Dear Reader,

This letter is addressed to you. I'm not sure if you'll know it's you whom I'm talking about... Maybe you don't read this anymore... Or maybe if you are reading this... You just won't or don't know it's about you... But then you would know it's you I'm talking about if you feel like I am talking about you... Cause then that would mean you do agree with what I'm about to say... I don't know if I want you to know actually... But I need to let it out don't I? Look at me being a coward... Writing it here instead of talking to you about it... I am a coward, aren't I? I'm just blabbing on, I should just get this over and done with now...

I don't think you care as much for me anymore. I think the only reason why we've stayed as friends is because you're bounded to me because of time. You are my friend because of time. It was time in the first place that made us friends. Now it's time that seems to be forcing us to stay together and yet part. Does that make any sense to you? I hope it does, because I don't know how else to explain it. Perhaps I am being paranoid... But perhaps I am being paranoid for a very good reason that you and I don't "click" anymore. Time has set a sort of barrier between us. A barrier I think which neither of us would like to acknowledge, but it's there... Perhaps it's there because I am jealous of your friendship with him. You and he have grown so close... He is perhaps your real best friend... Like I've said time... time is what has bound our friendship together. You talk to him more than you do with me. That's what I think. Perhaps it's not true, but it makes perfect sense.

We don't talk about anything anymore. Have you noticed that? Have you realized that? I've just did. You and I, we just don't talk about anything. It doesn't seem natural anymore either. If we do... You don't say much, perhaps it is because we are in class and you choose to pay attention so you won't get in trouble, but then, it is the same when we're out of the class. Yet again what is there to talk about? I wonder perhaps it is my fault. Perhaps it is because I don't tell you anything. Have I hurt you by doing that? I'm sorry... But then perhaps it's not that. Perhaps it's something else and that would be... I don't know. We don't mean anything we say anymore, do we? I wonder if you've figured out that I am talking to you yet...

I've always said that people need to understand that friendships fade away. Ours is in most definite fading isn't it? It must seem so random that I am feeling this way, but perhaps I should've felt this and realized this some time ago. Especially when you've lied to me... But perhaps that was for the best, when even the lie had made me cry. Imagine what the truth would've done, but then you cried as well because I did, or perhaps you were thinking what my reaction would've been if you had told me the truth. I probably would've cried worst... Did you know you're the one who I mostly cry about? I think it's because I actually do care... But then after crying for you the other time... I don't think I could cry for you anymore, unless you've found something else I could cry about... You never said sorry about lying to me. Did you know that? I've never realized it till now again... But I guess I brushed off the lying because... I guess because that was the past and the worst was over now... Or was it really? I don't know but I guess it was because I have forgiven you for lying to me... But then I still recall you lying to me. You taught me that one could not forgive, if one could not forget. I haven't forgotten... I guess I must have not forgiven... Not that it really does bother me that you've lied... But then it shows how much you trust me now doesn't it?

I don't think you trust me anymore really. Well perhaps you don't trust me fully really. I wonder why though, perhaps you didn't want me to get mad at you or perhaps we weren't really that close in the first place. Or perhaps I must've done you wrong some time ago. You don't tell me anything anymore... So I guess this would explain why. I wonder what has happened to us. We both live lives that the other doesn't know.

You know what I would really like to know?

How far would you have gone for me really? I doubt you'd sacrifice what you have for me. No, not when you have so many people that care for you. Perhaps one or two that loves you more than I do. Yes, I've told you this before... I do love you. You know that don't you? I must've said it a hundred times... I've let those words pour out of my mouth like water. It turned into habit after awhile... I wonder how many times I've actually mean it. I think I've stopped saying those words actually... The same as you, probably because at some point... We probably realized that there's no reason to... Or perhaps it means nothing now days... Or perhaps... Neither of us means it anymore. Yet just because we don't say it, doesn't mean we don't, now does it? I think you'd go further for a lot of other people before you would go as far for me. I think I am pretty sure you would. It doesn't matter what I've done for you... That would make me selfish to ask you to do the same now wouldn't it? I wouldn't have mind though... I just... Wanted to feel like you would though, but like I've said. I doubt you would.

You know how far I'd go for you now don't you? You've seen how far I've gone for you. Why are you so special to me I wonder. We've never made sense ever. You knew that didn't you? Perhaps you didn't... I'd forget myself for you. I have forgotten myself for you... Only because I care. Only because I've found, it's not me that you needed, but someone else... At times anyway. You're one of the only people I would like to care about. One of the only people I would cry for and one of the only people I hope I would not end up forgetting.

I'm not very loyal at times. I think you know that... You just don't think about it. Well I hope you don't. Did you know you've taught me a lot of things? You've taught me things that I needed to face not tomorrow... But the hours that lead me to tomorrow. I don't know if I'd change if we don't talk to each other anymore. Perhaps I already have and this is why our friendship is fading away.

I don't know what I want to happen in the end. Friendships fade away don't they...? I should learn to accept... But what if I care too much for it to happen?

I wonder if you know I'm talking about you yet... I think you have. I'm sorry for being a coward. I just don't really want to know the truth... That's all. I could say more... but I think I've said too much... just one more thing though...

I love you.

Yours sincerely,
Me.

Dear Reader,

I've realized something I haven't broken down.

When someone loves you, you would assume they would be there for you, correct? They might not always be there but they would... Just be there, wouldn't they? It's what should follow, it's what would make sense because being there is the evidence of caring, of loving. Yet, what about those who care and aren't there? That's usually the case of when you are unaware of one's emotions, but what if you are? What if you knew one loves you... But they just, not can't but won't, refuses to be there for you. What would that mean? That what they said were only mere ordinary words and they never did care... Or perhaps there's some sort of different sense that's working its way in their bloodstream.

How would that work though? To care for someone and torture oneself by showing no affection for them. What am I saying... I practice the sort and why... I don't know. I think it's because I can. It is simply because I can and by doing so... It's much easier. So much easier not love someone, so much easier to pretend one cannot love, so much easier to deny oneself because that is when one is in control. In control of one's very senses and sensation and emotions. But that's truly the more difficult part.

I don't know what I want to say really. I probably made that up.

Yours Truly,

Nayt

It's not healthy. I've been writing too much these days. I wonder why. Perhaps it is because I am struggling to keep her within me or perhaps she is simply already me. Oh, I'm not quiet sure. I confuse myself at times. My head hurts now, it feels as if there's a whirring of wings in my head... I've begin to wonder... Of nothing now days. My head is heavy and tired. I'm not hurting... No I'm not in pain but am only afraid. Yes. I am afraid of good things that are or sound sincere. They're not meant to happen that's why. Not to me at least. I like the feeling though... I do, because at that moment I forget to be afraid. I forget of what if and what not. I let myself be happy and amazingly the feeling lasts. You do know how to make the feeling last don't you? You go to sleep. Yes, you go to sleep and the memory with the feeling is then locked away, stored in quietest part of the mind, which by will, shall be loud only if you choose it to be. When you wake, everything is new, the feeling is new, the scent is different, the day is unique... The happiness has been stored away instead of being "sucked" up by some other dreadful situation or by the disappointment of trying to top that emotion. One needs to learn and know when one is content. I knew I was, and now I can admit that at one point of my life, I was fully content.

It's better when things aren't explain, despite one's curiosity to the reason why... Why then, why now, why me. Bloody hell... I think I'm happy. Silly me. It's amazing what a few words can do... What a memory can do... I think I shan't explain it to you...

I think I shall go to sleep now...

Yours Truly,

Nayt

Dear Reader,

People know I cry. Some don't acknowledge the fact that I do, but yes, they know I do. I've always thought it doesn't matter if one knows, just as long as they never see for themselves that you do. There is a fine line between an idea and an image, isn't there? I cry when no one's around... And I've been caught once or twice and they all did the same. They held me. One tried to "shh" me as if afraid the world might hear me, but that was true... The world was just down stairs at that point and I thank them from shielding the world of me. What difference if the world knew though? Would much have changed? Probably not... Yet again, it could have. So as I recall... I've only been held twice when vulnerable by two people. One whom I hardly know but I feel I will; shall challenge in the future - actually, perhaps it was I who held him? So he might not count. The other... Or perhaps the only one - someone I think I care about. There's a sense of loyalty I have for them... Must mean something at least.

I've somehow ended up with this conclusion... Or this idea... That no one wants me around. I sound rather foolish, don't I? I know I do... I don't know why I asked in the first place. Well because of that conclusion or idea, it explained to me of my new obsession, which is to leave no proof of my existence. Obviously that's not working well with these letters and the pictures taken, but I think one day I will be forgotten. Or simply not thought of. I know I've somehow affected the people around me either positively or negatively, but it doesn't make the difference really, if it wasn't me, I would suspect it to be someone else. So anyway... The thought was if no one wants me around, why leave a memory of me behind? So, so far I've avoided pictures for one thing... It's beginning to sound ridiculous by the second. Let me explain it simply. No one likes me, therefore no one wants me around, so I try not to be part of their memory, because one day anyway, I just won't matter to them anymore. Well I don't really matter now. No, I am not asking for sympathy, but merely putting across a fact that everyone else ignores.

I only wanted a friend. Just a friend, but somehow I've grown scared to get close to people. Even with the ones I was close to... There's a barrier now. We don't talk about it, but there is one, the friendship has lost its flare I suppose, it just feels a bit mechanical now days. So anyway, I only wanted a friend, but I've grown scared in getting a friend. I'm afraid that they won't like me, that they might find me annoying and they would grow to hate me one day. I'm very silly at times, I'm suppose to not mind if one hates me, but I guess it's the thought of if I've done no wrong to them and they have started to despise me... Then clearly there must be something wrong with me isn't there? Perhaps there really is something wrong with me... I've always felt like no one could stand having me around for a certain period of time... When one knows me... One would know that I am contradicting myself somehow. I always am.

Yes... No one really likes me as "me." I've figured this out sometime ago. Don't tell me this isn't true... It is true, I know. It's always been true... Dear God... I think I've grown to hate myself... But I don't blame me really... Only because I want nothing to do with myself... Like them. They want nothing to do with me... Like my friends too... They want nothing to do with me.

Yours Truly,

Nayt

Dear Reader,

I feel as if my path has lead me to the cross roads where I first started. I am beginning to feel empty again and this serves as a realization, a reminder of why I hide myself from the world. I feel so vulnerable and foolish at the same time. I don't understand what is happening to me. Have I returned to my childish state, Where the little girl needs to be sheltered and protected from the harsh realities of the world? It feels as if only a part of me has grown up and so, I've somehow stored that part away and let the part I hardly know out. So far that part is amusing but I can feel she's prone to pain. It's as if she knows nothing of the proper behavior one should have around company. Especially around those with the best information of others. I feel she knows nothing. I know somewhere in the back of her mind, she can hear me but she drowns my voice with cheers and laughter. I've asked her, what are you doing? But I did not ask her to stop only because I knew she would not listen. In a way it was amusing to watch her, she's grown wilder by the second. I have no key to lock her in. Someone though had the key of letting her out. I don't think that someone will like her out. She's too much to handle that's why. Besides someone didn't like her anyway. She knows. I know. We both agree.

Everyone has a different kind of key when it comes to letting a personality out. Some just keep a closet of personalities and change them like one would change their under garment. Just a mere switch. Such and such profound personalities are then bought out or stuffed back in, due to atmosphere. Environment really e.g. Who's there and who's not, who you're talking to, etc. Yet there are others, such as myself, who rather like to be organized. We keep room cells. Room cells with only a little hole drilled in for light. Just so that each personality can't escape. See I've been kind and I've only put one padlock on each door. So it would be easy for them to come out when the door is unlocked. It's awfully dreadful in here though. You could always here my heart singing a different tune. It's cold yet warm and dark yet light in here. It's very unusual. Well, anyways, the thing is I've never carried any keys with me, so I wonder how to these "things" come out and play. Strange, I feel scared to tell you the rest of the story. But you must know now, don't you? You've let curiosity out of it's play pen to come poke at me.

I shall tell you the rest. So I wondered. I've knocked on the padlocks to see if they would happen to just fall off or anything of the sort. Every padlock seemed to be shiny and new with each characteristic written on the front of the padlock e Happy, annoying, etc. And every padlock is sharp with thorns, needles, pin pricks and all sort of things, so one needs to be careful in handling them. Now when some of them do come out, they all gather in this little room. A sort of vessel that's designed to fly up a shoot and explode into the very core of the soul so that these personalities could take control. Sometimes though, some of them like rage (naughty rage) for example won't wait for the vessel and would run up the shoot, they grow on the way at times. Some of them get lost sometimes through the veins but I manage to collect them back again and place them in their cells.

Where was I?

Oh yes... Well these locks seem to open up by themselves, (I keep away from the one labeled insanity... It frightens me) but of course that would rather be ridiculous. So I went out of that room full of the cells up the shoot... And I sat next to curiosity who sat next to secrecy and we all watched. Just waiting for something to happen. Then there it was. The key came and tapped on the heart of the soul three times and poof, a combination of characteristic and you've got yourself a personality.

My I am rather enjoying telling this story, I think I shall continue it... The next day. Till then you can wonder what made the key came because that is what I shall tell you next. I am dreadfully tired now..

Yours Truly,

Nayt

Dear Reader,

I have tried to write my thoughts down or somehow let it out, but each word written or spoken sounds more incompetent by the next. I despise the fact that we are all the same when it comes to problems, either ours or ones we self involve in. The fact that it would be the same sort of situation one goes through and yet each situation is unique; must be unique in its own way. Unique only because one has a history that molds one, a past that always comes back to haunt one, a story that one has yet to finish. A past that will alter and could disfigured the situation by the second. And in the end if the situation is either solved or put to rest - no one is ever fully content with the solution. We are designed to be unique aren't we? Designed to use the solution to our advantage in the end as either information for gossip or information to hurt. I use mine as a sick pleasure in hurting others. Only so that I won't get hurt in the end. Only because I've been; I am treated that way by others.

Somehow you'll always get hurt by those you care or not. It's that one second of pain from maybe a joke, a comment or an opinion. It doesn't matter how small that pain is, what matters is, it's done some damage to the heart and soul. A scar never fully heals, it's not true, especially when you can open that wound up again. No one really knows why you bleed though, and most of the time they see the blood... Just not the wounds.

Yours Truly,

Me