I'm trying to not to constantly make thinly disguised posts about 'her' - whoever 'she' may be. Along with the tedium it creates for my lovely followers and the inanity of it all, it feels demeaning that I have to have someone to crush on to feel as if my life as any special meaning. Why can't I be like other guys at school, apparently enjoying what there is to enjoy - good food, good friends, keeping busy, keeping healthy. I had a brief period over the last two months or so where I did manage to be happy, or content, with what I have. Now.. I don't like writing this. I want to write something interesting, something to make you think, laugh, form a tear, talk about.
My mind can acknowledge the truth, but it doesn't mean I believe it.
I'm confused. Its 1139, we heart it is down so no pictures - isn't a dependence on a site like that ridiculous. I'm a guy, I'm meant to be sex-crazed, emotionless, strong...what else? And sometimes I am those things, but so often I just want someone to love me, to hold, so often I am weak, weak, weak. My pride as a man makes me regret writing this, but I know I'll post it. Isn't that phrase stupid.'Pride as a man' - was I born in 1929?
I remember, a long time ago now, when I would spend all day waiting for sleep, just for that tiny chance I would dream of you. Then there were nights I did not sleep, knowing that you were sitting up with me near and far, a hundred kilometers away on the other side of the screen. I don't start conversations anymore, but she speaks so often. 'Just friends'..I think she needs that, needs a friend. I don't want to let her down, but...I can't finish this.
I cannnot express myself properly, and when I have the words, I cannot say them. I am shy and out-going, loud and quiet, friendly and shut off. Disturbed and sane. Crazily weird and pathetically normal.
It was my last day of school for the year. It was nothing worth blogging about. It rained today, bucketing down, I was so wrapped up in the TV I didn't notice for a long time.
And the rain came again, soaking me to the skin, chilling to the bone and I despaired that winter would ever end.
I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts. Running circles in my head makes me tired mentally, and my body is out of sync.
The conscious and the unconscious mind, cerebellum and frontal lobe, built for nothing more than fight or flight, hunt or be hunted, predator and prey.
I wish I would cry. Something to show for what I feel inside.
Beauty fades, shadows fall, minds decay, the light dies. My principal said we where halfway through our education at this school, but we have two years left of twelve. Everyone must live in constant ignorance, for if we ask why we are lost. Why should I finish this assignment? To pass the subject. Why do I need to pass the subject? To pass the year. Why do I need to pass the year? To get to the next one. Why do I need to get to the next year? To pass each year after that. Why? To go to uni. Why? to get a job. Why? to make money. Why? To live comfortably when I retire. Why do all that just to live comfortably when you retire? Because.
I hate becauses.
Why do what is expected of us? Does it make us happy? satisfied? fulfilled? Better to be alone and happy than surrounded by friends and miserable.
It'd be cool to be a hermit.
No one sees my darkest thoughts, for one who did would condemn me so.
I refuse to drink, for if I drink I will not be in control and I am rarely in control at the best of times. I rarely do anything purely for selfless reasons. Are you so different.
No one will change me. Not even me. I am here, I am real.
Call me thief, call me seducer, call me loser, call me freak. Call me weird, call me perverse, call me sick, call me wrong, call me right, call me free, call me dumb, call me smart, call me happy, call me sad, call me annoying, call me interesting, call me yours, call me heart breaker, call me whatever you like. But when I call you beautiful, don't you dare call me liar.