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Alida: A 23-year-old Canadian exploring the infinite abyss that is New York City.

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recent posts

Uncle Richard, me, and James Earl Jones - Tuesday, Apr. 04, 2006
So beautiful when the boy smiles - Sunday, Apr. 02, 2006
One way or another - Sunday, Dec. 25, 2005
Way up high - Saturday, Dec. 10, 2005
Reason to start over new - Friday, Dec. 09, 2005

archives

2005: January February March April May June July August September
2004: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2003: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2002: January February March April May June July August September October November December
2001: May June July August September October November December

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Diaryland
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I wish I could believe the apologies, the excuses, the explanations, but they come too few, too late. I've listened to them for four years now, and they're rarely more than a temporary, makeshift fix-it. They never change anything in the long run. I can't trust them anymore. Maybe "this time" they are real; maybe they are more than just a "get back on my good side" solution, but I can't believe that anymore. I've seen too much to be innocent.

This time, I'm not lashing out. I'm upset, but this isn't an angry rant or a heat-of-the-moment vicious reaction to get back at or hurt anyone. This has been thought through, and has been coming for a long time. This was just the last straw. This was what finally made me realize--or acknowledge--what I already knew: that I can't stay here any longer. I can't subject myself to this any more, and I should have realized that long ago.
infinite || abyss