The twenty-something failure.
Tonight became another in a series of long, cold showers. The summer heat is settling into my muscles and turning my skin a rosy pink that disgusts me. Is this what it's like to be twenty? Simultaneously trying to live like an adult and being too fucking broke to move out of your parents house. Taking to secret rendevous underneath the sheets with your doors locked, and showering in the only bathroom while other people walk in to use the toilet (one of my hugest pet peeves). A lot of people do it because it's easy, because it's cheaper. I do it because there's no option.. this is where I'm stuck, not where I belong, it never has been.
The fact is, where do you go when you've never belonged anywhere? I'm too much of a concoction of mixed backgrounds, diverse influences, likes and dislikes to ever feel totally comfortable anywhere. The fact is, the only person I felt completely comfortable around... who let me in her fucked up world and who I let into my fucked up world, was Christie. That kind of security was ripped out from under me long before she stopped talking to me, and I guess it was only a matter of time. Now everywhere I go, everyone I'm around, every person I meet, I always feel like I'm imposing on the edges of something I'm not really a part of. I've got nothing to call my own.
The past couple of days have been excruciating. Lots of crazy, awesome things have been going on, but the luster of everything seems to fade so much quicker these days. When left to my own devices, I find flaws in everything. I find out what I did wrong and what I could've done differently. I get pissed off at myself for being too closed off or too open at all the wrong times. Everyone who I've ever cared for has left me. Everyone I've ever worked hard to love, to look past flaws that frustrate me beyond belief, pushes me away. From my Father all the way up to Christie, it's been a trail of deaths and people running away. I've never felt comfortable with anyone's place in my life, or my place in anyone else's life because I've never had the option to. I've tried to allow everyone to be able to count on me, because I always felt like I couldn't count on anyone.
Does everyone really care this little? Or is everyone just pretending, putting on a stone face? Doing things to undermine themselves and to keep others away from them? I can't say I'm not guilty of the same. I'm trying not to, though. I'm trying very hard not to react badly to everything bad that has happened to me, and I'm trying to keep an open mind and heart. But, in a world that's constantly tearing those two particular assets to shreds, how long can the people who do cling to the idea of keeping open minds and hearts continue to exist? How long before all of us all ripped to pieces?
I feel like I'm a failure at being a twenty something. I'm a failure at the art of casual flings and fly by night friendships. I'm a failure because I always start to care. It's just who I am, and it's possibly my biggest flaw. I bitch about it all the time, I know. But there's also very few people who've kept their word, and continued to care back.
Agh, I'm sick of bitching about this shit. Everytime I start I get the urge to tear the pages out of my notebooks, I get the urge to rip the paper into tiny little bits and set them on fire.
Nevertheless, it's time for some catharsis. I think I'll turn on a Joy Division record, stand naked in front of the mirror and hate myself for a while. I've always been good at doing that, and besides, it'll pass. I'll be back to feeling not-ugly, not-unloveable, and not-unfriendable. But, I wont believe in it, because hope always gets trampled on, and I've been searching for the cracks of light for a long time. I'm just hoping the whole world hasn't collapsed in on the light once and for all.
(Ugh, the depressiveness of that entry, really, uh, well, depresses me. Sorry about that.)
The fact is, where do you go when you've never belonged anywhere? I'm too much of a concoction of mixed backgrounds, diverse influences, likes and dislikes to ever feel totally comfortable anywhere. The fact is, the only person I felt completely comfortable around... who let me in her fucked up world and who I let into my fucked up world, was Christie. That kind of security was ripped out from under me long before she stopped talking to me, and I guess it was only a matter of time. Now everywhere I go, everyone I'm around, every person I meet, I always feel like I'm imposing on the edges of something I'm not really a part of. I've got nothing to call my own.
The past couple of days have been excruciating. Lots of crazy, awesome things have been going on, but the luster of everything seems to fade so much quicker these days. When left to my own devices, I find flaws in everything. I find out what I did wrong and what I could've done differently. I get pissed off at myself for being too closed off or too open at all the wrong times. Everyone who I've ever cared for has left me. Everyone I've ever worked hard to love, to look past flaws that frustrate me beyond belief, pushes me away. From my Father all the way up to Christie, it's been a trail of deaths and people running away. I've never felt comfortable with anyone's place in my life, or my place in anyone else's life because I've never had the option to. I've tried to allow everyone to be able to count on me, because I always felt like I couldn't count on anyone.
Does everyone really care this little? Or is everyone just pretending, putting on a stone face? Doing things to undermine themselves and to keep others away from them? I can't say I'm not guilty of the same. I'm trying not to, though. I'm trying very hard not to react badly to everything bad that has happened to me, and I'm trying to keep an open mind and heart. But, in a world that's constantly tearing those two particular assets to shreds, how long can the people who do cling to the idea of keeping open minds and hearts continue to exist? How long before all of us all ripped to pieces?
I feel like I'm a failure at being a twenty something. I'm a failure at the art of casual flings and fly by night friendships. I'm a failure because I always start to care. It's just who I am, and it's possibly my biggest flaw. I bitch about it all the time, I know. But there's also very few people who've kept their word, and continued to care back.
Agh, I'm sick of bitching about this shit. Everytime I start I get the urge to tear the pages out of my notebooks, I get the urge to rip the paper into tiny little bits and set them on fire.
Nevertheless, it's time for some catharsis. I think I'll turn on a Joy Division record, stand naked in front of the mirror and hate myself for a while. I've always been good at doing that, and besides, it'll pass. I'll be back to feeling not-ugly, not-unloveable, and not-unfriendable. But, I wont believe in it, because hope always gets trampled on, and I've been searching for the cracks of light for a long time. I'm just hoping the whole world hasn't collapsed in on the light once and for all.
(Ugh, the depressiveness of that entry, really, uh, well, depresses me. Sorry about that.)