It's 11:35pm. I haven't written in a while, my friend. I feel as if I've missed you. Like listening to a faded whisper. The ocean divides us, and yet I can hear your soft voice. I've been in reality more, and less in my own head. I will admit, it has made me question what I am. Where I lie, whether it be in this solitude and daydream, or is it with the connections I've made? I know that when I am with others, no matter how much fun and life they bring me, I cannot fully let them see me. I can show them the face I've built. The mask that I've woven through years of analysis. Who is Brian? Who is the person I see in the mirror? For the longest time I've seen a stranger. I've been speaking to a friend recently, I've asked them who they are, but they meet me with questions about themselves. They themselves know not who they are. I empathize greatly. I feel for them, I feel that they deserve to learn about what they want, who they wish to be. The world is so much bigger than what they've thrown themselves in. Life is experienced so intensely, it's vastness not limited to emotion. I wish all my friends get to live, at least for the time they have left. For me though, I feel as if I am an alien amongst man, a misaligned speck. I am wrong, and I will never be corrected. It is my disease, my curse.
