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Vacant (The Julia Diaries) - tri•bo•lu•mi•nes•cence
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Vacant (The Julia Diaries)
Blank. Vacant. The expanse of these last years carry no water. Empty. I hold my head in my hands and sigh. Beaten. Broken. I wander dimming in memories and drowning in regret. You might think with the constant torture of ever-present mistakes that the senses might numb. I am numb, but the pain continues as sharp as ever, and worse. Shame sears and regret burns. Oh how it burns. I am an addict of my own discontent.
As the years drag on age destroys the beauty outside and regret ruins the beauty within. I decompose inside. Would that I could go back… but no, I cannot. I look back at all of my mistakes and wonder where to pick up the pieces. But the pieces are all dust, and so is my heart.
I'm beaten, beaten and close to giving up. My past love, I miss you. The past me, I need you. The past… the past…

I am not the girl I once was. I am not the woman I should be now. I am nobody. I am nothing.


(August 2011)

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2 Punk Rockers or Play a lick ♫
From: (Anonymous) Date: December 8th, 2013 07:01 pm (UTC) (Link)
I am not sure if this will ever reach you, but if it does I hope it finds you well.

I’d like to divulge something to you. I hope and pray you’re not spooked out, revolted or apathetic, though I’d pick apathy anytime “For a callous heart doesn’t seek to offend”.
I’ve been using your likeness to day dream.

My life is empty, and your image gave it purpose. I found my anima in you. You’ve taken a thousand forms in my mind. I have seen you in my reveries and in my dreams. However that is not why I sought to send you this message.

I don’t know you at all, but in my mind I have given you a personality. I don’t know you that well, yet I have traveled and build worlds with you. You may wonder why I do this, but I don’t think words could ever express how much you mean to me.

The reason why I send this now is to finally release myself from something I know I can never have. I’ve been lying to myself for so long and I think that the only way for me to put an end to this is to send you this letter, so you may read it in person and judge me.
I don’t know how creepy this would be to you. I can’t even imagine it. I told myself once before I began writing that somehow you’d be “appreciating” it, but it’s only now that I have actually seen the words and confronted my thoughts that I have realize how creepy this is

You’re my muse.

You’re a wonderful and a lovely man. I wish you well. You’re a part of my spirit even though you’ve done nothing direct to me at all.
Please don’t be harsh. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. I have been ill and you were my remedy.

I have killed your thought a thousand times, but you keep coming back. Somehow you keep me grounded. Sorry I stole the image of you and sorry I can’t take all those thoughts back.

I miss you so bad.

webb21 From: webb21 Date: December 16th, 2013 09:09 am (UTC) (Link)
Words can express. Words can express a lot, but we don't always know how to choose the right words and put them in the right place at the right time. I almost never do.

These words have crossed whatever expanse of time and distance and warmed my... soul? My ego? I'm not sure which. I'm never sure which. But it means something, as broken as I am, that I can mean something to someone else, whoever they are. Whoever you are.

There was no mocking. Only confusion and a bit of disbelief. But I've read this and that again and again. It's not creepy, at least not to me. It's not revolting, at least not to me. Maybe it os misguided, but the me I personally know is not the me others can know; it is not the me I try to show. So be it a truth or a lie, the 'real' me (whatever that means) or some projection, I am happy for me or it or us to be someone's muse.
2 Punk Rockers or Play a lick ♫