Contemplation leads to complication. Stay busy.

Hey. It's been a while. What's up? Here's what I'm thinking about right now.
I'm hanging on by a thread. On everything. I must be incredibly lucky. My classmates and teachers think I'm smart, right? But I'm...not. I'm just not. I'm just...really, really lucky; and one of these days they're all going to see right through me and realize I'm just like them. My friends seem to think I'm likeable, I think. Well, I'm not. And one of these days they're all going to realize that I'm a little bastard. My girlfriend seems to actually like me, but I can't see why; and one day she's going realize that I'm insecure and needy and a total dick.
It's like I'm just waiting for things to fall apart when I should be refurbishing. So that's what I have to do: refurbish. I need to start being smart. I need to start being likeable. I need to start being a good person.
And I can start that by not thinking of myself as what I am, but what I can be. If I can do that much, then I can be that person.

It's so easy to type that. I wonder if I can actually do it...





Yeah. I can.

I don't believe in fine lines. I don't believe in limits. There is no straw that breaks a camel's back. Everything is gradual. That said, there is a balance that must be maintained. One between recognizing flaws in oneself and hating oneself, between respecting oneself and worshiping oneself, maintaining a unique identity and being pretentious, between friendship and adoration.
Yes, we must love ourselves, but we are not immune to criticism. "It's okay to be different!" We're told as children, and then we grow up trying too hard to be. If I were to believe only myself, I would be the ultimate narcissist. If I were to listen to only myself, I would be the ultimate narcissist.
In the spring of 10th grade, I received my reality check. I realized that I wasn't a genius. I realized that I wasn't some god sent down among the mortals to show the world how lacking in wisdom and profundity it is. We're all works in progress, and to think that we have reached our potential is intellectual arrogance and pretension.
So I try not to brag about being different. I try not to complain about problems that I know everyone else has.
Titles are worthless unless they are earned.

Been a while. Life is still life. But I'm loving life.

Sometimes I brag about my intelligence like it was something I earned. I'm only a teenager; I'm still ignorant. Everyone's born ignorant. Stupidity is a silly thing to hate. It's like cognitive racism.

I've been lazy since school started.

Sometimes I ignore my problems. Sometimes I forget them. But they always weasel into parts of my life I don't want them in. But that's my fault, hmm?

Why are mentally healthy and well-adjusted people portrayed as squares and conformists? The protagonist is so often an insecure child while the antagonists are confident and self-assured. Why? Self-pity is narcissism disguised as depth.

School's looking to be tough. But this year is looking to be a good one.

I have to write a reflective essay but because of this damn blog I feel like everything I think of is a just a rehash of a post I've made! So I'll probably just steal a post and turn it into an essay.

Doo doo doo doo do doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo do do dooo do do dooo.

I don't want anyone to think that I'm a spiteful person. That's something I have to work on. I'm afraid I come off as a total ass sometimes.

I can't fool myself. I try to stop caring but I just come off as mean. There's nothing righteous in catharsis or obsession.

I know there's nothing profound in me and I hope no one thinks that there is. I do my best to avoid pretension, but I find my way into more often than I'd like to. But oh well. Introspection can only do so much healing. I need to start changing. I need to start growing. It's easy to say those things right now...

The failures of the world don't give inspirational speeches. The failures of the world aren't quoted.

When I think about the things I don't like in people, I don't see any of those things in people I know.

I sabotage myself by wearing my heart on my sleeve. I'm simply too immature right now.

Self-pity is narcissism disguised as depth. Introspection is loneliness disguised as profundity. Cynicism is fear disguised as wisdom. I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not. The novelty of sadness is short lived. People want to be around happy people. I think people see me and think that there's something more to me, something deeper. There's not. Maybe I don't play up the mysterious thing enough. I don't know...

Alright. That's it. I feel like everything that I had going for me disappeared the week my friend left. Ever since then I've been a mess. It's like I lost all my friends, not just one. I know that's my fault, but I won't be missed. I know how this goes. I'm giving it one more chance. One more. If not, then fuck it.

I know all my flaws. Well, most of them. Don't bother insulting me.

I've come to realize that there exists a many ways of getting over something, two of which I've been thinking about: one healthy and one dangerous.
To truly overcome a problem we must solve it. For example, I often project the power to make me happy onto other people. To healthily get over this I have to give myself that power.
Then there's the unhealthy way. An example would be if I were to stop projecting that power onto an unwilling source and onto a willing one. The inherent problem lies in that people will disappoint us.
I cannot simply displace my unhappiness. I gotta grab it and make it my own.

It's so much easier to get respect from adults than from people my age.

Just gotta stop thinking for a while. Just gotta stop thinking. So often I turn my music up as loud as possible and just scream along. It's fun! It's great!

Just gotta stop thinking...

I'm downtown right now. I came here for breakfast.

I invited some friends, but I guess it was too early. So I walked around for a couple hours, and it was...nice. I didn't have to try to make conversation. I didn't have to ask about someone's day. I didn't have to try to be funny or witty or thoughtful or kind or relaxed when I know I'm none of those things. I wasn't concerned with how I looked or the vibe I put off. I wasn't plagued with jealousy or feelings of inadequacy. I didn't fantasize. I didn't stare with envious eyes. I didn't ponder my short-comings. I didn't worry about boring anyone. I had no pretense. I had no obligations. I was simply...me, and it was nice.

I could admire the buildings without articulating what I liked about them. I could look at a book without remarking about the title. I looked at myself and thought: you're a pretty cool guy, Chris. I told myself, "Don't preoccupy yourself with 'ifs' and 'maybes.' And it might be sad that this is the first time in a long time that you've had peace of mind, at least you have it now."

So maybe I'm not an intellectual or a poet or a prince charming or a comedian or an alpha. So maybe I'll never stun someone with my profundity. So maybe I'll never enamor someone I'm enamored with. So maybe I'll never write a Shakespearean sonnet. So maybe I'll never provoke anything more than a chuckle. So maybe I'll never be the most confident or fit guy. Right now, for the first time in my memory, I don't hate myself. Besides, it's foolish to speak in absolutes.

I've never looked for pity. I've never wanted someone to tell me what a poor thing I am and how life has been so hard on me, 'cause that's bullshit. I've never wanted anything more than understanding.

Funny thing how people always say that you deserve better, but then no one ever gives it to you. You have to earn it.

This morning has been incredibly therapeutic, and even if the effects don't last, I'm glad they existed.

This is only a place for me to vent. I'm not looking for understanding or help.
"Don't leave my hyper heart alone on the water."
Sometimes I find myself walking away from my friends for a couple minutes. Sometimes I barely talk. I do that when I can't think, when my brain is too full of bad ideas and fantasies to hold a conversation. I think it comes off as pretension sometimes, or self-pity, or pouting. Maybe it is sometimes.

I am the only person in between myself and happiness. No one can bring it to me. Even if all I want was given to me, I'd be a miserable person. So I have to change the way I think. I can't be a tunnel-sighted romantic. I can't be a pensive child. I've known these things for a while. But really, Chris.



"No one said this would be easy."

Those that are not loved want love more than those that are.

The people that never grow up are the most grown up.

I don't want to make too broad a statement without acknowledging the fact that I am only a teenager and that I have a very small pool of experience from which to derive. So now that the disclaimer is out of the way: the people that appreciate love the most are the ones that don't get it. Funny, huh? Not really. Pretty...sad.

The more I get to know a person, the more enamored I become with everything about that person. It's a flaw in my nature. To quote Charlie Kaufman's incredible movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who shows me the least bit of attention?

I am a pseudo-romantic. I'm a pseudo-intellectual. I'm a pseudo-friend. I'm just...false.

It's an awful thing to be in love with the idea of love.

"Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long-preserved virginity,
And your quaint honor turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning glow,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run."
-Andrew Marvell

Today we saw the moon fall. We thought the world was going to end. "What do we do?", we jokingly asked. "We fuck!" I jokingly said. If everyone was immortal, sex would rarely happen. But we're not. I'm not any more obsessed with fucking than any other guy, but there's a reason why it's such a large part of the eternal zeitgeist.

I always have a plan. Always. I envision myself growing a pair. But whatever. You have to crawl before you can walk.

I didn't love myself until I stopped loving you;
These melancholy skies can't hold any truth.
The night turns on and I think to myself:
Will it ever fall on somebody else?
Mess of blue and grey summons the day away.
When it rains it pours. The rain isn't here to stay.
Kicked the habit. Now I'm back on the train.
Now I disappear into the mellow, quiet rain.

My pretentious longings sink to my lungs;
A flash of green disappears with the sun.
I stare from a beach, burnt and alone.
More content than I've ever been because I can see that I've grown.

Cynicism is always in fashion. I've been told that I seem cynical and judgmental; I'm not. I'm vocal about my opinions, yes, but my opinions aren't any worse than the next person's. I'm a very firm believer in the goodness of people. I'm a very firm believer in the subjective nature of life. If I dislike someone, I remind myself that there are people that love that person.
I project my ideas of perfection onto other people, which is bad. I don't see any goodness in myself, even if though there's plenty. I...I'm working on building confidence in myself so I can engender it in others.

"If you don't believe in fantasy then don't believe in fantasy but
do you not believe in fantasy because it gets you down?
If you don't believe it's raining I won't tell you that it's raining
but do you not believe it's raining just because it gets you down?
If you don't believe in happiness then don't believe in happiness
but if you don't believe in happiness then man you must be down.
If you don't believe you're dying I won't tell you that you're dying
but do you not believe you're dying just because it gets you down?"

No one ever really comes to understand another person. We create closer and closer approximations of who that person is, but it is only asymptotically. Some people have a whole number in front of their variable, some people have a fraction; regardless, none of us ever reach 1, but we never start out at zero either. Every single person is so similar.
Sometimes I like to tell myself that I'm unique; that I am a beacon of originality in a world of conformity; well I used to like to tell myself that. I don't anymore. Why? Because I'm not. We make people different; we choose to give certain actions certain connotations, but we rarely actually see the true meaning behind them. I am the same type of person that you are, that he is, that she is.
To try to stand out defeats the purpose of standing out. Everyone tries to stand out; some people do it through ostentatious eccentricity, some people convince themselves that they are the only people to ever think of something. We forget the value of empathy. We want to stand alone, and above, in a sea of humanity. But we forget that everyone is on a couple phonebooks, so our attempts at originality only make us more like everyone else.

Every thought has been thought, feeling felt, heart hurt. And by every person too. I am not unique not enlightened nor intelligent nor profound. I do not consider myself wiser than any other person for thinking this, because everyone has his own wise ideas. Everyone is an intellectual, a writer, a poet, an athlete, an eccentric, a mystery, an open book, a lover, a fighter.

In a world of over 6.5 billion people, how can I consider myself to be unique in any way?

How can anyone?

Neutrality is a choice to help the winning side.

I feel...lied to, almost? Maybe it was all just my mind.

Pain is measured by duration, not intensity.

I just need to survive one more year. One more year of all this. I've survived the past three. It doesn't get easier, but just one more. One more. One day at a time. Each hour. More difficult than the next, but I just need to survive one more.

I just wan to fall asleep for an eternity.

I'm sick with insecurity.

“Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.”
-Oscar Wilde

I need a more elegant way of articulating what I feel.

The only thing keeping me from happiness is myself; I know this. God, do I know it. So what next? I can't seem to think myself into happiness.

I don't have much to complain about. I don't know why I'm perpetually miserable.

Some things are just overwhelming.

This morning I nearly thought myself into a coma, or some sort of incoherent state. This morning I hated myself; I hated myself the way I hated myself weeks ago, but every time it feels worse. I can't make someone else happy if I can't even make myself...not happy, but even just neutral.
My jealous eyes already possess.
My hateful mind hates only itself.
I wish I was avant-garde.
I wish I was clever.
Witty.
Attractive.
Smart.
I know what I would make myself. I hate that some people are already my ideal. I move too slowly. I was never able to move at all. I've said this with sincerity before, and now it is still as genuine: I want to die.

I can't make people like me.

Just when I thought I was coping, I find a couple reasons to stay miserable.

I realize that what I want is selfish. I realize that everyone deserves the best (s)he can get, but it doesn't help.

Two things tonight made me...sad.
1) A great friend, that practically saved my junior year of high school, leaves for California tomorrow and tonight was the last time I saw her.
Second...huh.

Shit. I wanna fucking die.

I want to die.

I'm a foolish, mopey, miserable, childish pest.

I won't do it. I concede defeat. I lack the charm and ability to ever reach that high.

If only I could read minds, then I'd never have to take a chance. So. I am presented with a choice, I know where one path leads, but the second has never been trodden, but with good reason. Do I dare? My fear is so large, but at this moment, I think my stupidity is behemoth.

Well, here I am, I think. You know that "wasteland" that I referred to earlier? I'm in it. I tried to avoid it. I tried to make things clear. I tried to do that. But I lack things that would have prevented this. Maybe I can try to get out one last time. Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe I should wait...maybe I shouldn't. If only I could interpret things better...

There's a creeping disease that no one can avoid, but must be avoided. It eats up ambition and makes passion stale. To stop it, one must constantly reinvent oneself.

I hope that no one ever has a legitimate reason to call me an asshole or a dick or a douche or arrogant.

Everyone knows what hurt feels like. The depth of pain can be measured by it's longevity. To say that someone doesn't understand to is to misunderstand.

Sometimes I don't know what to think of myself. Sometimes I just want an honest summation of everything I am written out in front of me.

I wish tone and intent was easier to decipher through text. Somethings can be so ambiguous that I don't know what the hell to think.

I can't be selfish. I can't read too much into things. I don't have that kind of effect on people, even if certain people have it on me.

I'm afraid I've been sent somewhere I've been before. Somewhere not pleasant in the least. A place of envy and self-pity and pensive, immature thoughts. And if this is the role I have been relegated, then so be it. But I will decide to make an effort while I'm still stuck at the border. I refuse to allow myself to be willingly and easily returned to that wasteland. Is anything truly mutual? One can only hope...

Why do you have to be so much better than me? It does nothing for my esteem.

I don't think I can stop being a miserable person.

Shit. I complicate things.

Although I've never been in one, here's a thought:
I respect the intricacies of the teenage relationship. It's an agreement more than anything else. It's two people admitting that at some point in time, they'll no longer feel the same way about the other person. That, at some point in time, they won't be together anymore. That, at some point in time, they'll hurt...badly. That in the future they'll feel like shit, that they'll hurt and hurt and hurt, that things won't be the same. But, in full knowledge of this, they allow themselves to be known intimately and become enamored and infatuated. They say: I know that you'll hurt me, or that I'll hurt you, but right now I don't care, right now you make me happy and I want that happiness more than I fear the inevitable pain that comes with it.

If person can get someone to feel that way about him, then there has to be something wonderful and amazing and courageous and crazy inside that person, even if both parties will choose to ignore those qualities in the future.

There really aren't bad guys. If you're alive then you've hurt someone, how can you hate someone else for doing the same? Whether you know it or not, you've caused someone pain.

So fuck that shit. Life is dynamic. And I'm willing to trade a lot of pain for a little happiness, because otherwise you're just stuck with a shitload of pain.

But like I said, this is something I've never experienced.

All the talk of "accepting who you are" and shit is stupid. Why would I want to become complacent? Why would I want to ever become comfortable with all the awful things that I inherently am? Why would anyone? Fuck that. I'm glad that I am never satisfied with myself. I hope no one ever is.

I'd hate for someone to think that I'm looking for pity.

? retend to punch someone? You harbor some ill-will towards them. You pretend to drown yourself? You wanna die.

? I see motive behind everything because I put motive behind everything. You take a step to the left? You wanna be closer to the person on your left. You p

Today, I should have been glad. I felt guilty for not being happy. My stupidity made things awkward and stupid. As long as there are better people than me, I won't have much luck at getting people to like me. I need to better myself.
I also wish I had the self-control to actually try.

I should be feeling good. I can't help but make myself suffer.

I can't help but feel fickle.

? Everyone struggles with esteem issues. The greatest compliment, that I can think of at the moment, is to ask, "what do you hate about yourself?" and then

? to dismiss that hate.

Christ, I am a whiny bitch. But I'll indulge myself like I have been.
I have a deeply, deeply rooted fear of rejection. I'm often too anxious to ask even my closest friends to hang out or something, because I'm afraid they'll say no. I hate that I'm not driving, because I think of it as only another reason for my friends to decide to not spend time with me(although I do spend quite a bit of time with friends).
I am livid with self-hate.

I am livid with self-hate.

Self-awareness isn't righteous. Irony isn't clever.
I'm doing what countless other people have done and what countless otheres will do.
This is crude, ugly writing.
Oh, to be a poet, to work around a language with wit and originality.
I can't even get the grammaar right:or the spelling.
Everyone's out of my league. Everyone's too beautiful, too smart, too in-shape, too quick, too kind, too good for me. This was a cruel and hilarious prank.

When I like something, I like it a lot. When I dislike something, I dislike it a lot. I like to have reasons for those things, so I don't seem like I arbitrarily like/dislike things. I try to be a passionate person.

My final year of high school is sneaking up on me. Kind of like complacency.
I remember hearing that "wisdom is too painful for the young." I'm glad I'm not wise, but I can't let myself start suspecting that I am.

I am too mean. I need to work on that.

I was recently told that I'm one-in-a-thousand. You know what thought immediately came to my mind? That there are 3000 people just like me in the United States alone.

I'm too hard on myself? I seem to hear that a lot. I don't think I am. I think I'm honest with myself; I think I don't let myself slip into a feeling of undeserved self-content. I try not to delude myself. Not that these people that accuse me delude themselves, but that I know that I will if I become complacent about myself. Not that I'm immune to complacency or pretension or anything like that; I don't know...

"In love addiction, the individual will feel needed and so insecure about themselves, that they become attached to the object of their affection. It is typically not normal desire of a union, but a hungry, insatiable power, that distorts the person's perception of reality. Because of this, love addiction is simply suffering brought about by an obsession over another."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_addiction

I am such a burden to my friends.

Sometimes I wonder if I've ever added anything. However vague that is...What I mean to say is: I only detract from a situation. No one has ever been glad I was with them for an event. No one I want to be glad, at least. But that's selfish and mean of me. But what I can I say?

Catharsis makes me stupid. I don't wanna be pretentious or silly or immature, but I can't help it. All roads lead to hurt. All roads lead to self-hate.

I'm not trying to be a poet, or an attention lover. I just want to put my head into words, but I'm so dumb that sometimes I can't even do that.

There are some places it'll never snow, some ways the wind'll never blow.

Sometimes I miss my dad. I remember one time he took me with him on a trip to Austin for some reason. In our hotel room he let me try on his cologne. I was about 11. It's moments like those that I miss, moments that are nice. I wish my life had more nice moments: they've been missing lately.

Is painting the art or is the picture>

I love waking up to a text message: what a great feeling it is to wake up knowing you were in someone's mind?

Lost In Translation

Wow. That movie gets me every time. It's a melancholy film, but not a sad one. The ending is both a happy ending and a sad one. Most of all, it's comforting...to me at least. This movie is best on a sleepless night or a sad night or just night. It takes me to a place where sadness isn't gone, but it's normal. It's not a film that indulges depression or tries to make you feel awful, it just reminds you that there are sad parts of life.

What I love most about this film is the feel it has. It's submerged, underwater, almost aquatic. Different shades of blue permeate the film, making it seem like you're stuck in an aquarium. And when it's done, I feel comforted, and secure, and glad, and ready to get a night's sleep and wake up the next day with a lighter heart.

What does that for you? What do you do to comfort yourself? What reassures you? What gives you an invaluable peace of mind? Where can you relax?

FFXIII is a bit boring...

There's nothing I'd rather have to figure out on my own than be told.

I'm getting lazier.

Nintendo just took control of E3.

I don't want to be comforted. I don't want to stop.

A feeling of worthlessness isn't a good one. There's obviously nothing good about me. Watch "The Shape of Things."

I've been myself. He's not nice.

*slap!*
Grow up! Stop whining! You're regressing rather than growing into what you can be!

Wait. That's not helping.



How does one change oneself?

"The heavens expand, the stars advance, feel the boogie man." Rockin' out to Mos Def.

Do I lack quirkiness? Do I lack uniqueness? Am I too plain? Too ugly? Too odd? Too silly? Too vulgar? Too selfish? Too creepy? Too weird? Too normal?
"I burn, I pine, I perish." Every day. Every hour. Every infinitesimal moment. "I burn! I pine! I perish!"

I was reading on the Wiki that men, on average, cry once a month. That's...way too often; I doubt that very much.

I just ate an entire pizza after not eating for approximately 48 hours...My stomach feels awful.

I cannot think straight. I cannot comprehend. I hate myself. I want to live. I want to die. There's a...thundering in my head. A dissonance.

That's what I am when I know what I see.

I'm so selfish. Why can I never seem to want the same things as other people? I...I wish I was that which I am wanted to be. But I'm not, and I won't pretend to be, because I just won't. But why can't I be?

Junior year is over. Yay?

hello anonymous reader
I'm a whiner
I cannot deal, but I continue.
I am a fool.
I am ignorant.
I don't see the worst in people; I see myself.
I am not unique, although this may seem like a grab at uniqueness.
That was a bad sentence.
I am a bad person.
These next couple weeks...I don't know how I'm going to live with myself through them.
These next couple months too.
And these next couple years.
The next decade. The one after that. Am I a copycat? Do I emulate that which I wish to be? I don't know anything, and I'll do my best to not pretend to.

What is it about me that's so off-putting? What makes people decide that they don't like me? What is wrong with my head? I mean, dammit! Really!? What about me is so wrong? So messed up? So...unattractive? So odious?





What part of me is the ugly part?

Damn.

In a world where the majority of the population gets married, and at least half of that population stays married, why can we not seem to focus on any part of romance but the heartache? So many movies have heartbroken characters, SO much music is about heartache. Just wondering...

I'm watching The Messenger. Things like this show me how transient and stupid the problems I have are. I'm a pussy. I'm a bitch. I think a stupid fuckin' teenage crush is God damned painful! That's bullshit. I'm bullshit. Fuck...

I know what I lack: anything desirable. I can't fix that either. Fuck me. FUCK what I am. I am both jealous and devastated at this epiphany. I hate myself and I am upset with and envious of everyone. Yeah, I'm vague, but I'm too immature and inhibited to go into any more specifics.

Alright. I think I got it. I'm not amazing.

I am fully aware of my own foolishness. I am ignorant and pretentious and unaware and stupid. Only a fool would think himself knowledgeable, genuine, informed, or intelligent. So I contradict myself; fully knowing the transparency of the attributes to which I have assigned myself, I allow my fantasy. There is nothing good about me, and I know this. But I refuse to think it. In the back of my mind I will, until I mature and grow, hate what I am, but refuse to believe that I am it.

Am I that much of an ass? Am I that awful? Am I so undesirable? Am I so fucking bad? What is so despicable about me? What is so wrong with me? I'd ask, but that would be uncouth. I want to know. What the hell did I do?

Cynicism is always the vogue. I need to stop talking politics: it burns bridges.

I have a pretty bad case of poison ivy right now. Finals in two weeks. I feel like yesterday was a missed opportunity.

I woke up this morning the same way I woke up ten years ago. The same way I'll wake up ten years from now. The same way I woke up the day my father died. The same way I'll wake up the morning my dog dies. The same way I'll wake up the morning my grandfather dies. The same way I'll wake up the day my mother dies. The same way I'll wake up before I get married. The same way I'll wake up when I'm 40, 50, 80. The same way I won't wake up when I die.

In a good mood right now. Thanks, Animal Collective!

Bad Saturday. Really bad. I've grown spoiled.

Again, I don't know what to think.

I'm just in a bad mood right now.

Oh man. I'm pissed.

Upset at everything right now.

I've just been projecting what's wrong with myself. I cannot force anything upon anyone and I don't know why I tried. I'm just a fool...

The apathy is coming again. It's like a creeping. Huge bursts of emotion and depression and passion, and then...nothing. No love. No pain. Just fear and a bit of resentment that you take out on arbitrary things. Hopefully I'll start caring again soon, except in a more...reciprocal transaction.

I can't decide about anything. I want to so badly, but fear and inhibition stop me. I hope I'm doing the right thing. It'd kill me to know that it was my turn.

I just feel hopeless. Wanting something does make it happen. I want to stop caring...

I will save my judgements for the mean time. The success of all this relies on myself, not someone else.

AP Spanish 4 Exam tomorrow. My only chance to get college credit for 8 months of work. I hope I do well...

Relay For Life was tons of fun yesterday, but today has been awful. I woke up around 4 and I've been down all day. It's like all the fun I had last night is completely juxtaposed with today. I just kind of realize how awful I feel right after I forget about it.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick.

I don't need this fucking shit right now. Fuck this. My envy and jealously are plaguing my God damned head. I am practically in love but I have never felt the slightest hint of reciprocation, only counterfeit experimentation. Tell me, God damn it. Just fucking tell me. Every time I see her sad, I can't help but think that it's because of someone else. Ever time I see her happy, I can't help but think that it's because of someone else. I've been told that romanticism is beyond her capacity right now, by her. But I can't help but think that it's simply an excuse to keep me away. I can't help but feel that she just wants to try to protect me, but God fucking dammit, just tell me the truth.

They're right, you know. About depression. There's a blackness in your heart. I don't know how else to describe it; it's just a darkness, a misery.
It's not a crying kind of sadness; it would feel nice to cry. You can't cry; you just keep dying inside. Sometimes you think that life isn't worth it, but then you catch yourself. But the thought still lingers in your forehead. You want to show people how sad you are; you want empathy; you want kindness; you want the entire population to pine and burn and rot just like you. You want to indulge yourself but you want it to stop. You can't imagine life without it, but you can't bear to live with it. I assume it feels like this for everyone. Maybe because of different reasons or towards different things, but it feels like this. It isn't immature; it isn't stupid; it isn't classifiable. It's just hell. Fucking hell.
You wish you show how awful you feel. You wish it's visible in your eyes. You wish that everyone that sees you knows your pain, understands it. And they probably do, but their facade is just as imperceptible as yours. So everyone goes on feeling awful and suicidal. If all the lonely, depressed, melancholy, pensive people in the world would just say so, they'd feel an empathy and understanding that would erase all their pain. But they don't.
I need to get help before I do something I don't get a chance to regret.

I wish I was bi-polar or major depressive. Then I'd at least have something to blame...

I tell myself that I'm the sensitive, deep one. I tell myself that I'm the John Cusack at my high school. I know I'm not, though. I know it. Telling myself to grow up won't do anything: I have to do it. But I don't want to; I want to indulge my immaturity. I want to stay as enamored and ignorant and stupid and crazy and depressed and melancholy as I am right now.

I feel so unwanted. Every venture only reminds you how little time you want to spend with me. Fuck. Me. I. Am. Depressed.

Why do I do this? Because I'm selfish. I'm being stupidly passive aggressive. I want attention. I want specific attention. I want you to read these.

I am willing to be just your anything, but I'm not content to. I doubt that the next will be any different from the past three, but afterwards, everything starts again. I don't look forward to it, but I can't stand things right now.

Gotta read the sparknotes for The Jungle...I wish I had actually read this book.

Be genuine but counterfeit. Be optimistic but pensive. Be thoughtful but shallow. Be fit but unhealthy. Be ugly but beautiful. Be unassuming but pretentious.

Misao Fujimura's suicide note

Delicate line between heaven and earth...
The calm of the ages,
all the world's worth.
Such minuscule measure,
while we think it so grand...
Just five specks of smallness,
This soft quiet land.
So frail and so fleeting,
in the end you will see
Simple dreams were Horatio's philosophy.

For all the truth,
all creation,
all secrets of yore
Can be told in an instant,
by then they're no more.

Ah, The Unexplainable
All worries unsettled,
heartache unresolved...
All questions unanswered,
with death, shall be solved.

We already teeter,
this sheer cliff so high.
When we fall to corruption,
insecurities die.

To end is to start;
to surrender is to know.

Despair and depression,
together they grow.
Hope shall meet hopeless
when there's nowhere to go.

So this kid was 17, my age, when he carved this poem into a tree in 1903 and killed himself afterwards. Fantastic poem.

I have my own private rollercoaster.
If someone takes responsibility for everything, and constantly apologizes, isn't that a form of narcissism? I feel that way. I blame myself for so much, but I realize that it's very narcissistic to do that: I made you sad, I bumped into you. It's my fault. I make the world go round. But I don't. I have barely any effect on anyone. The smallest action can send me into a profound depression, but I don't have that power over anyone. Maybe I wish I did. The smallest action just sent me into a profound depression, if you haven't gathered as much by now. I get so easily jealous about someone that doesn't seem to realize that I am so deeply enamored, or at least doesn't care as much as I wish. Maybe. Maybe not. I just know that I'm being ridiculous, but I will indulge my depression. I will indulge it and hide it and suppress it and continue to be in it until I grow the fuck up. Which doesn't seem to be coming soon...

Are we all moving infinitely fast? If I move an infinitesimal amount of space in an infinitesimal amount of time, am I moving at an infinite speed?

I'm just all over the place.

I'm just being stupid. Nothing can be this complicated.

FINALLY evolved my Pupitar! Planning on evolving my Dragonair today too.

Visited UNT today. It was informational, but I didn't enjoy the trip very much: I wish I had at least brought a friend.

I'm always contradicting myself. I have to let myself know that I am not infinitely more intelligent than the average person. I am not enlightened. I am not mature. I am not independent and I'm not grown up. I can't read people's minds. My thoughts are not profound. My actions are not always genuine. I don't look better and I don't act better. I am not above average and anyway and I can't let myself think that because I know this, that I somehow become above average.I will probably never contribute to a lasting effect on culture or people. I can simply be the best I can be, and my best is not better than anyone's.

I apple-a-gize to all of the ZERO people that follow me for not posting yesterday, but I did two on Monday, so it evens out. Pretty uneventful day besides my new phone arriving in the mail. Homework? Yes.

Each brief encounter leaves me more enamored and perplexed. A smile lights a jealous match and a laugh snuffs out every fire I've ever had. But an iris is charcoal and a word is a sudden conflagration.

Cynicism is just a lazy way to say you've been burned.

I'm only atoms and compounds and reactions. How am I possibly conscious? How can I possibly have free will? Do I? I do know that I'm only human. And strings can only be stretched so far before they break forever.
I've grown tired of school, which is surprising. I think it's because I actually have friends outside of school right now. I've made really, really slow progress. I couldn't care less if I am above average. I want to be objectively good.

Pretty average day. I was hoping to do stuff, but I'm not super disappointed that I didn't. Probably because yesterday was really fun. Oh well. I don't feel unique. I know that I'm not, but I wish I made more of an impression on people. A positive one, of course.

Pretty awesome day.

So I saw How To Train Your Dragon with a friend. But before that we played Jurassic Park and ate at Subway. After the movie we went to her house and played Tales of Vesperia and DDR. It was really fun.

D 'n D

So I played DnD with some friends today for the first time. It was pretty cool. We didn't actually get much done because we spend most of the time setting up our characters, but we got it rolling towards the end. Tomorrow is going to be very neat.

Oh goodness. Missing yesterday fucked me over.

So the Spanish field trip was pretty cool. But shit always tends to happen on bus rides: maybe it's because there's not enough room. Anyhow, I think I pissed some people off and I think I annoyed even more people. I feel shitty.

Pretty cool day. I had a fun time hanging out with Brian and Jordan and David for a while.

Tons of Homework

AP Psych and AP English. God this sucks. Oh well.

Silliness

Filmed an English project with some friends. It was pretty silly and fun. I still feel lonely.

Today Was Awful

Boring and uneventful. Have I stopped enjoying being with my family? Or was I never really "with" them? Regardless, today sucked. I wish I had stayed at home and hung out with friends.

Broken Phone

Darn Blackberries are always losing their track balls. I hope I don't come off as overeager or something. God I want to spend every second...

A bit of comfort or anxiety.

Every thought that I have thought has been thought by someone else. Every action that I've done has been done by someone else. Every opinion that I've had has been had by someone else. Every word that I've said has been said. Every thing I've seen had been seen. Every feeling has been felt. I am not unique in any sense of the word.

I feel foolish.

A Melancholy Day

Pretty much. Each brief encounter only leaves me more enamored and perplexed. Again with this silliness.

I want to write and listen to music and learn...

Not do stupid projects or tedious homework. I feel terribly guilty for something that was mostly out of my control. Maybe I take too much credit for things; maybe I'm narcissistic. That seems pretty narcissistic of me.

Reciprocation

Reciprocation. It's wonderful. Do you reciprocate? I hope that I do. The most I can ever wish for is that someone enjoys my presence and much as I enjoy theirs. That's not too much to ask, is it? I love being with my friends; I hope they love being with me too.

I'm leveling my Pupitar!

I had a fun little faux pas today: someone in Physics saw my Pokewalker and asked me what it was. Pretty cool stuff. Other than that I feel a bit invasive and overeager. I've quite a bit of work to do straight out of break. I don't like that.

Idonotwanttogoback.(I'm such a creeper)

Had an Open House today, it was pretty awful. At least people liked my room. I feel like Darth Vader: I'm having feelings that I haven't had in a long time. Oh well. School tomorrow, not good. I should have finished my projects...Fughettabowdit. I'm glad I could hang out with friends as much as I did over the break, although it was a sporadic and unpredictable break. I leave it a poorer, more pensive, and more persistent person, worse too.
I've been looking so long at these pictures of you...

Would you be lonely with me?

Holyshitholyshitholyshit. I just got back from a friend's house, and we accidentally broke his lamp...We did our best to make the damage unnoticeable, but I feel incredibly guilty. The day was fun, though, especially the morning...
I think all the lonely people in the world should keep each other from being lonely.

So. Do you ever think that you're narcissistic? I do. All the time. I think I am; I mean, only a narcissist would think he's narcissistic. Even having a blog is a bit narcissistic. But oh well. Do you ever wish you were better in any way? I wish my teeth were straighter; I wish I was better looking in general, but that's so unspecific, and everyone wishes that. What even goes in a blog? I don't know.
The skin underneath my ring is dieing. Huh.
I wonder how long until my Pupitar levels up...