a lot of thinking today
i'm really tired of trying to figure everyone else out. why is this person depressed, why does this person never call, why does this person have so many more friends?
there are two recurring things i think about (especially the first):
1. (no matter how icky sicky cliched it sounds) someone out there has it worse. that usually talks me off the ledge. i like to imagine that if heaven/hell exists, it's reiterated on earth as a sort-of halfway sentence. very similar to karma. people with real shit lives are living out their own version of hell for previous wrongs to their lives. after all, how fucking fair is it for me to be living in absolute happiness when there are people having to dig through trash to find food? or when they can't fall asleep at night, for fear they'll be shot in the head? that's not random- that CAN'T be random. otherwise, the world really is a cruel, horrible place. and then i'll feel even worse about being so self-obsessive and greedy, and not really doing much to further anyone's existence but my own.
-i think sometimes about dropping all (even my cds) and joining the peacecorps/becoming an environmentalist that doesn't sleep/opening a home for children with nowhere else to go/opening a home for dogs with nowhere else to go. i know, one person can occasionally make a difference. and i'm sure i could. but life is too safe...i feel okay. my guilt isn't overwhelming me, it's only overtaking me at some points in my life. i figure if this is how my genetically-inherited depression is running its course in my body, i'm fine with that. guilt is manageable, i can............
only do things for me.
2. i'm important. i am. if only you knew what it's like to be inside of my head, thinking my thoughts, feeling my emotions, understanding why i do and say everything. there's nothing like finding that you've split in two, and one side is completely in love with the other, but the other is so far away that i'll only find it once something happens to change me.
-but i can't help it. can i? what would i be like if i planted trees on the weekend? if i adopted four dogs (not necessarily brussels-griffons)? if i sold everything i owned. moved to...somewhere else. went out every night of the week, didn't ever eat, only spent money on everything else all of these fucking idiots surrounding me do (alcohol), lived like the 20 year olds do. all the others. what if i just stopped trying, and assimilated to everything?
ow ow ow ow owwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!! too many thoughts!! either it's funny (in the daylight) or it's really wretched (when you're at home, at night, about to fall asleep, thinking about all your dark things. i know, i do it too.)
my mom used to stay up really late at night, watching movies. i'd watch about half with her, then get tired and go up to bed. i could always hear the sound of the tv from the other room while i was trying to fall asleep- and now everytime that happens, i feel like i'm 10 again. there is time-travel solved.
and my dad used to come home, wearing his suits (i never knew why his job made him wear suits, seemed so pointless). he smelled like cigarettes and sunshine. and you know what i mean, when you hug someone who's been out in the sun for a long time, they feel warm and kind of smell like nature.
i can only remember my aunt's house when i feel cold. it makes me think of waking up underneath a warm down comforter to an empty house, and having to meander on the cold floor until someone came back.
and my grandfather- i remember those plain light blue sheets he made us put on his bed. he told me and my mom that they were hospital issue...asking me if i knew how to fold the sheet with hospital corners? i didn't, he tried to teach me. he left those sheets when he went back to germany, and i remember them appearing on my bed every now and then.
but most everything i remember is kera's house. at christmas, those polaroids. at night, on her leather couches that always stuck to my legs. her fucking futon/bunk bed thing that i hated having to sleep on the top of (i always slipped off the metal ladder with my socks on trying to go to the bathroom).
when was the last time i was there? i remember vividly a new years eve...2000? yeah. so...no, that wasn't the last year. 2001. maybe that time i went over and she was playing softball.
it's weird to be me. most of the time i hope that there are at least 4 other (smarter, more rational) souls inside of me, waiting to breathe me advice. i always imagine that one was a great writer that never reached her full potential, hoping to reach it through me.
there are two recurring things i think about (especially the first):
1. (no matter how icky sicky cliched it sounds) someone out there has it worse. that usually talks me off the ledge. i like to imagine that if heaven/hell exists, it's reiterated on earth as a sort-of halfway sentence. very similar to karma. people with real shit lives are living out their own version of hell for previous wrongs to their lives. after all, how fucking fair is it for me to be living in absolute happiness when there are people having to dig through trash to find food? or when they can't fall asleep at night, for fear they'll be shot in the head? that's not random- that CAN'T be random. otherwise, the world really is a cruel, horrible place. and then i'll feel even worse about being so self-obsessive and greedy, and not really doing much to further anyone's existence but my own.
-i think sometimes about dropping all (even my cds) and joining the peacecorps/becoming an environmentalist that doesn't sleep/opening a home for children with nowhere else to go/opening a home for dogs with nowhere else to go. i know, one person can occasionally make a difference. and i'm sure i could. but life is too safe...i feel okay. my guilt isn't overwhelming me, it's only overtaking me at some points in my life. i figure if this is how my genetically-inherited depression is running its course in my body, i'm fine with that. guilt is manageable, i can............
only do things for me.
2. i'm important. i am. if only you knew what it's like to be inside of my head, thinking my thoughts, feeling my emotions, understanding why i do and say everything. there's nothing like finding that you've split in two, and one side is completely in love with the other, but the other is so far away that i'll only find it once something happens to change me.
-but i can't help it. can i? what would i be like if i planted trees on the weekend? if i adopted four dogs (not necessarily brussels-griffons)? if i sold everything i owned. moved to...somewhere else. went out every night of the week, didn't ever eat, only spent money on everything else all of these fucking idiots surrounding me do (alcohol), lived like the 20 year olds do. all the others. what if i just stopped trying, and assimilated to everything?
ow ow ow ow owwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!! too many thoughts!! either it's funny (in the daylight) or it's really wretched (when you're at home, at night, about to fall asleep, thinking about all your dark things. i know, i do it too.)
my mom used to stay up really late at night, watching movies. i'd watch about half with her, then get tired and go up to bed. i could always hear the sound of the tv from the other room while i was trying to fall asleep- and now everytime that happens, i feel like i'm 10 again. there is time-travel solved.
and my dad used to come home, wearing his suits (i never knew why his job made him wear suits, seemed so pointless). he smelled like cigarettes and sunshine. and you know what i mean, when you hug someone who's been out in the sun for a long time, they feel warm and kind of smell like nature.
i can only remember my aunt's house when i feel cold. it makes me think of waking up underneath a warm down comforter to an empty house, and having to meander on the cold floor until someone came back.
and my grandfather- i remember those plain light blue sheets he made us put on his bed. he told me and my mom that they were hospital issue...asking me if i knew how to fold the sheet with hospital corners? i didn't, he tried to teach me. he left those sheets when he went back to germany, and i remember them appearing on my bed every now and then.
but most everything i remember is kera's house. at christmas, those polaroids. at night, on her leather couches that always stuck to my legs. her fucking futon/bunk bed thing that i hated having to sleep on the top of (i always slipped off the metal ladder with my socks on trying to go to the bathroom).
when was the last time i was there? i remember vividly a new years eve...2000? yeah. so...no, that wasn't the last year. 2001. maybe that time i went over and she was playing softball.
it's weird to be me. most of the time i hope that there are at least 4 other (smarter, more rational) souls inside of me, waiting to breathe me advice. i always imagine that one was a great writer that never reached her full potential, hoping to reach it through me.