Popular Mechanics
It's important to write this here, in my old journal. It applies not only to the recent version of my perceived self, but also to the person I once was, the person who brought me where I am today.
Only through the reflections of a mind overwhelmed, have I realized how necessary the "some what dramatic" events of my recent life have been.
I no longer live in a foreign household and I am essentially no longer part of a foreign organization. I've been pretending without understanding that I was doing just that: pretending.
This is why it's been so hard to merge and assimilate because I've come to understand I never truly wanted to. I thought it was my niche, but I never really paid attention. I was swept away with familiarity, and confused it with what I believed was belonging.
Only through the actions of others does it seem possible for me to release myself from the box I have personally constructed.
Everytime I hear another story I feel further and further from the people I once desperately thought I wanted to feel close to.
But,
I am not those people and, no matter how hard I try to be, I don't want to be.
Three years of pretending with pretenders.
It's easy to loose sight when you pretend you can't see. It's all loose and figurative, but it weighs just as much in meaning as my "Through the Ages" textbook does in pounds. ( I am so excited about that.)
And this is all okay, and okay... and okay. If you don't understand this or care, it's okay because you don't have to. And if it's poorly written it's okay because I have the rest of my life to become a better writer or to ignore it completely. It's all just so goddamn peachy and okay because it's just highschool and this doesn't have to be so serious. I can't even rent a car to drive someplace else.
Good news though, I am not dreading senior year. It's going to be different from the others, for obvious reasons, but so drop dead exciting.
I am clearer today to everyone because I am no longer trying to be be someone else. It's quite simple.
Truth be told, I am actually an art kid.
Only through the reflections of a mind overwhelmed, have I realized how necessary the "some what dramatic" events of my recent life have been.
I no longer live in a foreign household and I am essentially no longer part of a foreign organization. I've been pretending without understanding that I was doing just that: pretending.
This is why it's been so hard to merge and assimilate because I've come to understand I never truly wanted to. I thought it was my niche, but I never really paid attention. I was swept away with familiarity, and confused it with what I believed was belonging.
Only through the actions of others does it seem possible for me to release myself from the box I have personally constructed.
Everytime I hear another story I feel further and further from the people I once desperately thought I wanted to feel close to.
But,
I am not those people and, no matter how hard I try to be, I don't want to be.
Three years of pretending with pretenders.
It's easy to loose sight when you pretend you can't see. It's all loose and figurative, but it weighs just as much in meaning as my "Through the Ages" textbook does in pounds. ( I am so excited about that.)
And this is all okay, and okay... and okay. If you don't understand this or care, it's okay because you don't have to. And if it's poorly written it's okay because I have the rest of my life to become a better writer or to ignore it completely. It's all just so goddamn peachy and okay because it's just highschool and this doesn't have to be so serious. I can't even rent a car to drive someplace else.
Good news though, I am not dreading senior year. It's going to be different from the others, for obvious reasons, but so drop dead exciting.
I am clearer today to everyone because I am no longer trying to be be someone else. It's quite simple.
Truth be told, I am actually an art kid.