Techology.

I'll be open and honest, because I always am: I hate technology. I hate the 'me' it has helped shape. Most of all, I hate it for saving my life. I was never very good at building relationships with people, technology breaks the barrier that I just can't speak well. I need time to think, being face-to-face doesn't give me the opportunity to think out what I'm saying until it's too late. It's so much easier to get close to someone with a keyboard.

Which is how I got people to care when they shouldn't. It seems that every few days, someone tells me that my views are amazing, or that my honesty is a rare trait that they enjoy, or that I'm just an awesome person. And each day, I go to bed knowing I'm a liar. I always say I'm the same behind a keyboard as I am in person, but truth is; I'm not. I am to a point - I'm still a sardonic dickhead that uses sarcasm like some people use body language. But I'm nowhere near as clever. I'm nowhere near as smart. I'm nowhere near as brutal.

I'm way nicer.

And I hate it. I hate the fact that no matter what I say or do, I'm not the same. My internet personality has literally taken over the 'me' I used to be. I'm not the boy I once was.

But back to my original point. The Internet saved my life. Would I still be breathing if I hadn't found people who care? Everyone I know uses me, lies to me, talks to me when they NEED something from me. All my plans fall through, no one includes me in theirs. My real life is a joke, and honestly this is the first time I've ever fully admitted it and not told someone I was joking.

Do they (the Internet people) really care? They say they do. They sometimes act like they do. I don't care whether they do. It's nice to think someone cares. It's nicer knowing someone cares. I know people that care. I just can never bring myself to really get down to it. I put up this twisted shield of sarcasm, I dance around the question. For someone so honest, I have a really hard time telling myself the truth. I guess it's just a natural coping method - avoid my own flaws, my own problems. Keep it all bottled up. I'll keep bottling it up, I don't know if I can let it go, let alone want to. I know one day ... I'll be out of room. I won't have a bottle left. I go to bed each night, wondering if I'll make it back to my sheets.

I don't place stock in the future. It's not worth hoping for that which may never be. I can prepare for the future, but I can't predict it. Why am I going to waste my time paving a road which may never be traveled? My life will take itself, never question that.

In spring of '09, I had a blog, purely to vent and write and leave something to tell the world why I died. I wanted all the "why?" questions answered before anyone asked. Someone I hadn't talked to in pretty much a year read it, and got me help I never wanted. I can't tell whether to thank them or hate them. This was slightly over a year ago. I'm alive today. I just hope that this time around, no one thinks I'm going to do it. I'm not. I swear.

"Sometimes, I wonder why I have to live here when the only people who care are thousands of miles away. I'm certain that without the internet, I would be dead." from SixBillionSecrets