will try.
I will try your way. Maybe it's really better to get away from your beloved friends, girlfriends, family members and others for a while.
And return after regaining strength.
After getting stronger.
After gaining strength.
After regaining composure. And the real self.
Or not.
* * *
I don't know if you will receive this letter. Maybe you'll get it one day when I'm gone. You might not get it. After all, I wrote it for myself.
* * *
What a mess in my little head.
i want to love But I don't want to love too much.
I want to demand attention. But I don't want to demand too much of it.
I want both. Like a little child.
But it's time to tell him enough. Finger poked again. Prepare steaming and spicy birch porridge. Hmmm! A delicacy!
confused,
Daniel