Apathy is good and bad at the same time. It prevents you from being emotionally affected by the world around you, making it easier to keep a distance from those you don't want to get close to. The downside is that those you keep close by your side can hurt you more than you think. You can smile about it, put up a facade, hide the pain, do whatever is necessary, but once you're alone, the hurt surfaces. I'm asking that no matter what, you suck it up and still love them the same way, no matter how deeply they hurt you. Even if they don't care about you, even if you're just a friend, or a shoulder they use to lean on, even with all the cruel jokes they make and insist that it is nothing more than a joke. They can treat you good and treat you bad, call you their brother or their bitch; though it hurts, you must not show it. Your tears will only feed their ego.
I know, I know. Blah blah blah nobody gives a fuck about your broken heart, but you know something? Most days... I'm not even sure what I'm upset about
Mortality
Goodbyes are depressing... mainly because you never expect to say it or think it is anything more than a "see you tomorrow" kind of thing. But life is unpredictable and you will seldom achieve what you had aspired to, or you will succumb to societys expectations; and when you lose someone and don't even get the chance to say goodbye, knowing fully... deep down in your heart that the person they were looking at wasn't the real you... that's soul crushing.
Chat logs
On my oldest, functioning computer, I have chat logs extending back to 2006. It's so hauntingly beautiful how much has changed... how much I've changed.
Reading these logs from 2006 to 2011 brings up so many undesirable feelings and memories I thought I had left in the past... and raises so many unanswered questions.
How did I become so heartless as opposed to being so sympathetic when I was younger?
How did I go from loving my ex-best friend to not talking to her anymore?
But from what I observed the most from reading all these logs... why does love hurt so much?
It's horrible to know that the people I have ill feelings towards I hurt less than those I care for, and vice versa. So much has changed... and it's funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back... everything's different.
Reading these logs from 2006 to 2011 brings up so many undesirable feelings and memories I thought I had left in the past... and raises so many unanswered questions.
How did I become so heartless as opposed to being so sympathetic when I was younger?
How did I go from loving my ex-best friend to not talking to her anymore?
But from what I observed the most from reading all these logs... why does love hurt so much?
It's horrible to know that the people I have ill feelings towards I hurt less than those I care for, and vice versa. So much has changed... and it's funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back... everything's different.
Eye can't see
I've always been good at hiding my emotions, but every now and then you noticed the little things. A small sigh under my breath that I didn't even realise I had made, or maybe I didn't put the 'smile' into my eyes quite fast enough. You asked me what was wrong, and I blew it off with a silly, semiplausible excuse like "I'm just really tired" or "ha little sighs are a habit I picked up from my dad, I don't even realise I'm doing it sometimes." I didn't wan't you to worry about me, but it felt good that you asked. It felt good that you showed you noticed, and even more important that you cared.
But you also believed me when I lied, and soon the tiny cues that I was having trouble keeping my head up wen't straight past you and you no longer showed me that you noticed, or that you cared. And I know it's my fault. And now that I've shut that door I have noone else that cares.
But you also believed me when I lied, and soon the tiny cues that I was having trouble keeping my head up wen't straight past you and you no longer showed me that you noticed, or that you cared. And I know it's my fault. And now that I've shut that door I have noone else that cares.
escape
I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others-- only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his ribcage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad
Self respect
We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and-- in spite of True Romance magazines-- we shall someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely-- at least, not all the time-- but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.
Before you can grow up, you must fall in love 3 times
Once you must fall in love with your best friend, ruining your friendship forever.
This will teach you who your true friends are, and the fine line between friendship and more.
Once you must fall in love with someone you believe to be perfect.
You will learn no one is perfect, and that you should never be treated as any less than you deserve.
And once you must fall in love with someone who is exactly like you.
This will teach you about who you are and who you want to be.
And when you're through all that, you learn that the people who care about you the most are the ones that you hurt, and the ones that hurt you are the ones that you needed the most.
But most of all, you learn that love is only a concept and is not something that can be defined, it is different to each person that experiences it. And you will learn to respect each and every person on this earth, knowing that everyone only wants to be loved...
The most important things are the hardest to say
They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried when you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for the want of a teller but for the want of an understanding ear.
Sigh
Love is when you shed a tear but still want her. It's when she ignores you and you still think the world of her. It's when she loves another boy, but you smile and say, "I'm happy for you," when all you really do is cry.
Just a little longer
You were afraid that you would disappear, that you would be lost and forgotten. I held you tight against the dark and said that I would always come for you. Then one day it happened. You were torn from my arms and vanished from this world. Maybe you don't remember my promise, but I meant every word. I hope you're not afraid, wherever you are. You don't need to be. I'm not. I will find you.
I feel contented
I feel contented to just stare at your display name even though I know you won't talk to me and I know that I don't have the guts to start a conversation with you
I miss you
Missing someone isn't about how long it has been since you've seen them or the amount of time since you've talked. It's about that very moment when you're doing something and wishing they were right there with you
It's happening again
You're always tired from your mind going a million miles a minute. All that really appeals to you is cowering under covers and sleeping off all your relentless, pointless efforts in trying to make everything better. You are disillusioned. Maybe you know that you can change things around, but you question whether you want to or not. Because being sad has some kind of comfort to you- because there's always that familiarity. No matter how long your sadness has been prolonged, it's known that when you revisit it, the same thoughts, feelings and actions all take place. You revisit the same place where you left off.
2:05 AM
I'm trying to sleep, but the voices in my head are too loud, and I'm remembering all these things that I've done. So I turn to my side and face the wall, and breathe slowly. Close my eyes, open them, close them once more. I see his face now, you know, the boy I told you about. Now, I know I won't be able to sleep. I suppose this is why most people are insomniacs; the voices won't go away, the memories keep coming back, and people haunt them in the darkness of the night. I turn the lights on, sit on the edge of my bed and cry. Just a little bit, just to make it easier to breathe. I turn the lights off and try to sleep again; it's going to be a long night.
I am unsure about who I am
I hate it when people judge me when I don't even know how to judge myself. Life seems so difficult when for some people it seems so easy. I feel like everyone in this world was given a manual on how to live but I wasn't given mine. I wonder why I don't fit in. These thoughts constantly haunt my mind. I hate how this world works. I hate people. I hate human nature. How are inhumane things human nature? I hate greed. I hate love. I hate hate. I wish life would just slow down.
I hate the fact that I think I might be deep when I type things like this. Are these actually my thoughts? or am I trying too hard to write something deep? I think I am incapable of feeling deep emotions. I've never cried at a funeral. I've never been happy at a wedding. I rarely smile. I feel very shallow. I hate posers. I feel this makes me a poser myself. I don't know why I'm writing my thoughts up here. Maybe it is to vent... maybe it is because I want to impress classmates. I'm not sure. I hate myself. I feel so conflicted. I wish the world was easy and I could just find out who I am. I plan out conversations that I might have with people so I can try to be less awkward around those people. I just don't really know what to do. I truthfully hope no one reads this, however I also want people to read this. I feel very nervous right now. I am conflicted whether or not to show or censor out all of these words. I don't think I've ever told anyone what is typed up here. I will probably end up not censoring these words. I hate the fact that I hope people will be impressed by this.
I hate that I want to impress people. I hate the fact that I feel the need to impress people. I hate it when people look at me weird. I hate how ignorant people are. I hate it even more when I am ignorant. What is wrong with me? Why did God put me on Earth? Ugh... I don't like me. Does anybody else analyse themselves like this? Is something wrong with me because I do? Is it sad that I find comfort that I characterise myself as insane so that i have a reason for who I am? Is it sad that I have all these thoughts in me?
Why do you care?
I hate the fact that I think I might be deep when I type things like this. Are these actually my thoughts? or am I trying too hard to write something deep? I think I am incapable of feeling deep emotions. I've never cried at a funeral. I've never been happy at a wedding. I rarely smile. I feel very shallow. I hate posers. I feel this makes me a poser myself. I don't know why I'm writing my thoughts up here. Maybe it is to vent... maybe it is because I want to impress classmates. I'm not sure. I hate myself. I feel so conflicted. I wish the world was easy and I could just find out who I am. I plan out conversations that I might have with people so I can try to be less awkward around those people. I just don't really know what to do. I truthfully hope no one reads this, however I also want people to read this. I feel very nervous right now. I am conflicted whether or not to show or censor out all of these words. I don't think I've ever told anyone what is typed up here. I will probably end up not censoring these words. I hate the fact that I hope people will be impressed by this.
I hate that I want to impress people. I hate the fact that I feel the need to impress people. I hate it when people look at me weird. I hate how ignorant people are. I hate it even more when I am ignorant. What is wrong with me? Why did God put me on Earth? Ugh... I don't like me. Does anybody else analyse themselves like this? Is something wrong with me because I do? Is it sad that I find comfort that I characterise myself as insane so that i have a reason for who I am? Is it sad that I have all these thoughts in me?
Why do you care?
3:42 AM
You sit on your front porch, watching the street light across the street. It flickers once. It's 3:42 am and you just realised that even though your family loves you, the only thing you need is someone to care for, someone to love.
So you sit on your front porch, watching the light. You might smoke a cigarette or two, but you don't really need them. You watch the tree near the street light sway in the wind, scared of life.
You might have had a girl in your life once, but it soured and went wrong. It might have been your fault, but odds are that it wasn't. Odds are is that she dumped you, because being with you made her depressed. Then you realised that you just lost a great chance to change your life around.
So you sit outside your front porch. You watch the street light across the street. You might shed a tear or two, but this isn't a physical sadness that can be purged. This is a soul-crushing, black abyss kind of sadness. And you are scared and alone, all you want is someone to look at you and say: "Everything will be okay. Come with me"
Instead, you sit on your front porch. You watch the street light. And you die inside
So you sit on your front porch, watching the light. You might smoke a cigarette or two, but you don't really need them. You watch the tree near the street light sway in the wind, scared of life.
You might have had a girl in your life once, but it soured and went wrong. It might have been your fault, but odds are that it wasn't. Odds are is that she dumped you, because being with you made her depressed. Then you realised that you just lost a great chance to change your life around.
So you sit outside your front porch. You watch the street light across the street. You might shed a tear or two, but this isn't a physical sadness that can be purged. This is a soul-crushing, black abyss kind of sadness. And you are scared and alone, all you want is someone to look at you and say: "Everything will be okay. Come with me"
Instead, you sit on your front porch. You watch the street light. And you die inside
I am scared because I don't know what I'm feeling
It is anger and it is confusion and it is compassion in the purest form I can feel. It is elite and it is strong and it is the feeling of a guardian and it is the feeling of burden. It is selflessness and selfishness and jealousy, and it is possession. It is sadness, disappointment, and it is adortion, it is there and I know it is because I can just tell by looking at you...
I don't care anymore.
If I sit in my room all day doing nothing, there are no repercussions. For whom do I live? No one cares. No one depends on me. Nothing is worth it. There is nothing, only an emptiness that cannot be filled with video games and funny pictures, only masked by. And no one else seems to care, let alone notice my mental torment.
I want to die, but my life does not give me a reason to end it. The absence of a reason to end a life should never bring its demise. I feel like I want to break someone's heart, or get a terrible disease, or commit a violent crime just to have a motivation to tie the noose around my neck. But there is nothing... only a crushing depression brought about by my own admission.
I want to die, but my life does not give me a reason to end it. The absence of a reason to end a life should never bring its demise. I feel like I want to break someone's heart, or get a terrible disease, or commit a violent crime just to have a motivation to tie the noose around my neck. But there is nothing... only a crushing depression brought about by my own admission.
I'm a fucking unicorn
I don't belong to a large or popular group, I'm not a nerd, I don't follow anything devotedly, and anime confuses me. I'm not a jock; I'm not good enough at any sports. I'm not massively intellectual; mainly have a strong sense of common sense that transfers over to some schoolwork. But, to those I know, I always have to be the cheerful guy, the one people tell their problems to. I have to remain the stable one that will always do what he can to help those around him, even if he knows they'll just ignore him later. I have my life sooo much better off because of my material possessions and my "happy family". I can't ever complain, or people call me spoiled or inconsiderate. I have my own problems. I have absolutely no personality. I base most things I do on what people around me do, and can never be the first to do anything. I rarely get invited to do anything, and I have only about 4 friends who like to spend time with me, and I don't like taking risks at all. I am incredibly lonely almost all of the time, have parents who think I'm completely fine and I end up spending most of my time playing video games, or on the computer to pass the time. The days blend into each other, just one more preset period of time before I can go to university and hopefully start a fresh, while still knowing in my heart that I am still going to be the same outcast I am now. And after all this, I still have to force myself up in the morning to walk outside and try to be the stoic one who can solve everyone's fucking problems because, after all, apparently I'm the fucking stable one.
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