The Realization of Fear
The trouble with this journal thing is that it is so damn revealing. This is were I'm supposed to be open and pour out all that I hold back. Yet, even here I hold onto certain things... I mean anyone could read this on here and what unimaginable horror would ensue if I wrote everything that I thought about, and no I really don't think that highly of myself... that my friends was sarcasm.
Over the last few months I had pretty much given my heart to a certain girl and to put it metaphorically she would rip out my heart, then proceed to put it back in, sew it up and then rip it out again over and over again, sometimes adding a little salt to the wound just for kicks. Pain really isn't the word for it... I only pray that it is finally over... and that my heart is not infected from being ripped out and exposed to the elements so many times.
Everyone tells me, the right girl is out there for me and I've honestly grown to hate it when people tell me that. It's just like they don't know what else to say and they don't want to call me a socially inept moron. The truth is that I do have trouble meeting women. Not so much meeting them, or even talking to them, but the part about showing romantic intentions without being completely obvious and transparent. I have no part of my brain that tells me then a woman is interested in me, so I always just assume they aren't. Brilliant strategy, eh?
(*sighs, then looks confused and frustrated, then I awkwardly try to change the subject*)
Last week was Thanksgiving which is shocking news, no doubt. It was so average and uneventful there aren't words to describe the dullness or it all. I did play football with some friends over the weekend though, it was like the first time in years that someone's called me to go play a backyard sport, and it was great. I didn't make any touchdowns or stupendous plays but it felt good being out in the cold, running in the snow, pushing people in the mud, I actually didn't play too bad at all. There was one thing that happened that day which really sucked, I got a speeding ticked when I was on my way to the game... going 65 in a 45. The cop was coming the other way and actually stopped and turned around to follow me, so obviously I must have been the most worthy use of police time, such a dangerous criminal that I am... even though there was no one else on the freaking road and it hadn't even begun to snow yet. It's so embarrassing getting a ticket, you have to pull over and then wait as the guy takes his good time getting out of his car and moseying over and then of course explaining to me what had happened like I didn't know or something. "Oh really? I was going that fast... that's pretty good for this car, it actually gets better mileage when it goes that fast." that's what I felt like saying... but instead I just grovelled something about how I'd never been given a warning and if this time could just be a warning. He apparently had no sympathy or sense of humor at all. If I had the resources and a more mischievous nature I would like nothing more than to deliver a flaming bag of shit to that cop's front porch. That's actually an extremely horrible idea, it's just the the thought of it that's funny to me.
That's about all I feel like talking about in my life right now, I am going to be starting a fictional story as part of my journal from now on however. In addition to my ramblings and musing my next entry will begin a story about a teen-aged boy, not unlike myself when I was a little younger, although this will not be autobiographical, just merely a story for my own amusement. I hope that no one actually wastes their valuable time reading it, but if anyone does I would greatly appreciate any comments or thoughts about it.
...and that's it for now, fun time is over
Over the last few months I had pretty much given my heart to a certain girl and to put it metaphorically she would rip out my heart, then proceed to put it back in, sew it up and then rip it out again over and over again, sometimes adding a little salt to the wound just for kicks. Pain really isn't the word for it... I only pray that it is finally over... and that my heart is not infected from being ripped out and exposed to the elements so many times.
Everyone tells me, the right girl is out there for me and I've honestly grown to hate it when people tell me that. It's just like they don't know what else to say and they don't want to call me a socially inept moron. The truth is that I do have trouble meeting women. Not so much meeting them, or even talking to them, but the part about showing romantic intentions without being completely obvious and transparent. I have no part of my brain that tells me then a woman is interested in me, so I always just assume they aren't. Brilliant strategy, eh?
(*sighs, then looks confused and frustrated, then I awkwardly try to change the subject*)
Last week was Thanksgiving which is shocking news, no doubt. It was so average and uneventful there aren't words to describe the dullness or it all. I did play football with some friends over the weekend though, it was like the first time in years that someone's called me to go play a backyard sport, and it was great. I didn't make any touchdowns or stupendous plays but it felt good being out in the cold, running in the snow, pushing people in the mud, I actually didn't play too bad at all. There was one thing that happened that day which really sucked, I got a speeding ticked when I was on my way to the game... going 65 in a 45. The cop was coming the other way and actually stopped and turned around to follow me, so obviously I must have been the most worthy use of police time, such a dangerous criminal that I am... even though there was no one else on the freaking road and it hadn't even begun to snow yet. It's so embarrassing getting a ticket, you have to pull over and then wait as the guy takes his good time getting out of his car and moseying over and then of course explaining to me what had happened like I didn't know or something. "Oh really? I was going that fast... that's pretty good for this car, it actually gets better mileage when it goes that fast." that's what I felt like saying... but instead I just grovelled something about how I'd never been given a warning and if this time could just be a warning. He apparently had no sympathy or sense of humor at all. If I had the resources and a more mischievous nature I would like nothing more than to deliver a flaming bag of shit to that cop's front porch. That's actually an extremely horrible idea, it's just the the thought of it that's funny to me.
That's about all I feel like talking about in my life right now, I am going to be starting a fictional story as part of my journal from now on however. In addition to my ramblings and musing my next entry will begin a story about a teen-aged boy, not unlike myself when I was a little younger, although this will not be autobiographical, just merely a story for my own amusement. I hope that no one actually wastes their valuable time reading it, but if anyone does I would greatly appreciate any comments or thoughts about it.
...and that's it for now, fun time is over