What This Means

I have tried to tell my story in the past, but for whatever reason it goes unfinished -- unexplained. I get half way through a blog, half way through a story, half way through something I want people to know and I can't finish it.

My story is scattered, my ideas rattled and unfocused, but I want this. I WANT to have something... here.

I have stopped telling people my story as in the last three months, it seems to have ended. But I watch people move on, and new ideas sprout, and I want to tell them the truth... how the world works, how everything is, but I can't. I'm trapped, trapped by all that I was. I can't even ignore it.

I can't connect with the people I used to. I don't see the point in fighting for what I know anymore simply because what we were fighting for is gone. So I let them move on... let them go onto new dreams. But not me. 

This is my sentence. To remember. To be cursed with the knowledge.

To be alone.

If I gave you this link, I gave it to you in the hopes you would read it... and understand. Understand everything that I was, that I used to have, that I could offer. If you are closed in your mind, or if you refuse to believe no matter what I say... then please, stop, tell me you won't try, and leave it there. Do not insult or ridicule because if I gave this to you, it was out of trust.

If you found it, then feel free to read and understand. But do not try to find me, do not try to follow me with questions, and do not ask for my help. Those days are gone.

I am human... I am human now.

But I am not like you.