The Start in My Diary

I suppose I want to be brutally honest. I need a place where I can be. Just to spew things, let go, be me, to the most monstrous purifying level that is humanly possible.
I’m in bed, it is nearly 2pm. Curtains drawn, the light of my laptop blocking out the rest of my room from vision. It is just me and my ugly truths.
Do I really want this? To nearly victimize the real people in my life? Let them play a role within the story of my life, the day-to-day dragging around of words, actions, situations, them being chained as characters, stuck in my perception forever?
The urge to free myself is too strong, the desire for complete honesty has always chased me. It gives the people around me chills, them who do not seek complete purity but seek to be a healthy, balanced personality. In truth I envy them, because I would like to follow the generally accepted rules of social interaction. However I lose myself. I lose myself to endless passion, lethargy, loneliness. I swim around in the thick mud of the swamp that is my life; when I get too passionate it drags me down, yet the fear of being dragged down makes me swim more, causing me to drown even faster. I lose.
The people around me reach a certain point, of inexplicable distance. I am not likeable. I am too harsh? Too open, too forward and not measured enough. I am NAIVE. A word that I love dearly and a skill I want to master. But has one ever uttered the adoration for someone, saying: “She really mastered the skill of naivity?”
I am behind in my age. Haven’t grasped onto being me, by myself, and truly seeing everyone else as an “outsider” in comparison to me as a person. I do not do “me and myself against the world”. I do not self-preserve, I do passion, deep love, adoration. I do also do mistrust. I don’t want to get hurt. I make endless mistakes, probably easy ones, and have to hear “but you can’t..!” over and over again.
I realize this all sounds vague. I suppose it’ll do, some sort of general explication for the rest of my entries.