(no subject)
"Colloquialisms can't deny
You're a swell or clever guy."
I've missed myself. I've missed something. I've missed everything. I'm somewhere in the adult world, but then again, I've been here the entire time - now I'm just existing as an official instead of being scooted under the table and behind opening doors. I'm missing my chances, dammit! And I'm sorry for being so fucking esoteric about everything. I'm really sorry about everything.
These past months have been hectic to say the least. I'm back in California again after big family warfare in NC. I'm still a housebreaker, and I'm still black sheep. And I'm still fucking going over Adam's death and Ryan's institutionalizaton and my loss of friendship over stupid fucking things - and then I remember that "Oh fucking right, you're Skirball - people only want fucking sex out of you." Then I say it sucks to be fucking beautiful. The last painting I made was called Starstruck, and it featured Marilyn Monroe with stars spearingher eyes, and the blood rolling down her cheeks. I almost feel like that, only on small scale. And fuck has it that I won't die yet.
I could scream, too. If only I wasn't deflowered or whatever - I wouldn't be so easily virtued, and I'd definitely be that meek boy in the corner. I fucking liked being timid. No, I stopped going by my middle name and started using my true first name, despite the constant provocation and heckling. I miss the fucking companionship I had when I was a sophomore. I had Ryan and everyone was right there - they were all fucking okay...
This entry is stupid.
Why the fuck talk to a livejournal if it's just all empty, hollow air? I don't even fucking hear an echo... but then again, the suggestion of an echo only makes the bleakness more vast and alone.. and here I am, bleak, vast, and alone. Fuck! With all that attention I get, you'd fucking think I'd be happy for once....
What the fuck is wrong with people that they just can't fucking be happy?
I swear, i must be 58 years old... not 18...
Help Help Help
You're a swell or clever guy."
I've missed myself. I've missed something. I've missed everything. I'm somewhere in the adult world, but then again, I've been here the entire time - now I'm just existing as an official instead of being scooted under the table and behind opening doors. I'm missing my chances, dammit! And I'm sorry for being so fucking esoteric about everything. I'm really sorry about everything.
These past months have been hectic to say the least. I'm back in California again after big family warfare in NC. I'm still a housebreaker, and I'm still black sheep. And I'm still fucking going over Adam's death and Ryan's institutionalizaton and my loss of friendship over stupid fucking things - and then I remember that "Oh fucking right, you're Skirball - people only want fucking sex out of you." Then I say it sucks to be fucking beautiful. The last painting I made was called Starstruck, and it featured Marilyn Monroe with stars spearingher eyes, and the blood rolling down her cheeks. I almost feel like that, only on small scale. And fuck has it that I won't die yet.
I could scream, too. If only I wasn't deflowered or whatever - I wouldn't be so easily virtued, and I'd definitely be that meek boy in the corner. I fucking liked being timid. No, I stopped going by my middle name and started using my true first name, despite the constant provocation and heckling. I miss the fucking companionship I had when I was a sophomore. I had Ryan and everyone was right there - they were all fucking okay...
This entry is stupid.
Why the fuck talk to a livejournal if it's just all empty, hollow air? I don't even fucking hear an echo... but then again, the suggestion of an echo only makes the bleakness more vast and alone.. and here I am, bleak, vast, and alone. Fuck! With all that attention I get, you'd fucking think I'd be happy for once....
What the fuck is wrong with people that they just can't fucking be happy?
I swear, i must be 58 years old... not 18...
Help Help Help