Introspection

I don't blog often do I?

The occasional post, the rare rant, I almost never come here unless it's to pour out emotions through words, screaming soundlessly into the world wide internet cause I know screaming in a noisy place means less people can hear you.

Today it's no different; I come to once again speak my mind without hope of being listened to.

3 to 4 weeks ago I had set upon a strange new path in my life. I've changed, outwardly, drastically. I've jumped across rivers I thought were too wide, saw the world with colors I had only had suspected to exist. To me, I felt these changes were helping my life. I still do.

But there are some of my brothers who think otherwise. They view my change as unhealthy, distasteful. They see me as abandoning them and running off to chase bad things and corruptive dreams.

Their Hypocrisy, I will condemn later.

Who I see as the destructive spark to all of this is none other than the one I had once referred to as my clone; who I still, unfortunately regard as a clone. But I don't think anyone can understand the reasons for her being the flames of destruction, so I had best explain; I was the spark.

And it was a dumb thing to do anyway.

It was on a typical night, a night like any other, that I had confessed my feelings to her. I didn't see it coming to be honest; I had quite ironically turned her down only so many months ago, at night as well. I figured I'd be able to just remain friends with her, keep the feelings to simply a friendly level.

But let's face it, things never worked out the way we want. I found myself growing increasingly attached to her, and for a while, I wondered if fate had finally thrown me the curve ball; that true love was simply sitting right in front of me most nights on the staircase. So I figured, I should confirm it; don't leave things to doubt, sort it all out as soon as I could, before I chose to abandon my old ideal of love.
And well, like everything that was in my ideal, the attempt was a disastrous fuck up.

To cut things short, on that night on that staircase I confessed, and everything went to shit right afterwards. I had assumed that she would treat me the same way I treated her so long ago; simply shrug it off, ease life back into normalcy. But being the idiot I was, I forgot; she was still different in some ways.

She mistook me coming to find them in the snookerium as stalking, my usual text messaging as stalking, fuck it everything I did to her was stalking. Despite the fact that everything I did was what I usually did with them, find where they were at night, just crash in and chill with them, texting about usual nothings, somehow that time, she just chose to assume it was all stalking.

And upon this assumption, she acted. She told people her view of things. She left me confused as to why she doesn't just act like everything's normal again, like I did before. She told some of my brothers of the new friends I had made, the stories twisted to suit her visions of paranoia. Finally her best friend, seeing her in such a destructive mood, misinterpreted her words and told me that she was planning something drastic (these girls seem to do that often.) So what could I do? confront her? She would not even speak to me. So I did what I thought was probably the best course of action at the time.

Call in a wingman.

Get him to put out the fires, clear all delusions and solve the massive fuck up brought about by my confession and her paranoia, since she wouldn't hear it from her best friend, and certainly wouldn't hear it from me. And so, she branded her Bf a traitor, and after acknowledging (I hope) that I was doing no stalking whatsoever, she cut me out of her life.

And I cut her out of mine.

Seeing such a paranoid streak destroyed whatever trust I had for her. Seeing how she would destroy all around her in some self induced sense of distrust and fear, regardless of whoever they were, it disgusted me. I could never bring myself to trust one so volatile in friendships.

I worry if I am the same. This is the whole reason I'm doing this introspection; a recount of events so I may see clearly the truth to events. The only hope I hold of course, is that it'll work.

Tiredness creeps from the corner of my mind. Perhaps I'll finish writing what's left of the introspection later, perhaps never. But I think I'll stop now.