Dear Nemo,

I know I've said I'd never keep a diary or that a blog isn't my kind of thing and that I would eventually neglect it, but sometimes I just feel the need to talk to someone, although I don't even know if there's really someone  actually listening, or in this case reading, or if someone cares about what I write or say. 

Hmmm... Nemo... I guess everyone has a Nemo at a point in life, when they just need a nobody, a person that doesn't exist, to talk to or something.

These past two and a half year I've felt good. I was happy with who I was and what was happening, although that wasn't extremely exciting, it was just good.
But lately I've been starting to feel like I felt more than three years ago, well I guess this is the same feeling. It's like everybody around me is better, it doesn't matter in what way, and I need to measure up to them, which I most definitely can't. Sometimes it's a bit like jealousy: then I feel jealous because those people are the way they are and I don't have one of their characteristics or their way of behaving, of which I think might sometimes be better than mine.
I don't like this feeling. It's not how I want to feel, how I used to feel.
It's just so weird. It just came out of nowhere. The year started okay, good, but as it progressed the feeling started haunting me and lately I can feel its presence almost all the time. When it's not 'attacking' me, if you know what I mean, I can still feel it lingering near, waiting for a time to 'attack'.
There's not much I can do, I guess... nothing but hoping it'll go away soon. I should just try to make the best of it and try to ignore the feeling, try to live like it isn't there and try to live like myself.

I don't know if I'll publish this... What do you think, Nemo, should I go for it? Haha, I shouldn't be asking you this, because you're no one. This is a letter to no one, to Nemo.

You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm just something weird and the whole world around me, everything and everybody included, are part of my fantasy. Man, what a fantasy I would have if I made the whole world around me up.
But that probably isn't true. If it were, I'd probably be able to do anything (im)possible or whatsoever, but I can't.
There's a bigger chance that there's a puppeteer somewhere, or a playwright, who decides what we're doing. That we're just mechanisms in his big machine he called 'Earth'.

Nemo, I think I'll just publish it, there's not really much that can happen if I do, right?

Well, I think I'll write you another time. You'll know when I do.

Love,
Someone who's a little confused.