Keep your head down, go to sleep.
Life is changing. I'm trying so desperately hard to hold on to what has been, while looking to reach out and take hold of what is ahead of me, and pull them together into a giant mess of what makes me incredibly happy.
But of course, one of the most important lessons, the one lesson that 12 , 16, 20 years of school won't teach you?
How to let go.
Michael you're a genius, and you know it.
I don't, I only know that I care.
I've got so much faith in you.
This is the longest I've gone without talking to you, even if you deeply upset me.
You and me both, pal.
Son, when you turn eighteen, you're an adult. Things are really going to loosen up around here. It won't be any more of you asking permission, more of just letting us know where you'll be. I don't to think about you getting up and leaving and never coming back.
Dad, you realize that in two months we'll be smoking one of those together.
You're still an intense subject in my life, truth be told. You will get to where you need to go. You need to believe in yourself. I told you already that I have faith because you care. You have the brains, the talent, the heart and soul to take yourself to where your dreams and reality collide into some massively beautiful, fulfilling, chaotic, catastrophy that is everyday life for all of us that choose to open our lives and truly live it. I've always been proud of the things you do; the things you accomplish, the strength of character you have, whether you believe it or not. So please, don't worry about tomorrow. Get there one step at a time. Don't forget any of today because you were too caught up in worrying about tomorrow. I mean it.
It's such a small world, michael.
Why did I make my name tag say Michael? Doh.
I'm coming home, Hobbes.
Please god, come home soon.
cute.
(Is it really?)
When I say what I'm thinking
Right.
I feel less and less like I want to talk to people about how I feel when I finally decide to get honest. Mostly because I feel like every time I start to get down underneath the skin, people stop taking me seriously. I distanced myself from all the people that understood that what I said about my feelings were legitimate, and that what I felt about life was a lot different, a lot deeper and a lot less...coordinated? than one might guess. I'm so fucking aware of how incompetent I am these days that it's left me desperate. I'm just not getting it all done. And some of you love me for who I am and who I've become and don't hate me for all of the shit I've been through to get this far.
And some of you hate me for the steps I've taken, and will never forgive me and never understand because I was foolish, I've been foolish, and I have failed. A lot. I never failed before; I never accepted failure. I let others fail me because I knew that depending on anyone other than myself was a gamble- I had never had reason to depend on anything, because I had the intangibles, the infinitely faithful. The sun will rise each morning, set each night. The rain will fall, sometimes it will turn to snow in the cold. The stars will be out at night, and the moon will look different every night.
Why do I want to be a teacher? I've given everyone all of the surface reasons, the legitimate, yet not-quite-under-the-surface reasons for pushing myself to this purpose. But the truth comes when I think about how badly I want my brothers to succeed. When I think about how hard I try to push myself to success, how much I wish I could have tried harder, how much I wish I could have learned more, how strongly I believe that by being involved with andrew, he will find confidence in himself and he will become such an impressive, outstanding person that I will someday envy him in every way.
I want to be able to give that to everyone. I want to be able to see someone's eyes light up when I watch them learn, watch them process and succeed. I want everyone to know how fucking special, how incredibly unique, and how infinitely talented they are, if they just give themselves a chance. My greatest fear for Andrew is that he will got to school and not accept himself. He already knows himself very well; he knows how he is, he realizes how he is different; he realizes that he is still so damn smart. He knows, like I did at his age, that when he blurts out what he's thinking, people don't fucking get it.
I used to talk so fucking much. I could take a topic that my teacher brought up, something that he/she would leave up to interperetation, and I could go on forever. I can remember the times that I've spent talking to someone that I care about regarding how I feel; what's on my mind. I never get anything back- half the time they don't know what to say, or what I have to say makes them feel awkward. I guess it's my fault for wanting so much- I don't expect people to get it because no one is half as crazy as I am. That's why I have this stupid journal- so I can write it all out when I'm drug-induced and hope that I don't say something to hurt someone's feelings that I'll get shit for the next morning. Why? Because any other time I feel like talking too much just leads to people wanting to talk to me less.
And I'm going to have to kick that habit, and stop being afraid of what other people don't like about what I have to say.
As they put it best:
I hate to break this to you but being a coward is not a legitimate career.
But of course, one of the most important lessons, the one lesson that 12 , 16, 20 years of school won't teach you?
How to let go.
Michael you're a genius, and you know it.
I don't, I only know that I care.
I've got so much faith in you.
This is the longest I've gone without talking to you, even if you deeply upset me.
You and me both, pal.
Son, when you turn eighteen, you're an adult. Things are really going to loosen up around here. It won't be any more of you asking permission, more of just letting us know where you'll be. I don't to think about you getting up and leaving and never coming back.
Dad, you realize that in two months we'll be smoking one of those together.
You're still an intense subject in my life, truth be told. You will get to where you need to go. You need to believe in yourself. I told you already that I have faith because you care. You have the brains, the talent, the heart and soul to take yourself to where your dreams and reality collide into some massively beautiful, fulfilling, chaotic, catastrophy that is everyday life for all of us that choose to open our lives and truly live it. I've always been proud of the things you do; the things you accomplish, the strength of character you have, whether you believe it or not. So please, don't worry about tomorrow. Get there one step at a time. Don't forget any of today because you were too caught up in worrying about tomorrow. I mean it.
It's such a small world, michael.
Why did I make my name tag say Michael? Doh.
I'm coming home, Hobbes.
Please god, come home soon.
cute.
(Is it really?)
When I say what I'm thinking
Right.
I feel less and less like I want to talk to people about how I feel when I finally decide to get honest. Mostly because I feel like every time I start to get down underneath the skin, people stop taking me seriously. I distanced myself from all the people that understood that what I said about my feelings were legitimate, and that what I felt about life was a lot different, a lot deeper and a lot less...coordinated? than one might guess. I'm so fucking aware of how incompetent I am these days that it's left me desperate. I'm just not getting it all done. And some of you love me for who I am and who I've become and don't hate me for all of the shit I've been through to get this far.
And some of you hate me for the steps I've taken, and will never forgive me and never understand because I was foolish, I've been foolish, and I have failed. A lot. I never failed before; I never accepted failure. I let others fail me because I knew that depending on anyone other than myself was a gamble- I had never had reason to depend on anything, because I had the intangibles, the infinitely faithful. The sun will rise each morning, set each night. The rain will fall, sometimes it will turn to snow in the cold. The stars will be out at night, and the moon will look different every night.
Why do I want to be a teacher? I've given everyone all of the surface reasons, the legitimate, yet not-quite-under-the-surface reasons for pushing myself to this purpose. But the truth comes when I think about how badly I want my brothers to succeed. When I think about how hard I try to push myself to success, how much I wish I could have tried harder, how much I wish I could have learned more, how strongly I believe that by being involved with andrew, he will find confidence in himself and he will become such an impressive, outstanding person that I will someday envy him in every way.
I want to be able to give that to everyone. I want to be able to see someone's eyes light up when I watch them learn, watch them process and succeed. I want everyone to know how fucking special, how incredibly unique, and how infinitely talented they are, if they just give themselves a chance. My greatest fear for Andrew is that he will got to school and not accept himself. He already knows himself very well; he knows how he is, he realizes how he is different; he realizes that he is still so damn smart. He knows, like I did at his age, that when he blurts out what he's thinking, people don't fucking get it.
I used to talk so fucking much. I could take a topic that my teacher brought up, something that he/she would leave up to interperetation, and I could go on forever. I can remember the times that I've spent talking to someone that I care about regarding how I feel; what's on my mind. I never get anything back- half the time they don't know what to say, or what I have to say makes them feel awkward. I guess it's my fault for wanting so much- I don't expect people to get it because no one is half as crazy as I am. That's why I have this stupid journal- so I can write it all out when I'm drug-induced and hope that I don't say something to hurt someone's feelings that I'll get shit for the next morning. Why? Because any other time I feel like talking too much just leads to people wanting to talk to me less.
And I'm going to have to kick that habit, and stop being afraid of what other people don't like about what I have to say.
As they put it best:
I hate to break this to you but being a coward is not a legitimate career.