www.whyville.net May 10, 2009 Weekly Issue

Times Writer

I Miss You

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Where has the time gone? How much sand have we lost? For some reason, I can't wrap my head around the obvious fact that time passes so quickly. I don't know why, but I keep trying to snatch up the past and go back. I try to imagine what it would be like to just be around you again, but your face fades into the back of my mind. I'm alone.

I've spent so many nights thinking about you and everyone else who has affected me. I wish I could turn back the clock to the happy, sunny days where everything was just dandy. I only feel the smooth wood of my desk on my face as I turn down in disdain. I can't do anything right anymore.

And how many opportunities have slipped through my fingers? I must have forgotten how much I actually wanted - no, needed - you. I lack the ability to not care what anybody thinks, and it's kept me at an arm length from the rest of the world . . . including you. I don't think any amount of "perfection" could hide the fact that I'm just trying too hard. Would you see me differently if I had just been myself all these years? If I could let everything go . . . what would happen?

So maybe I'm just being too analytical (as usual). I'm thinking about how every action and word could be wrong. Is it wrong to be as different as I am? Why do so many people want me to change? Does anybody care how I feel? I'd love to say it doesn't matter, but it does. More than anything, I'd love someone to understand. Or at least try to, anyway.

I feel myself drifting farther and farther away with each passing day. I have never known what it was like to truly be happy and accepted. No normality is sustained in my life. I feel like an alien. So many have turned away from me in confusion or just the lack of the will to care. They don't appreciate the fact that I care as much as I do. I know by now that I won't exactly get any gift baskets for being "nice," but I still try to do everything I can to be a good girl. I don't have to think twice about helping someone else.

And that's why I'm so frustrated.

Why doesn't anybody care that I care? Why am I always disregarded when it comes to someone to talk or turn to? Why am I always so far beyond plan B?

Once again, I'd love to say it doesn't matter, but it does. Everything I miss or lack means so much to me. I miss common sense. I miss the way things used to be. I miss everybody who cared. I miss you.


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