(no subject)
Most of the time I don't like to make a big scene of my life. That may be why it hasn't completely caught on with others.
I don't know quite what I'm looking for. Most of the time I don't trust people, perhaps some don't know that about me; and most of that time I don't care about that fact. There are private times, however, when I feel desperate lonliness and frustration about it, but they mostly stay private. But really, I don't believe we are allowed full freedom to either love or hate in life. Not that we can't choose to, but because one is always tugging at the other saying "NO, BE CAREFUL."
I wish I cared about people more, I wish they cared about me more, but so goes the experiment of my individual life. The moment is fickle, but it always reflects the previous. I learn from my circumstance, and I try to keep a straight head, but that's not easy for anyone.
The experiences I tend to write about most are negative ones. For the most part, I have my fair share of happiness, peace, laughter, as well as depression and anger, and everything around and in between. To me, writing about happy, inconsequential things has less of a point, because then I really don't give a shit about venting it. I'm enjoying it in the moment and most of the time I feel like no one else needs to know, no one needs to hear it to know I'm stable or fun or happy. I'd feel like a stooge trying to prove something that can only be pure and observed. Thus my loathing of the cliche, trends, unquestioned herd-like behavior, social stunts, etc. (keep in mind, we're all hypocrites)... and thus the evil of social tactics and their possible necessity.
Many people are uprooting, leaving, pondering it. I'm one of those pondering it for myself. It will happen within the next year or two, I don't know how soon, but I will be gone for an extended period of time. But sometimes I think, usually when I'm frustrated, that I wouldn't feel as guilty about leaving as so many others. Sometimes, I really feel like I could up and leave and tell no one save my parents (cliche anyone?), so that they knew I didn't get kidnapped or killed or something. Perhaps this reflects my anxiety, characterized by fight or flight; we all know I'm a fighter, mostly verbally, and physically if given a solid reason. I suppose the journey is to become a warrior rather than a fighter. Maybe I exhibit flight behavior, or maybe that's my next course of action, maybe it turns people away, but who am I to know for sure. I'm stuck within my mind constantly, a place where it's exceptionally difficult to be objective about certain things, and unfortunately, clear/calm either. The journey is to find my own Zen stance rather than seeking so much. We all must face such journeys, whenever it is each of us wakes up. We all have attained some level of them.
Sometimes I wonder if I reveal too much to people, or too little, or maybe the wrong things in the wrong way, or the right things in the wrong way. Is venting, journaling, chatting, blogging a beneficial catharsis, or a tempting liability? Sometimes I just hit send, and gauge the danger after-the-fact by how much my stomach churns after reflecting back on it...
I don't know quite what I'm looking for. Most of the time I don't trust people, perhaps some don't know that about me; and most of that time I don't care about that fact. There are private times, however, when I feel desperate lonliness and frustration about it, but they mostly stay private. But really, I don't believe we are allowed full freedom to either love or hate in life. Not that we can't choose to, but because one is always tugging at the other saying "NO, BE CAREFUL."
I wish I cared about people more, I wish they cared about me more, but so goes the experiment of my individual life. The moment is fickle, but it always reflects the previous. I learn from my circumstance, and I try to keep a straight head, but that's not easy for anyone.
The experiences I tend to write about most are negative ones. For the most part, I have my fair share of happiness, peace, laughter, as well as depression and anger, and everything around and in between. To me, writing about happy, inconsequential things has less of a point, because then I really don't give a shit about venting it. I'm enjoying it in the moment and most of the time I feel like no one else needs to know, no one needs to hear it to know I'm stable or fun or happy. I'd feel like a stooge trying to prove something that can only be pure and observed. Thus my loathing of the cliche, trends, unquestioned herd-like behavior, social stunts, etc. (keep in mind, we're all hypocrites)... and thus the evil of social tactics and their possible necessity.
Many people are uprooting, leaving, pondering it. I'm one of those pondering it for myself. It will happen within the next year or two, I don't know how soon, but I will be gone for an extended period of time. But sometimes I think, usually when I'm frustrated, that I wouldn't feel as guilty about leaving as so many others. Sometimes, I really feel like I could up and leave and tell no one save my parents (cliche anyone?), so that they knew I didn't get kidnapped or killed or something. Perhaps this reflects my anxiety, characterized by fight or flight; we all know I'm a fighter, mostly verbally, and physically if given a solid reason. I suppose the journey is to become a warrior rather than a fighter. Maybe I exhibit flight behavior, or maybe that's my next course of action, maybe it turns people away, but who am I to know for sure. I'm stuck within my mind constantly, a place where it's exceptionally difficult to be objective about certain things, and unfortunately, clear/calm either. The journey is to find my own Zen stance rather than seeking so much. We all must face such journeys, whenever it is each of us wakes up. We all have attained some level of them.
Sometimes I wonder if I reveal too much to people, or too little, or maybe the wrong things in the wrong way, or the right things in the wrong way. Is venting, journaling, chatting, blogging a beneficial catharsis, or a tempting liability? Sometimes I just hit send, and gauge the danger after-the-fact by how much my stomach churns after reflecting back on it...