stream of consciousness-- but don't worry i'm going to a counselor
the world is bullshit, i mean honestly. i guess i could go into a semi existentialist holden caufield-esque sermon, or i could just go the political route and blame it on republican domination but it all boils down to the fact that i'm depressed. i'm underappreciated. to my peers and most adults (mainly conservatives, ha) i'm weird. i've been having a lot of thoughts, i guess feelings, lately. feelings that i'm going to die young. not now, not 18 young, bt perhaps 20-25 years from now young. i see obituaries that speak of a soul displaced in a world that didn't understand. i, the little tiny dot in the big ball of gloom, that's earth. you are here --> athens, ga. you are sometimes here --> louisville, ky. are you happy in either? well...no, not exactly. who am i kidding? resounding no. would i be happy anywhere else besides several infeasible options-- ole andy's right hand man in The Warhol Factory, Lou Reed's New York muse (i have a vagina-- immediate disadvantage), Wes Anderson's arms...hell, i'd probably end up dissappointed. There's always some cynical angle to take on everything, some negative light to shine on a situation. and i always find it.
sometimes i really don't mean to. or want to. but other times i wonder if i do. some inner sadomasochistic urge inside me. or perhaps a fear of being happy. how sad. but i've never experienced complete happiness. ever. i've thought i had but then at a later date i realize certain elements that i had percieved as 'joy inducing' were in fact mistaken. maybe i feel incomplete without a mild hint of misery. a twinge. i can go from happy to hopelessly depressed in 1.2 seconds flat. seriously. all it takes is the memory of something happy (keep in mind i haven't yet realized the actually non-joy-inducing element a fore mentioned) that is no longer left of my pathetic existance. or i'll just compare what's making me happy to what's causing the smile on the face of the girl across the room and then i'll realize that my happiness probably pales in comparison to her's. suddenly i lose grasp of what caused my grin, what motivated me to pull my ass off the couch and the chain smoking to get up and shake my hips to the music...
...and maybe, if i've actually maanged to reach such a state of ingorance-- giggle.
suddenly this cause is completely lost on me. my happiness has no substance, no base. it is...fraudulent. and its at times like this that i retract back into the most idiotic of adolescent tendencies. its ugly. the already horrific posture worsens. the self conscious arms folded across the chest come into position. and worst of all-- the wrinkled nose/forehead. sasha says the tension causes headaches...
and although i don't want to leave-- absolute avid fear of missing social events, constand dread that i will miss not necessarily a spectacular event, but even a comment, an eye contact, or that someone will not realize i'm missing. of course i have no way of even knowing this particular fact but just the mere thought of its occurance makes my neck hair stand on end. but anyways, i'll seize the opportunity to pout about something stupid, like how i don't have a car. this is no one's fault. i mean in the long trun gas money, wanting to get drunk with no responsibilities, and my less than stellar driving skills would ultimately lead me to the conclusion that in the grand scheme of things owning a car at college would be far more stressful and cause even further anguish. but at that moment i decide that having a car to drive home at that very moment would assure that i'd hit the pillow that night feeling content. and perhaps every night after that. so, i don't actually have a car or want one or would have the balls to leave the social gathering or even know why i want to leave in the first place...my logic is completely skewed no matter which way you look at it. not to mention, on a whole new level i am completely aware of how fucked up this entire mental dilemma is, which makes me feel terrible as well. although this is all most likely jumbled to you, because it is somewhat to even me at this point, it seems to be getting at a metaphor for my life.
i've had a lot of headaches lately.
i think what i'm trying to say is that i'm always reveling in moments of despair. i can't allow happiness for even remotely long amounts of time before i grow unexplainably solemn. i'll never besure why i was happy or why i became sad, but for some reason the sadness seems more real, more grounded in reality. even if i attribute it to something lacking in my life that in the long run i don't even actually want. in fact, this desire isn't relevant to anything and even when i realize these things i still perisist. why is pain so much more sustainable? why, even when i see the complete error and dislogic in my ways does it not do a damn bit of good? but even my pain, when it reaches such melodramatic extents, it starts feeling just as fraudulent as the happiness. are my emotions real? do i exist at all?
sometimes i really don't mean to. or want to. but other times i wonder if i do. some inner sadomasochistic urge inside me. or perhaps a fear of being happy. how sad. but i've never experienced complete happiness. ever. i've thought i had but then at a later date i realize certain elements that i had percieved as 'joy inducing' were in fact mistaken. maybe i feel incomplete without a mild hint of misery. a twinge. i can go from happy to hopelessly depressed in 1.2 seconds flat. seriously. all it takes is the memory of something happy (keep in mind i haven't yet realized the actually non-joy-inducing element a fore mentioned) that is no longer left of my pathetic existance. or i'll just compare what's making me happy to what's causing the smile on the face of the girl across the room and then i'll realize that my happiness probably pales in comparison to her's. suddenly i lose grasp of what caused my grin, what motivated me to pull my ass off the couch and the chain smoking to get up and shake my hips to the music...
...and maybe, if i've actually maanged to reach such a state of ingorance-- giggle.
suddenly this cause is completely lost on me. my happiness has no substance, no base. it is...fraudulent. and its at times like this that i retract back into the most idiotic of adolescent tendencies. its ugly. the already horrific posture worsens. the self conscious arms folded across the chest come into position. and worst of all-- the wrinkled nose/forehead. sasha says the tension causes headaches...
and although i don't want to leave-- absolute avid fear of missing social events, constand dread that i will miss not necessarily a spectacular event, but even a comment, an eye contact, or that someone will not realize i'm missing. of course i have no way of even knowing this particular fact but just the mere thought of its occurance makes my neck hair stand on end. but anyways, i'll seize the opportunity to pout about something stupid, like how i don't have a car. this is no one's fault. i mean in the long trun gas money, wanting to get drunk with no responsibilities, and my less than stellar driving skills would ultimately lead me to the conclusion that in the grand scheme of things owning a car at college would be far more stressful and cause even further anguish. but at that moment i decide that having a car to drive home at that very moment would assure that i'd hit the pillow that night feeling content. and perhaps every night after that. so, i don't actually have a car or want one or would have the balls to leave the social gathering or even know why i want to leave in the first place...my logic is completely skewed no matter which way you look at it. not to mention, on a whole new level i am completely aware of how fucked up this entire mental dilemma is, which makes me feel terrible as well. although this is all most likely jumbled to you, because it is somewhat to even me at this point, it seems to be getting at a metaphor for my life.
i've had a lot of headaches lately.
i think what i'm trying to say is that i'm always reveling in moments of despair. i can't allow happiness for even remotely long amounts of time before i grow unexplainably solemn. i'll never besure why i was happy or why i became sad, but for some reason the sadness seems more real, more grounded in reality. even if i attribute it to something lacking in my life that in the long run i don't even actually want. in fact, this desire isn't relevant to anything and even when i realize these things i still perisist. why is pain so much more sustainable? why, even when i see the complete error and dislogic in my ways does it not do a damn bit of good? but even my pain, when it reaches such melodramatic extents, it starts feeling just as fraudulent as the happiness. are my emotions real? do i exist at all?