For once, I can say "No one understands" without feeling like it's teenage angst. I am right this time.

I am angry and hostile, I can feel it in my stomach. I don't control this; it's something adrenaline-powered, one of those instances where the cure involves running and/or smashing things until I collapse.

I don't talk to you. I don't talk to any of you. Oh sure, I say things, but what do they mean? Do you feel any meaning behind them at all? There's nothing. The last real conversation I had was with Joe through a night of dullness and solitude; it was for comfort, for company. I actually felt like a person talking to a person. But recently? There has been no conversation of this sort. At Roger's I watched as others DID talk, and wished I could join in, but I interjected seldomly for I was dumbfounded at my revelations. I had not realized I was so far gone inside myself.

And I tried to come out with it, to reveal this to you, but what does it get me? It's obvious that I have not said what I meant to say. That the message is still not what it is supposed to be. When will I talk? When will this end?

I could go on and on, but what will that do? I'm not going to try to explain or prove anything to you. I'm not going to entertain you with my theories or delight you with my stories. I'll tell you one thing that I've said since that conversation with Joe, that I meant:

It's pointless.

i used to understand. but something happened. i'm sorry you feel the way you do, but in all honesty i feel the same. that my words are empty, especially to you. soemthing's not right. i apologize if this comment merely angers you more.