"June 14, 2006

He says I am a jealous mess.  I guess I am jealous - territorial?  But I really don't think I am a jealous mess.  I think I'm a mess, yes.  But I was hurt , so sharply, that I don't know if I can recover from it.  I think it will be one of those things that stick with me for all of my life.  She and him have inflicted this torture into my heart forever.  If I will ever get over this I don't see how I will be able to get through my parents' death, or anything else that is actually worth fighting for.  I like things but as only places and ideals and visions.  Being in small town New York is wonderful but even as I am psychically here, during actual time, I still know it isn't real and none of it is as wonderful as I see it.  I guess the cynicism I maintain has started to push any perception of real beauty to the middle of my mind.  I don't see how anything real can stay consistently beautiful.  I am only beautiful when I am alone and cannot see myself.  Nature and sky are always beautiful but your voice always interrupts it, whether you are there or not.  It's a piercing, sharp voice."