Tired

I am confused. I am exhausted. I am lost.

We had a basketball game last night. Didn't know about it until shortly before, but I had already broken out a new bottle of Skyy. Trying to play after drinking doesn't really work. I didn't play terrible, but (not to sound conceited) without me as a threat, no one else could really get open. We lost by thirty. I don't even want to talk about it. We have to play again on Wednesday, and if it goes anything like the last one, I may quit. No one else is even trying. Brad does, but he's lost his shooting. The other guys won't listen when Brad or I coach them, and we're the only ones who have ever played before. It's a little aggravating.

Been a little carefree lately. It's improved some things. I still worry though. And get frustrated. And fret. I think it's getting better, but "I'm still depressed as hell by all the goddam phonies in the world." That's my Holden Caulfield. Reread 'Catcher in the Rye' (obviously, maybe), which I hadn't read since eighth grade. I don't think I understood it at all back then. I'm definitely the Holden Caulfield type, I hate to admit. At least at the end he recognizes he misses people. I just seem to ruin things.

Had two tests today. One I was ready for, one I was not. Math is ridiculously simple, I only had trouble with one problem, but I'm pretty good at lucky guessing and coming up with the right answer. Due to that, I was able to work my way backwards and figure out how to do it the right way. Oh well. It was slightly satisfying. Biology is not my friend. I'm not understanding it, mostly because I genuinely don't care. If it works inside the body, it works. I can't see it, but obviously I'm alive, so who gives two fucks WHY I am?

Contemplated some strange things in geography for some reason today. Found something happy to distract me for a while. But mostly, I'm just as exhausted as hell. Can't hardly think straight. Oh, before we went to practice basketball tonight, Brad and I put another sign on some dude's door. This one said 'Fudgepacking Convention, please RSVP for the party here with four knocks - Bring your own nuts.' I got a kick out of that.

Basically, I don't know what I'm saying, I was just writing to write. Not so bad, eh? Ha. I wasn't expecting to write more than one sentence. I'm feeling quite alone, but I'm still not going to talk to anyone. Shit, I really am Holden Caulfield. I should change that somehow. I'm off to bed, I think, even though I slept all day. I don't know what's wrong with me. One minute I can't ever sleep, and the next it's all I do.

I dream of a trip to Chernobyl, and Moscow, and a backpacking adventure in the Urals to see the Auroras. Then perhaps a nice train ride to London if I survive to settle down for a while. That would be a cool place to live. Just go with the flow for a bit. I could give up on the world, Henry David Thoreau style. It would be nice. I hope in a few years I'll be more able to do it.

Numb

The capacity to feel pain is gone. The feeling of being overwhelmed is constant. What does he want? He knows. But he will always lie. Who is he? Now that is the question, for he does not know himself. To put it in other words, he fills his own cup, and he is happy. However, when he depends on others to fill it with happiness for him, the collective evil steals the good and fills him with the shit. Selfish fuckers. He lets them fill it up, sees it is not happiness and dumps it out, but then has his error when he extends his cup again. He needs to fill it by himself, with the happiness that he chooses, but he must first figure out who he is. What is happiness? It is fulfillment. It is a by-product, like motivation is a by-product of success. It doesn't make sense to him either, but he accepts it because he respects the teacher more than anyone else in the world. He lied about how he felt, of course. He wants more than he says, and he knows it is no secret. He lied about not feeling hurt, because the comments he heard have hurt him more than he has ever felt before. The pain he experiences is the only way he's sure it's not a dream. He chuckles to himself. Some part of his brain was concerned with the Nirvana Fallacy, his unending quest for his 'magic bullet.' The chuckle comes from the semi-suicidal notion that any ordinary bullet could be the actual 'magic bullet,' because that would end it. He dismisses the thought because it is foolish. He surrounds himself with lies, and liars, and untruths. No one knows who he truly is, as is his wish, so no one knows how to hurt him. This in turn hurts him more, however, because he has forgotten who he is as well. He relies on others to remind him, but they fill his cup with shit time and time again. He apologizes because he can't think of anything else to do. He's not the one to apologize, and he knows it. But there is nothing else to do. He knows there will be better. He feels it. He recognizes the intangibility of knowing what it will look like, so he clings to the notion of the impossible. It's a familiar strategy, he took it from his own cup. Someone gave it to him, misunderstanding that it's not shit. Happiness is overrated, and he knows it. Emotions escape, numbness overtakes.

Don't Cry Out

Just some things that have been on my mind in regards to some people...

I have lost my inhibitions. How I've treated you the last few times I've been with you is how it should have been all along. I truly am sorry for the past. I hope you can forgive me and let it go, and things go back to how we left them. I still regret not giving you a chance, my reasons were not stellar. I didn't think you wanted me. I could talk all day about you, there's so much to like. When you're overwhelmed it can be a little tough, but I don't think it's as bad as you make it sound sometimes. You just need help.

I have genuine feelings for you. I don't know how or why, but I think you are amazing, I always have. You'll never read this, but it's true nonetheless, and maybe true more-so because you won't see this. I think about you a lot, the way I used to see you, how you've trusted me, and how close we are. I'm extremely glad I still have you. I want to make you feel absolutely on top of the world, and I think I could do it. I was absolutely overjoyed by your late-night text the other day. You are the only person I would even think about answering what you asked totally truthfully.

Oh boy. We weren't really friends until this last year, in fact, you hated me in fourth grade (haha). But what a great year for it. You're great. You help me see the positives in people, and you point out the negatives. Although I can get frustrated, there's no one better to talk through problems with. I don't help you as much as I should, but I wish I did. You make me feel better, and sometimes even like I'm a positive. Rarely do you say anything that I don't take to heart. I love the things you're interested in, and you are great at giving advice. Thank you.

I like you a lot. You have been great. We have so many overlapping interests. I hope I don't ever mess you up. I know you're probably discouraged by a lot I have done, but I really like you, so I hope it's not too bad. The talks we have are interesting and deep because we are honest, and there is no agenda.

You're a funny case. Too weird? Impossible, I like weird. But there's something different about you. Insincerity? Maybe, but I honestly don't think so. I really wouldn't know, though. My opinion of you changes a lot, but I think we could be great friends, eventually. I don't try to destroy everything good all the time, we just have different viewpoints. I wish you would see mine for a little bit, without it ruining you. You probably will never accept the bad parts, but I do wish you could hear me when I ask for help. Also, you make me feel very good about myself.

I don't know what to think of you. Sometimes you act like I'm some amazing person, and sometimes you make me feel like shit. I used to like you a little, but now I don't think I do. I just don't care enough to play your retarded game. We'll still have class, but you just don't get it.

Who are you? You seem so perfect, but I know that's not possible. Plus I only just met you, you're a virtual stranger. Everything you said when we talked rang true, however, and that is a rare quality. I don't think I'd be wrong to judge you as a great person, I mean, you defended rainy days as awesome, and who can argue with that? I sincerely hope I get over my shyness and get to know you. You seem like a much more together version of an introvert like me, except you also manage to have a lot of friends.

Home is Wherever

I finally feel at home in Denton. If it wasn't so fucking expensive to eat, I would feel at home AND not hungry. I only eat one meal a day to save, but when that meal is four cheeseburgers, nuggets, fries, and three feed, I'm not really sure I saved anything. In fact, I think I spent a little more than I would have. Whatever. I'm sick of the cold hearts. I know I'm one to talk, but seriously. Oh well. Met some new people, Ashley forces me to. She also forces me to take all of her trash because she's too lazy to get her own tray, but that's separate. She's become pretty cool, I guess. She's sorta the closest thing I have to a friend up here on weekends, but, whatever. I designed cars all day, only leaving my room once (and barely even dressed) to go to McDoland's. Not important. Neither is the cars thing. I don't know why I've been doing that. So lame, when you think about it.

Emotionally, other people kind of annoy me right now. There are those who are over-aggressive, never listening and always mentioning things that kill the conversation, so they can start a new one wherever it is they so please. Then, there are the "semi's." People who are almost as non-committal as I tend to be. I mean, if I want something, I want it. And if I don't know, then it's totally up in the air. But these people are those that act like they want something desperately, and then do everything to deny themselves it. I'm sorry, I'm sure this is extremely confusing. And of course, there are the people who live far away. These are the hardest, because they are the ones with real problems who I really care about, but I can't do anything about it.

Final point: Life's a bitch, and then you die. I'm not completely positive about that, but it seems like a sure bet. I know for certain that for people born in the 19th century, there's almost a 100% mortality rate, although half of the people who have ever been alive are alive today. Mind blowing. Wow, can anyone say off topic?

I don't know what I want. There are so many things to do, but so little that can be done. What happened to how we used to talk? I wish I could do something to help any one of three or four people, but I am totally useless.

I am rambling randomly, so this is as good a place as anything for my 'aha' moment. The song 'O Valencia' by the Decemberists has been stuck in my head recently, I really like some of the lyrics. After mentally reciting them, I realized it's Romeo and Juliet. How odd not to have realized that before. Whatever. Also stuck in the head right now, Lessons Learned by Matt & Kim, Out of Gas, and Missed the Boat by Modest Mouse. I do not know why this is relevant, but again, shouldn't I be used to this? I dunno. Not physically writing anything in my journal is hurting my coherence. Fuck it. I'm done for the night. I hope tomorrow is great, but I set no expectations. (Nec Spe, Nec Metu and all, y'know?)

Dream

Short and sweet. I had a dream about you the other night. You were riding in your car. Your friend was driving. I was riding in another car, and we passed you. As I stared out my window I saw you curled up on your seat, and you looked sad and lonely and lost. I pulled out my phone to call you, but the numbers I dialed wouldn't make sense. And then I had passed you already, and I was leaving you behind, and it made me sad to think about it.

I don't want this to happen.

Catch 22

I've been meaning to read that book.

How is it possible? If I say what I want to, I make everyone mad. If I say what everyone wants me to, everyone gets mad anyways. I've done it before. Why should I repeat it? I usually don't say anything. It's the fucking Nirvana Fallacy. There is either a right answer, or there is no answer at all, so I will do nothing. But sometimes, saying nothing is just as bad as not answering, I know. Almost nothing's changed. You would get angry, you did last time. Never mind that. When I say I don't know something, I genuinely don't know it. It's not like I spend my time plotting about how to piss off everyone who I care about.

There's something else, although it isn't related at all. Then again, when is anything I write ever coherent? The point I was trying to make in this paragraph was that I never have a point. In everything I write it seems like I keep wandering, always missing my "point." "But that's off topic," or "that wasn't the point." What the hell? Why do I seem convinced I have a point? I thought about that after the last post. I said it was pointless. I'm pretty sure it was (hint: they pretty much all are). But, I'm also pretty sure I said I missed my point in it.

Whatever, this is terrible. I can't think straight, and I am tired. Everything is all fucked up.

I Can't Win

I can already tell whoever cares that this is going to be a pointless post. I promise. It doesn't offend me if you just stop reading right now, because I'm just going to ramble. It'll tell about yesterday, and why I'm so fucking mad, but this is no earth shattering post. I swear. I'm winging it.

So yesterday, I was pretty damn mad, or upset. I don't really know which. Anyways, I finally got sick of my parents' house, so I took off for Denton at three in the afternoon. My mother force fed me chili before I went, despite the knowledge that I absolutely despise spicy (I would rather go hungry). I drove up to Denton with no stops and no problems, and finally felt at home. I love it up here. I'm not that far away, but emotionally, it's forever of a distance. Later on, I decided to send a message to a girl I hadn't talked to in quite a long time, being brutally honest about how I felt. She initially took it quite well, but then her problems arose. I remembered everything, and she was extremely doubtful that I had meant what I said. I definitely did, but I don't blame her for not believing me. The last I had talked to her, things were quite different. I mean, I have thought about it so much since it happened. Basically, I totally abandoned her. Not gonna lie, it was mostly in self-interest. But it wasn't because she wasn't absolutely amazing. It was because if I hadn't, I wouldn't feel right about it. So, I guess that's a little off-topic, although there isn't really a topic, so the out-of-place statement is this one... Whatever. Yesterday we talked until about eight o'clock, before I learned how upset she was. I didn't know what to do, so I drove out to her. For the few hours I had just holding her and talking about nothing in particular, I felt so good. I mean, I had hurt this girl more than she ever deserved, although I didn't mean to, and to get the chance to lay down in her bed with her was great. At twelve-thirty I left, with the promise that I wasn't leaving for a year again. I will be going back, I know. I got home in Denton (again) at around three in the morning. I had driven almost two hundred miles in one day. Every mile was worth it. Every solitary, music-filled, monotonous mile was worth it. I felt good. Driving itself had felt good. But most of all, I felt good because - only for a brief second - I remembered that there are other people in the world worth caring about. It was like a breath of fresh air. What a relief.

I suppose I really like driving. Only if I'm by myself, though. And nothing beats driving on a foggy night like last night. I would look out to my left, and see grass seamlessly blending into the stars above. Indistinguishable. I would look out to my right, and see the same thing. Looking straight ahead, I could see the dashed-white lines screaming past me, but I could only see one, or two lines ahead. I was in a silent bubble. Moving through the incredible void swiftly, but alone. There were no towns, there were no lights, there was nothing in any direction. Only the giant moon on my right, my music, and the road directly ahead.

I was shocked back into life when my alarm went off three hours later. Too early. My throat felt like I had eaten nothing but sandpaper, and my head was a cacophony of explosions, beautifully orchestrated to the pulse of my blood in my veins. Lovely day to die. I asked Brad if he would sign into our class for me, and he agreed, so I turned over and waited for oblivion to overtake me. Unfortunately, I was not to be so lucky. Today, as it so happens, has not been a happy day. The euphoria from the previous night wearing off, I settled back into reality. And my own fucked-up existence. First contact with the outside world for the new week, which I had struggled to avoid, was not exactly pleasant. It may have been good intentioned, but I don't really think so. Then I heard from her. She seemed happy, apparently. It was nice to know the last night hadn't been a cruel dream. Third, I heard from Ksenia, who I haven't talked to in years and years, since the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in high-school, to be exact. Nothing much there, just checking up, I suppose.

I am a very honest person. I tell you straight up what I think, and that is all. I do tend to want to please, so I will try to cushion the bad things, but I'm still going to tell you exactly what's wrong with you. I have tried that before. It was unappreciated. In fact, it was hated. I've never been so down. So now when I get asked the same question, and I know the answer hasn't changed much, why am I going to choose to relive the hell? I am not. At least, not right now. I hate this so much. When I am honest, it is under-appreciated. When I care, even though no one else will, it goes unnoticed. But when it's not me, for whatever reason, it's bliss. I'm beginning to think I'm alone. Someone needs to tell me it's worth it, even if it isn't. I'm done not caring, but now I've offended everyone possible. How can I care again without re-offending everyone? Besides, does it even matter? I'm starting to doubt it. I'd hate to see it leave, with everything I am, I would. But what ever changes?

See, I told you this meant nothing. If you've read this far (and not shot yourself - or me, for that matter) you should probably consult a professional. I'm sure I've ruined your life in some way as well.