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So I took some time off... I was busy, and didn't want to feel like I was required to keep up writing here. It's not that it's such an effort necessarily, but I just like to try and make my posts at least somewhat interesting, and I have a hard time settling for less than that. So, since there are no repercussions for simply skipping, I did. I'm at college now - Lehigh University... and I'm having some fun. Classes aren't bad. I've made friends with Steve, a sophomore. Drank some of his flatmate's 151 - doubleshots. It did the trick. Quick.
I've never enjoyed so much doing school work. Okay, so this was mostly because I could look over at you, maybe even make you smile with some dumb comment. Of course I want to help you, I just also really enjoy your company. I also find you to be awfully attractive. It'd be my luck that it isn't mutual, but I can have my hopes? We exchanged numbers, and even if it was only for the immediate purpose of doing homework together, it's a start. I figure if that was the only reason, you wouldn't have given me yours, too.
Get sweatshirts for yourself, Regan, Paul. (not hoodie for Paul) and a bandana for Teddy -- Get admissions shit for Kat. That's what my dry erase board says. This probably means nothing to most people. To me, it means that I need to get some Lehigh sweatshirts for my little sister, Grandfather, and I. Also, a Lehigh bandana for my puppy (if they have one). Then, I have to stop by the admissions office after my last class on Tuesday (since that's the only time I'm near the admissions building, and get some information for Kathleen. I'm going home on Wednesday.
I've been writing haikus lately. It's a strange fucking habit, if that's what you want to call it. I sort of like the challenge of expressing a thought or feeling in only 17 syllables. Much like trying to make a 100 words post exactly 100 words. Flowers come and go/ But the wind won't give up its/ Hold on the petals. She's so beautiful/ Everything will fall apart/ My shoulders just shrug. Just close your bright eyes/ Night descends like a blanket/ Feelings like seasons. I lay down to sleep/ There is lonely in the air/ A sigh escapes me.
I live in a fantasy world. I walk and talk and sleep with people who aren't there. They love me and smile and laugh at my jokes. In reality I have no fucking clue what they do. A single conversation and you're part of my world. I'll take you and keep you and you'll talk to me all night and day. You'll hold me when I sleep and kiss me when I wake. You'll scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. You will end up mattering to me, but I won't even know you. Run and hide. Don't say "hi."
Without any natural predators, a species will overrun an area and destroy the environment. Without checks and balances, everything goes to hell. Sometimes it doesn't come back the way we want it. Stupidity doesn't always kill the stupid. That's the sad part about it. So we fuck and fuck and fuck, but most of it is the people too ignorant to accept the problem of overpopulation, and they just perpetuate the problem through their offspring. Then someone cleans a baby in Pinesol or some other similar product. Brilliant. You need a college degree to build a bridge, not a person.
Nick said that tact is superficial. I'd agree. If you thought of something, and you don't say it because of tact, it doesn't change the fact that you thought it. It's being considerate. So you are being superficial for sake of not offending someone? Okay, I can see that. But what if your audience isn't offended? If you know that they aren't going to be? Then fuck tact. More than fuck tact - it doesn't apply. Tact is relative. I laugh at everything, just not all the time. I can be tactful. I can be considerate. Sometimes. But usually, Fuck it.
I'm crawling up and away, into my hole in the wall. I lash and bear my teeth and I hiss like the biggest pussy. Cat. You're not taking me alive. You're not getting up inside. You're not looking me in the eye. You're not taking me alive. I'm stuck and afraid and self defense is killing me. It's even hard to say what it is I'm running from. I think it's me, but I can't seem to get away. Fuck me. I collapse to the floor, and everyone looks down at the mangled, lifeless, worthless me. I'm so empty.
I think I might not matter to anyone. Not that no one gives a shit at all, but I just don't think that I'm all too special in the eyes of many people. Maybe my family... they sort of have to think I'm special. That doesn't really count. What about other people? What would make me worth going out of your way? What would make it worthwhile to call me? How could I change for you to kill for my attention? I'm not going to change. I like me the way I am. I just don't understand why you don't.
So I'm at Marietta on my day off. Can't get enough of college. Hmm... joke? Actually I'm visiting Annie. I'm writing this from her dorm room. I asked her why girls take so long to get ready. I said that she didn't need makeup. I know it doesn't really matter - she won't listen. No one does. The way I see it... put on a minimal amount of makeup normally if you want to... then go all out every once in a while, for a special occasion. People should love you for personality, anyhow. But, then again, what do I know?
It's not hard for someone to look in the mirror and see that they're ugly - physically ugly. They turn away and shudder, shiver... undone by their lack of aesthetic value. But what of those people who are ugly inside? Do they realize it? Do they ever think "Wow, I'm a horrible person and I hate myself"? If it is so easy to see the ugliness hanging on a skeleton, why does the scrutiny stop there so often? I'm frustrated by this. It really hurts people's perception of so many others. Not everyone is the same inside as out. Including me.
I got voted "most childish" in my senior yearbook. That's so funny. I think about how all the people that don't really know me wrote down my name and thought "he'll never grow up." I laugh at them every day. And then I vomit. Maybe if "biggest ass" had been a superlative, they could've voted me for that. I think that's what they meant. But that isn't what it said. If anyone really thinks that I'm childish just because I can be entertained by simple things - they're too into themselves and too into "being mature." That's NOT what life's about.
It's easy to let someone make you feel a certain way. Some people make me feel like I'm the shelter they seek, others make me believe that I'm a paintchip on the wall... not at all unique from the next square inch. So what makes my worth so relative? I'm me and that's that. Sometimes I'm comfortable because I'm accepting, sometimes because I'm hardly there at all. If I assume that it's all trivial, then does that mean that I am trivial? Well... that sort of makes sense in the big picture. It's far too big for anyone - especially me.
It doesn't feel so much like I skipped class today and yesterday, it just felt like it was still part of my long weekend. It was nice to blow it off for a little bit. But now I have to get back into everything. I have homework that's due tomorrow - a lot of it. I have a ton of homework due friday, too. So I'll have my work cut out for me the next few days. It would all be a little easier if I had someone here with me. I'm making quite a few friends, but I'm still needing.
A mirror, a jewel case, a pencil and and a half-empty bottle of water that just doesn't seem quite half-full. A remote, a razor, a watch, and a document claiming that I'm missing at least one other document in my file. Fight Club, a telephone, envelopes, and the disposable camera that I got when I moved in. Surge protector, blank CDs, a candom, and an empty Frappuccino bottle from breakfast. A pack of blank paper, chewing gum, a mouse, and a highlighter that looks like a mouse - my sister thought it was clever. My desk, my counter, not even mine.
It's so hard to know what to think, what to do. I can't tell what you think - I can hardly tell what I do. I don't know what I need anymore. I need something, though, someone. With what and who are answers that evade me. I only wish that someone would tell me what it is and then give it to me. Show me where I am and what I want and who I need. Show me what I can give and do and think to allow myself to smile. I'm so needy but I want so badly to give.
What if I don't see what you do? What if I don't think what you think I should, or see the same thing you do? I'm just a silly little dreamer. I just laugh and smile and it's okay. I don't know what's going on. Tell me where I am, and then define me, flip me upside down and we're on common ground. I can't feel without you telling me how. This isn't my life, it's in your world now. I'm so down and out, up and out, over this. Don't tell me how because I know that I'm wrong.
Blue skies turn purple grey. I am running home today. I'm so far. No one to call mine. Just act like it's all fine. I'm so far. The planes fly overhead. The blackened sky falls over dead. Clocks stop and speakers burst, computers melt and I was here first. Thoughts crumble and buildings fall, the sun goes out and I run from it all. I'm so far. Cell phones and pretty pictures, blinking lights and CDs blank like me. I'm so far. Microsoft and Starbucks and Sony and Dreamworks Productions. Nokia and Crest and I can't breathe. I'm so far.
Free time is a necessity. I couldn't survive without it. I love being able to "waste" time. But I think I'd die if I was 100 percent effecient. I think I'd give in, give out, give up. It's hard enough sometimes even with free time - because free time sometimes plays tricks on me, makes me think I'm alone. And maybe I am, in a way. But maybe I can deal with it. Or maybe I can change it. Maybe I don't need anyone. Maybe I only need me, or maybe someone else needs me and they'll realize that soon enough.
I watch your lips move but I'm static, captured by -- I couldn't say. I watch your eyes but I'm just thinking you don't even see me. I'm invisible -- but you stand out in my world. Don't crush me that way. So I admit here that I am weak and vulnerable. I know I could live without you -- I already have for such a long time. It's just a matter of preference. I can't help but waver and be lukewarm sometimes. Maybe that's because I don't always know who you are. I don't know where you are. Just from time to time.
Happy birthday. To me. And by happy, I mean... not so happy. And by me, I mean... me. Happy birthday to me, and that's how it goes. It's petty anyhow. It's the first one away from home. Not only that, it's the first one away from everyone who truly gives a shit. I wouldn't have it any other way, though. It had to happen sometime. I have to grow up, out, away. That's the path of life. Unless you want to be a middle-aged (reborn) virgin living with your parents. And to that, I reply with a resounding "Fuck, no."
To exist is not enough. Everything occupies space and time, and you have to earn that right. I'm not a Boondock Saint, I'm not Hitler or Stalin, but you should reach out sometime. If you don't love, if you don't care, if you don't feel, then why are you here? You are just an obstacle in the lives of people who want, and who need. Don't be an empty shell of a human being. Don't try to convince us all that you don't care. You share this world with 6 billion people, and no one can get back what you fuck up.
It's not worth it - I'm too fucking tired. I can be lazy, I can give in to my desires tonight. I can buckle, I can crumble, and I might not be quite as content with myself, but it will be made up for in cheap, gratifying sleep and wasted time. Fuck the calculus homework. Fuck going to recitation tomorrow. And you know why? Because I can. Because I got a 97 on the exam and I am going to fall back on that to keep my grades up. But I need to be smarter on future occasions -- push myself forward.
If the sky broke and we all fell from the black hole of our minds, all night, we might be better off now then if we just sit and stare at stars so motionless. To us they are. And the rivers sweep at the roads so weak and the sky weeps what we all seek. Set your worlds in motion. Tidal swells engulf the earth and bring us back to the place that we belong. Just hold on to an errant piece of vinyl siding. Computers stop and everything is just a blur and a buzz. We're all in motion.
Boredom is awfully destructive. Well, I guess that it is more accurate to say that destruction is an all-too-effective means of curing bordom. Huge pole... ten, maybe twelve feet long, propping the laundry room door shut. Rip off part of the bulletin board. Move cars so they can't get out of their parking spaces (unless they hit the neighboring BMW), take doors off their hinges - with hammers - at 5 in the morning - while people around you are trying to sleep. Metal on metal is NOT quiet. Run. Laugh. Wait until they go back to sleep. Do it again.
I got up at 3 PM today. Not all that bad. 8 hours of sleep (thanks to the extra hour from daylight savings). Went to bed at 8:15 (technically 7:15, but your body definately doesn't get an extra hour of energy just because you change the clocks). Now it's 11:30. I still haven't done any work. I have to write a paper, do my physics homework, and write my 100 words entries. Well, at least I'm getting one of those things done. Hopefully the other two assignments go by quickly, because I don't want to be dead in class tomorrow.
I wonder what people really think sometimes, but everything points in different directions. I'm the type of person that makes you turn on your away message, I'm the type of person that makes you turn it off. I'm the type of person that makes you lock your door. I'm the type you invite over for dinner. I'm the type that you ask for help, I'm the type that you don't ask my opinion on that perfume, but I noticed it as you walked on by - I was taken. I'm the type of person that sits in a room thinking about it.
I shudder, sitting in my room - dressed in white. A chill down my spine. My fan is on high. "Walk into the jaws of hell." I type away my thoughts and feelings. Exorcize my demons. It's like vomiting. Sometimes it hurts coming out, but I'm always glad I did it. Being honest is easy when you're talking to someone else. But when it's just me... I want to hide behind a lie. I want to make no sense, I want to be random and avoid addressing anything that matters. I look back later and forget what I was hiding.
I hate that everything in life is a trade. I have to give up one thing for another. It pisses me off because I want it all. I want to go do something, and still get a full night's sleep. I've not really been sleeping lately, so I'm thinking that I should forget about the fun for tonight. I've done enough. But I don't want to stop moving. I want to have fun. I can always sleep tomorrow afternoon. But I won't. I can always sleep tomorrow night. But I won't. I can always sleep later. I can do everything.
Sometimes music keeps me company, and I look out the window to the lights from the city. I'm not sure where I'm heading but I can just know where I am... arguably. I am alone with thoughts and feelings but they're drowning me. I guess this is what people are running from so often. This feeling that is so empty. They drink to fill them up. I've not drank for that reason, but I think that if I had some 151 right now... I would. Call me pathetic, it's okay. I probably am, but it'd be easier. But I'm sober.
Hotels at Psi U. Again. Didn't skip a drink... or Beirut. I got drunk. I still raped everyone at Halo. Don't fucking ask me how. I was in much worse shape than them. I wrecked them all, though. Then to Denny's - Greasy food. Yum. Steve called the "ma'am" a "sir." I told him he was drunk. I bet she wished she was. Even when I woke up I was buzzing - and I'd lost my voice... temporarily - enough water cured that. Being buzzed and exhausted is the same as being drunk. I was better by the time my mom saw me.
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