Alone in a crowded room.
October 26, 2010 § Leave a comment
Well, it’s 3:18am. I am cold, need a cigarette and I’m alone. My best friend lives across town. A few of my close friends live just up the block. But it’s 3:20am, and besides they have better things to do then listen to young man through a haze of smoke. I need a drink…I don’t need one, I want one. Really bad. I’ve started going to church again. That is a good thing. I am excited. But I am still alone. Well, not really but I feel like it. What causes people to become ass holes. To forget the things others have done for them. I wish I had more time. Time for what. Photography, life, design, laughter, food, my family, my friends. I am but a blip on a screen of a thousand characters to all of you. I matter no more to most of you then the crumpled up shirt in the corner of you’re room. Don’t tell yourself that I am interesting. Maybe I am. When people look at me what do they see. A tattered man who forgets who is from time to time maybe. Or maybe they see a boy wishing he were a man. Or maybe you think I am a child screaming for attention. I am, in a way I suppose. Prove to me that I am not right about people. Maybe I am just bitter, to many shitty experiences with cocky arrogant assholes who think it’s ok to walk over other people. Screw all of you who have made me what I am. Afraid to trust, afraid to love, and afraid to risk. I refuse to run anymore. There are so many things that I wish I could say. I would love to watch you cry. So maybe I can feel some form of empathy for you….but that probably wouldn’t happen. I won’t help anymore. Lesson learned.
When did I become such a skeez bag. A creation a vowed never to become. I guess I learned how to hurt again. It’s been 4 years since I’ve played games with the human heart. 2 and a half years I have been in fortitude. Now I am finally curious again, I am willing to break some more hearts. Make a few girls cry. Why? because that’s all I know how to do right now. That is stupid. Why am I thinking about that. That is not the role of a man. A heart is not a child’s toy. It is the key to the soul. I should know this. Then why am I acting this way. Insecurities? probably. How do I remedy this. Grow up. I suppose so. It seems more simple then it really is. Grow a beard and be somebody. What would my dad say. He’d shake his head and say “God knows everything you do”. That is exactly what he’d say. Awesome. I love my dad.
My room is a pretty accurate representation of my life right now. Empty cigarette boxes, staked up beer cans, a bible wedge between “The Watchmen” and “Lamb”. My cloths are strewn all across the floor and my bed is just as chaotic. Somehow I have found a way to exist here. I own to much. To much useless shit. I swear to much. It’s a habit I picked up from going on tour along with smoking…and drinking. Well, that’s weird. Bad things do come in three’s I suppose. I need to go get my ankle operated on again. That’s going to suck.
School is hard. Harder then I thought it was going to be. So many assignments. Each requiring way to much attention. Almost no room for a social life. I guess I could look at it this way. It’s going to be hard to get my heart broken this way. 40 hours of school a week and probably about 15 hours of homework a week. Possibly more. Ya more. I’d say about 25 hours. Some weeks. I like design, correction, I love design.
I’m becoming broke. People owe me money. This is a very stressful combination. Nothing worse then knowing there should be money in the bank but it hasn’t arrived yet. It’s like sitting at an intersection waiting for the light to turn green….when you’re the only car at the intersection. Imagine…just sitting there. Oh and the car won’t move until the light turns green. Oh and you can’t turn around. Ya, I’ve been waiting for a while. It’s very taxing you know. Just sitting here, waiting. Very hard to be honest. Open. Why? Because I feel like a jerk every time I bring it up. Because to me I feel like that’s all I talk about. But it’s probably because it is. The elephant in the room has gotten so huge that it’s starting to break the walls and corner me. I can’t feel my feet. I’ve been doing this for a while. I’ll probably get yelled at for a few things I’ve written tonight. But to be honest. I don’t care. A blog is not something you have to read. Nor do you need to. It’s something you chose to read.