Don't wait for me.
Ridiculous. I had a good day, granted. But as the night began to come to a close, I began to realize something. Or a number of things. Such as the fact that I have a bad tendency to set myself up for severe dissapointments. I do stupid things, knowing the consequences beforehand, and even with all the warnings, I still decide to go for everything I shouldn't. And I get burned. Very badly.
Why the sick pattern? I ask myself the same thing. Maybe I have like legitimate things to bitch about. Maybe I force myself in to dumbfounding amounts of drama on purpose. I probably get off on it. Who fucking knows. The point is that i'm sitting in my kitchen, and i'm listening to songs off the Igby Goes Down soundtrack (all very good, by the way), and stareing about myself like something should be happening but isn't. I know exactly what's going on right now, and I really don't like it. Time has been going excrutiatingly slow on purpose, mocking me intensely. And while i'm cold and hungry, I couldn't stand the thought of not continuing to type all of this out. To stop now would be useless.
To stop now would be useless? See, but there I go again. Because I always tell myself to stop, but never do. I have this foolish child-like notion that everything good is meant to happen to me. That I only have to be patient, because i'm ment to get what I want. And right now is not what I want.. so i'm waiting for somehting to change it. It won't change, though. It's become very evident. I'm being left to my own devices, and I want it to be over with.
What's with all the thinking? I just want what I want. And what I want is always, of course and ironically enough, what I cannot or am not supposed to have. Maybe i'm just malicious and evil and thrive on ruining everything to benefit myself. I just want to stomp on everything to get my way right now. It seems that any other way would just not work. I always try to wrok things for the better good. Patience and patience and somewhat insincere smiles and I don't know how long I can keep up with myself. And it's not just about one thing, frankly. It's about everything. This is about everything.
I don't think I understood this when I was younger. I tried to be content with what I had. I felt incapable of more. But then, I always did get what I wanted. Thing was, I was much more reasonable. I never asked for too much, and so I recieved just enough. Now I want it all, and more importantly. I want the impossible. I want what isn't mine to have. And for what, really? I never really appreciate what I have once i've gotten it. What's with the sick rush? Why do I always do this? If I ever become a psychologist, i'll surely have a field day with myself.
I feel like jumping off of a building. I don't want to die, but I want to discover some kind of immortality i've always been convinced of having. It's not right, but while my better sense tells me, yes. You are vulnerable. You will one day die. Inside, somewhere, i'm still how i've always been. Convinced i'm untouchable and unreachable. The god of my own little world, and a deity in this life. It could just be that i'm insane, but I don't doubt others have felt this way as well. How could you not feel almighty inside yourself, afterall? You command all that you do. You control it all.
So why, then, and I sitting here, frumping about? Why, then, am I sifting through these rapid thoughts, typing semi furiousely and knowing it will get me nowhere? I fail to see the logic within myself. Not that i've ever felt I was logical, anyway.
I love this kind of honesty. Now, I just wish I could tell the truth.
Why the sick pattern? I ask myself the same thing. Maybe I have like legitimate things to bitch about. Maybe I force myself in to dumbfounding amounts of drama on purpose. I probably get off on it. Who fucking knows. The point is that i'm sitting in my kitchen, and i'm listening to songs off the Igby Goes Down soundtrack (all very good, by the way), and stareing about myself like something should be happening but isn't. I know exactly what's going on right now, and I really don't like it. Time has been going excrutiatingly slow on purpose, mocking me intensely. And while i'm cold and hungry, I couldn't stand the thought of not continuing to type all of this out. To stop now would be useless.
To stop now would be useless? See, but there I go again. Because I always tell myself to stop, but never do. I have this foolish child-like notion that everything good is meant to happen to me. That I only have to be patient, because i'm ment to get what I want. And right now is not what I want.. so i'm waiting for somehting to change it. It won't change, though. It's become very evident. I'm being left to my own devices, and I want it to be over with.
What's with all the thinking? I just want what I want. And what I want is always, of course and ironically enough, what I cannot or am not supposed to have. Maybe i'm just malicious and evil and thrive on ruining everything to benefit myself. I just want to stomp on everything to get my way right now. It seems that any other way would just not work. I always try to wrok things for the better good. Patience and patience and somewhat insincere smiles and I don't know how long I can keep up with myself. And it's not just about one thing, frankly. It's about everything. This is about everything.
I don't think I understood this when I was younger. I tried to be content with what I had. I felt incapable of more. But then, I always did get what I wanted. Thing was, I was much more reasonable. I never asked for too much, and so I recieved just enough. Now I want it all, and more importantly. I want the impossible. I want what isn't mine to have. And for what, really? I never really appreciate what I have once i've gotten it. What's with the sick rush? Why do I always do this? If I ever become a psychologist, i'll surely have a field day with myself.
I feel like jumping off of a building. I don't want to die, but I want to discover some kind of immortality i've always been convinced of having. It's not right, but while my better sense tells me, yes. You are vulnerable. You will one day die. Inside, somewhere, i'm still how i've always been. Convinced i'm untouchable and unreachable. The god of my own little world, and a deity in this life. It could just be that i'm insane, but I don't doubt others have felt this way as well. How could you not feel almighty inside yourself, afterall? You command all that you do. You control it all.
So why, then, and I sitting here, frumping about? Why, then, am I sifting through these rapid thoughts, typing semi furiousely and knowing it will get me nowhere? I fail to see the logic within myself. Not that i've ever felt I was logical, anyway.
I love this kind of honesty. Now, I just wish I could tell the truth.