|
|
| |
|
 |
| |
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
I feel like I need to say this.I miss my friends.My real friends.Friends I know would never bitch about me viciously to other people yet still hang out with me and pretend to be the best of friends.People who are really intrinsically nice. Who think of others too, and not just themselves.Who will not bitch about someone else whom they know dislikes me, and say that that perosn is really not very nice, yet still get along like a house on fire and not stand up for me when that person's taking a shot at me.Friends who have been through shit with me, and know my quirks, and accept me and love me for my quirks. Instead of just judging me. So disillusioned right now. It's like waking from a dream and knowing there's no way to reconcile things, except to go back to sleep, in full knowledge that I'll have to wake up again.I'm so close to imploding I feel the urge to just lash out at someone. Anyone. But particularly at that someone who's really giving me the shits. I've never met anyone as mean as her. I want to just be the mean bitch that some people find it so easy to be, and not give two hoots about anyone's feelings. To just say what I feel. To not give a fucking damn about anyone in the world but myself. So long as I'm happy, I don't give a fucking damn. But I can't. And I'm not. I'm not built that way, and it's making me miserable. I want to live the life fantastic. I want to be looked up to. To be marvelled at. To be wanted and to feel loved. To feel important. To feel as if I matter. But I don't. I'm feeling so uninspired and so hopeless and worthless. I'm so fucking self-indulgent I could slap myself. But I can't. I'm still a child at heart. I need someone to pamper and reassure me. I need to know that what I'm doing is worth something. It's not enough being good. I want to be the best. But of course, 'best' is always subjective, isn't it? I don't fucking care. 'Best' is 'best', and I want to be it. Someone please fucking slap me silly.Sometimes I really think I'll be better off living as a hermit on some Godforsaken island in some corner of the world. There'd be nothing to worry about. How perfect would that be? Just me and Nature and the internet and my books, which I'll order online. No social pretences whatsoever. Not even MSN. I'd be pretty happy I think. Or I could just go live in Tassie, that's close enough.I don't feel like I belong anywhere. It's all one big fucking scam. I feel sick. How nice it would be to just disappear for a bit. To just go to bed and dissipate into nothingness. At least that solves all problems of wanting to be something/someone I'm not.I can't handle the real world. It's too fucking depressing and manipulative. I'm feeling really weak right now. Who says drugs make you feel like shit? You don't even need drugs. All you have to do is just open your eyes and have a look at the people around you.Go ahead you can laugh all you want I got my philosophy Keeps my feet on the groundAnd I trust it like the ground That's why my philosophy It keeps me walking when I'm falling downI see that there is evil And I know that there is goodAnd the in-betweens I never understood Won't you look at me, Yeah I'm crazy, but I get the job done, and I saySo you can laugh all you want to But I got my philosophy Keeps my feet on the groundAnd I love you, you're my friend But you got no philosophyIt keeps me walking when I'm falling down ~ Philosophy, Ben Folds FiveWhat's more important: Career? Lifestyle? Friends? Family? Money?I have no idea. I'm so seriously caught in between it's not funny anymore.I'm a fucking coward, that's what I am. A fucking over-sensitive, gutless, weak, dependent, useless, hyper-emotional coward.It's one thing to expect too much of yourself. But when you expect too much of yourself and lack the ambition and drive to carry out what you want, that's when the shit hits the fan, I say.I just want to go to sleep and never wake up. But then I do, and I go through the day wondering what I'm doing with myself, with my life. And I go to bed and wish for the same thing, but I wake up again. And it all repeats in a vicious cycle.Don't get me wrong, I have my good days, and I also have the bad. But I still carry the uncertainty with me all the time, like a flower that's been run over by countless cars and sealed into the uneven texture of the bitumen. However hard you scrape at it, some flower bits still remain in the road. Until eventually it's run over so many times and disintegrated into nothingness that all you see is the blackness of the tar. Yet you know it's still there, however squashed and unlike it's original form. It just lingers, like a kink in your hair you can't get rid of.
|
|
 |
|
 | |
|
