I hate jumping to rash conclusions...
but I seem to have a sort of reclusiveness that kicks in every now and then when I'm around people. It's not consistent, it's not frequent, but everyone now and then there comes this overwhelming urge to be alone. If you haven't already guessed I'm feeling this right now. I was out with people, I love being out with people, then suddenly it hit me. Maybe it was being smashed in the face with the harsh reality that human perception boils down into a series of harsh judgements and rash conclusions. The movie I saw tonight, Crash, shows just how ugly the true faces of people are, just how prone we all are to judgement. We've all been judge, we all judge, it's a fact of life, as unfortunate as it may be. I guess it made me paranoid. Hearing what the characters in this movie really think about one another frightened me. I have always been afraid, afraid of the truth. Afraid to know what people really think about me, because it may just be exactly what this movie portrayed.
I guess I should call myself "emo", or "trendy" and write the stereotypical babbble that people claim to be their lives. As much as I'm sure people doubt it, what I write are truly my thoughts and if they make me "emo" I guess I have to live with the way things are. I get depressed, I'm a human being, we all do. I have flashes of it, there's no sort of medical problem with me, I just get these phases. I tend to want to seperate myself from crowds, I become incredible reserved in public areas, and I search for a place to be alone and formulate my thoughts. I know that there's no serious condition in this, and I do not, nor shall I ever, write this for sympathy. I consider my journal expressionism as it's finest, my innermost thoughts poured onto a page. Sometimes I wonder if I should make these private. I have to censor certain aspects of my life due to the publicity and problems it may cause those whom my mind seems to deem it necessary to include in such rants as this one. However, there is something be said for being out in the public, knowing that people judge your writing and though I'm sure I've been lied to upon many occassion, I tend to receive positive feedback. However, I digress from my original feelings.
I'm worried right now. Worried that perhaps I no longer have that comfort that I had this past summer. I had people that whenever I needed I could turn to them with my innermost thoughts, these people have been reduced to phone calls, and it is not the same. I think this has been compounded with all sorts of other wacky and illogical fears/concerns I constantly seem to create. Each day I undergo a series of conversations in my mind, much like my writing style. There are no question, the only ones that exist are rhetorical, and there is only one speaker myself. Put me in a room and I will talk out a problem as though I had a listener, which I do, I listen to myself. What is thought anyways? Really thought is merely a spoken form of writing. The problem is presented and answered in hopes of reaching a rational conclusions that will inspire some sort of effect that will change the current scenario for the better. However, I can only do so much for myself. We all need someone, I have come to realize I do not allow people to become that close to me for fear of bothering them with my trivial and minute queries. Those who have become truly close to me, only they will truly understand. Some may think they are close, but they honestly have no idea. My mind is a sort of labyrinth, tough to navigate, unique at every turn, and filled with all sorts of obstacles.
I think I want to visit back home, but then again I'm sure that's been made apparent on several occassions. It would be nice to have a taste of what my summer was like again, and refresh it so I can bring that sense of comfort back here with me. I live in two worlds right now, and I suppose my biggest fear is losing parts of one in order to compensate for the growth of the other. Call me sentimental, I suppose it's true. However, part of me also believes that I should be accustomed to this. I am ever changing, I am ammorphous in the sense that you will never truly be able to label me. Each time you try I will reveal a new aspect that blows apart your conception of me. I am close to what one could call a modern day renaissance man, not to sound conceded, simply a matter of fact. I pride myself on my ability to grow attachment to all fields, never settle into one mold; but rather, steal a piece and create my own out of the fragments.
I am amazed at the tangents that I touch upon whenever I write. For those of you who think it's confusing, this is what it's like to live inside my head. I will start on one notion and end up on another planet. And change topic again, I miss mike and lindsey so much. They truly made my summer wonderful and I can't wait to see them again. I need to see them again and I'm going to make that a goal of mine in the upcoming weeks. By thanksgiving at the latest, this will be done. On another note it's getting to be that time again, that birthday time. This year will be interesting for me. I will not be in a set location, I suppose it'll just be the same thing it always is, save last year's little fiasco (still can't believe you guys pulled that off). I'll be transition, but I suppose that sort of suits my current situation perfect. Torn between two worlds, here I am a foot on each one, struggling to bridge the two. I know the old one will eventually crumble. This is a transition period, and soon I will have to pick up the pieces that mean the most to me and run over to my new life. Guess we'll see just how that works out.
it always amazes me how much better I feel after I pour out my emotions, really people should find a comfortable way to do so, it works wonders.
I guess I should call myself "emo", or "trendy" and write the stereotypical babbble that people claim to be their lives. As much as I'm sure people doubt it, what I write are truly my thoughts and if they make me "emo" I guess I have to live with the way things are. I get depressed, I'm a human being, we all do. I have flashes of it, there's no sort of medical problem with me, I just get these phases. I tend to want to seperate myself from crowds, I become incredible reserved in public areas, and I search for a place to be alone and formulate my thoughts. I know that there's no serious condition in this, and I do not, nor shall I ever, write this for sympathy. I consider my journal expressionism as it's finest, my innermost thoughts poured onto a page. Sometimes I wonder if I should make these private. I have to censor certain aspects of my life due to the publicity and problems it may cause those whom my mind seems to deem it necessary to include in such rants as this one. However, there is something be said for being out in the public, knowing that people judge your writing and though I'm sure I've been lied to upon many occassion, I tend to receive positive feedback. However, I digress from my original feelings.
I'm worried right now. Worried that perhaps I no longer have that comfort that I had this past summer. I had people that whenever I needed I could turn to them with my innermost thoughts, these people have been reduced to phone calls, and it is not the same. I think this has been compounded with all sorts of other wacky and illogical fears/concerns I constantly seem to create. Each day I undergo a series of conversations in my mind, much like my writing style. There are no question, the only ones that exist are rhetorical, and there is only one speaker myself. Put me in a room and I will talk out a problem as though I had a listener, which I do, I listen to myself. What is thought anyways? Really thought is merely a spoken form of writing. The problem is presented and answered in hopes of reaching a rational conclusions that will inspire some sort of effect that will change the current scenario for the better. However, I can only do so much for myself. We all need someone, I have come to realize I do not allow people to become that close to me for fear of bothering them with my trivial and minute queries. Those who have become truly close to me, only they will truly understand. Some may think they are close, but they honestly have no idea. My mind is a sort of labyrinth, tough to navigate, unique at every turn, and filled with all sorts of obstacles.
I think I want to visit back home, but then again I'm sure that's been made apparent on several occassions. It would be nice to have a taste of what my summer was like again, and refresh it so I can bring that sense of comfort back here with me. I live in two worlds right now, and I suppose my biggest fear is losing parts of one in order to compensate for the growth of the other. Call me sentimental, I suppose it's true. However, part of me also believes that I should be accustomed to this. I am ever changing, I am ammorphous in the sense that you will never truly be able to label me. Each time you try I will reveal a new aspect that blows apart your conception of me. I am close to what one could call a modern day renaissance man, not to sound conceded, simply a matter of fact. I pride myself on my ability to grow attachment to all fields, never settle into one mold; but rather, steal a piece and create my own out of the fragments.
I am amazed at the tangents that I touch upon whenever I write. For those of you who think it's confusing, this is what it's like to live inside my head. I will start on one notion and end up on another planet. And change topic again, I miss mike and lindsey so much. They truly made my summer wonderful and I can't wait to see them again. I need to see them again and I'm going to make that a goal of mine in the upcoming weeks. By thanksgiving at the latest, this will be done. On another note it's getting to be that time again, that birthday time. This year will be interesting for me. I will not be in a set location, I suppose it'll just be the same thing it always is, save last year's little fiasco (still can't believe you guys pulled that off). I'll be transition, but I suppose that sort of suits my current situation perfect. Torn between two worlds, here I am a foot on each one, struggling to bridge the two. I know the old one will eventually crumble. This is a transition period, and soon I will have to pick up the pieces that mean the most to me and run over to my new life. Guess we'll see just how that works out.
it always amazes me how much better I feel after I pour out my emotions, really people should find a comfortable way to do so, it works wonders.