(no subject)
I tried to get in contact with somebody recently. I've begun to prefer to pretend that we never had met. The situation, when examined up close, just makes me feel far too sick and depressed to actually consider as a reality. I wish there could be a gesture more dramatic than an opening paragraph LJ. But you know who you are. I'm fairly convinced you can't offer me one ounce of hope either, so have fun with the new shit and all.
Other than that, things have been fairly splendid. I play guitar, read, and listen to records. I work too, but fuck work and let's not think of it. No TV or internet at my apartment, and I'll delay getting the latter as long as possible, and the former just sucks anyway. I get on facebook and I get depressed. I don't want the thinking it employs to get me down. Or at least the thinking it employs in me.
I have a lot of demons to conquer and I'm set on conquering them. I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself when there are people out there that I consider and enjoy quite often. Life has been interesting because it's been such an up and down affair, never taking happiness or sadness for granted. Incredibly unclear things appear but I'm not getting discouraged by it like I used to. Shame has entered my life 18 years late and I'm just rebounding from a world that I veiled to myself just because I thought being a child meant ignoring it. It's more complicated than that. But ever since like February, I have had a dark cloud following me, making me feel guilty, anxious, and ashamed. But this, too, shall pass, but with effort. With concentrated, well-placed, soul wrenching, effort, it shall. I'm visiting my parents right now and jonesin' for a smoke and achin to be in my supremely luxurious bachelor pad, bereft of furniture yet suprisingly cozy.
The night before I left for the apartment I thought about death and feared it till it made me sick. I think that might've been a turning point. I am at odds with time. Sometimes I have far too much and sometimes I have far too little, never enough time. A war of the spirit. I ache for the past because through nostaligia's eyes I only see what I sense. The full load of thinking only occurs as it's happening, therefore this moment is the richest one ever. Memory serves the present. I can guarantee I've never been in love before because I know not what it is but what it is not.
My friends that are true are just that. They know that to know somebody is as tough as game as it is to be somebody. My fingers are still so clumsy on the guitar and I haven't really found a voice as a songwriter yet, but it never was supposed to be easy, and my resolve only gets thicker. I'm tired of being a big ole loser, or at least a big ole loser compared to what I wanna become. I would call it ambition, but it seems for like survival. Dying with enough time.
Other than that, things have been fairly splendid. I play guitar, read, and listen to records. I work too, but fuck work and let's not think of it. No TV or internet at my apartment, and I'll delay getting the latter as long as possible, and the former just sucks anyway. I get on facebook and I get depressed. I don't want the thinking it employs to get me down. Or at least the thinking it employs in me.
I have a lot of demons to conquer and I'm set on conquering them. I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself when there are people out there that I consider and enjoy quite often. Life has been interesting because it's been such an up and down affair, never taking happiness or sadness for granted. Incredibly unclear things appear but I'm not getting discouraged by it like I used to. Shame has entered my life 18 years late and I'm just rebounding from a world that I veiled to myself just because I thought being a child meant ignoring it. It's more complicated than that. But ever since like February, I have had a dark cloud following me, making me feel guilty, anxious, and ashamed. But this, too, shall pass, but with effort. With concentrated, well-placed, soul wrenching, effort, it shall. I'm visiting my parents right now and jonesin' for a smoke and achin to be in my supremely luxurious bachelor pad, bereft of furniture yet suprisingly cozy.
The night before I left for the apartment I thought about death and feared it till it made me sick. I think that might've been a turning point. I am at odds with time. Sometimes I have far too much and sometimes I have far too little, never enough time. A war of the spirit. I ache for the past because through nostaligia's eyes I only see what I sense. The full load of thinking only occurs as it's happening, therefore this moment is the richest one ever. Memory serves the present. I can guarantee I've never been in love before because I know not what it is but what it is not.
My friends that are true are just that. They know that to know somebody is as tough as game as it is to be somebody. My fingers are still so clumsy on the guitar and I haven't really found a voice as a songwriter yet, but it never was supposed to be easy, and my resolve only gets thicker. I'm tired of being a big ole loser, or at least a big ole loser compared to what I wanna become. I would call it ambition, but it seems for like survival. Dying with enough time.