"... I said I'm gonna have myself in shambles..."
This is entry is going to be behind a cut, because it's long. Read if you want, but I doubt anyone actually cares what I have to say, or even reads these fucking entries.
I just don't understand the way my mind works sometimes. One minute, it has me confident and sure of myself. The next I'm scared and wondering what the fuck I'm doing. One day I love it here. The next I wonder why I left everything behind. One minute I'm happy and fulfilled. The next I miss it all, and want it all back. Some days I feel regrets. Other's I feel like the right choice was made, and that life will work itself. Some night's I enjoy myself more then anything. Others, like tonight, I feel stupid.
It's so easy to be critical of myself. It's so easy to just look in the mirror and see what I hate. To see these braces. To see these glasses. To see these blaze brown eyes and boring dark brown hair. It's so easy to see an asshole. To see someone who comes on way to strong, and who is so assertive sometimes that it turns people off. It's so easy to see someone who doesn't know what he wants. To see someone so confused about himself and his life. It's so goddamn easy to see this fuck up; this failure; this under-achiever. This honest kid, who feels like he'll never live up to his brother. Or who will never be as talented as his father.
This is what everyone else sees. The see the me that I hate. They see the girls' pants and the t-shirts. They see the braces. They see the opinionated asshole. They see the liberal. They see the defenses I put up.
No one ever sees, or is willing to see the part of me that I actually like. There are a handful of people who know this side of me. And none of them are here. No one sees the caring side of me. No one ever sees the romantic side of me. No one sees the side of me that would give anything for the people he cares about. No one sees the writer; the poet; the comic. No one is ever willing to hear the things I scream to myself. No one ever wants to hear or see these things.
I've done things I regret. I've made mistakes. I've lied. I've cheated on tests. I've stolen things. I've done what every human does: fuck up.
But who knows me? Two? Three people? If that? Is that my fault? Anyone who even remotely knows me knows that I put myself out there to almost anyone. I'm honest. I'm outgoing. People see that. They know that.
Do they know that romantic movies make me cry? Do they know that I hate the way the people are just plain cruel? Do they konw that I try and try to write music, but I never feel like it's good enough? Do they know that sometimes I just feel liek screaming at the top of my lungs just to see if people would notice me? Do they know that I no matter what people tell me, I can't ever seem to find myself attractive? Do they know that I refuse to get into a fist fight because I am afraid that I will just let go on someone? Do they know that I feel like I can never live up to what my brother has already done with his life? Do they know that I hate other guys, because all they care about is sex and pussy and drugs and alcohol? Do they know that I love doing things for people, even if they never know I did them? Do they know that ever since coming here, I've felt like I don't belong here. Or anywhere for that matter? Do they know that sometimes I just want to swerve into oncoming traffic, just to see if people would care? Do they know that I wear my heart so far down on my sleeve, that I get hurt time after time? Do they know that I am so scard that I'm going to die tomorrow, and leave nothing behind; no legacy; no memories? Do they know that I love the way the wind feels againt my face, because it's the only thing I know that lets me know that I'm alive? Do they know that everyday I'm me, I wish I was someone else? Do they know that I wish my life was a movie, so I could get the girl in the end; or save the world; or just make a goddamn difference to someone? Do they know that all I want in life is to be wanted and loved by someone? Do they know that I have one regret that I'll keep for the rest of my life? Do they know that I want so badly to just see my future, and know that things will be ok, so all of this pain can go away? Do they know that everything I get into the elevator in the morning, I wish it would just fall? Do they know that I see this world as such a fucked up place, that hold some of the most beautiful things? Do they know that I just want to treat someone like she's everything, anything, and whats in between.
Do they even want to know?
Do they even care?
In my 18 years on this planet, I've had 2 people care. Two really care about me. Two really worry about me. Two really love me.
One is my best friend.
The other is the only person I've ever loved.
All I want are those nights. I want them back. I want the romance. I want the honesty. I want the discovery. I want the connection. I want the freedom it gives me. To be myself. To push away all those fears I have about being alone for the rest of my life. I want the adventure of getting to know someone so honestly and thoroughly. I want to feel so safe with someone. I want to give someone feeling they've never had. I want to feel alive again. I want to feel 18. I want to feel like I have my whole life ahead of me. I want to feel like the cold outside actually contrasts what I feel inside. I want to let myself go, and have someone be there to listen; to care. I want to sing to someone, and have it actually mean something.
I want to put my fist through this wall just to see if it hurts.
I want to cry with my door open just to see if anyone would hear; or care.
I want to run away for a week, and see if anyone has noticed I was gone.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs.
I am honest. Caring. Open-minded. Romantic. Emotional. Smart. Funny. Scared. Confused. Outgoing. Forthcoming. Faithful. Strong. Logical. Brash. Weak. Lonley. Compassionate. Modest.
But no one ever seems to care.
No one ever seems to want to know me.
No one ever seems to be willing to.
I have so much to just... give someone. There is so much I want to give someone. But no one wants it. No one seems to want me in their lives.
People want someone to be strong; to take care of them. They don't want a caring, nice, compassionate, honest guy. They want someone who will be strong no matter what. But I can't be that. I can't be what I'm not.
I know I have my flaws. I know I'm an asshole sometimes. I know I come on too strong for some people. I know I seem like I'm full of myself. I know I can be hardheaded. I know what's wrong with me. I know I have things to work on. I know I'm not I'm not pefect.
I don't know what to say. To myself or to the world.
All I will ever know is this: I live my life with risk. I always have and I always will. I just wish someone would take a chance on me.
I just don't understand the way my mind works sometimes. One minute, it has me confident and sure of myself. The next I'm scared and wondering what the fuck I'm doing. One day I love it here. The next I wonder why I left everything behind. One minute I'm happy and fulfilled. The next I miss it all, and want it all back. Some days I feel regrets. Other's I feel like the right choice was made, and that life will work itself. Some night's I enjoy myself more then anything. Others, like tonight, I feel stupid.
It's so easy to be critical of myself. It's so easy to just look in the mirror and see what I hate. To see these braces. To see these glasses. To see these blaze brown eyes and boring dark brown hair. It's so easy to see an asshole. To see someone who comes on way to strong, and who is so assertive sometimes that it turns people off. It's so easy to see someone who doesn't know what he wants. To see someone so confused about himself and his life. It's so goddamn easy to see this fuck up; this failure; this under-achiever. This honest kid, who feels like he'll never live up to his brother. Or who will never be as talented as his father.
This is what everyone else sees. The see the me that I hate. They see the girls' pants and the t-shirts. They see the braces. They see the opinionated asshole. They see the liberal. They see the defenses I put up.
No one ever sees, or is willing to see the part of me that I actually like. There are a handful of people who know this side of me. And none of them are here. No one sees the caring side of me. No one ever sees the romantic side of me. No one sees the side of me that would give anything for the people he cares about. No one sees the writer; the poet; the comic. No one is ever willing to hear the things I scream to myself. No one ever wants to hear or see these things.
I've done things I regret. I've made mistakes. I've lied. I've cheated on tests. I've stolen things. I've done what every human does: fuck up.
But who knows me? Two? Three people? If that? Is that my fault? Anyone who even remotely knows me knows that I put myself out there to almost anyone. I'm honest. I'm outgoing. People see that. They know that.
Do they know that romantic movies make me cry? Do they know that I hate the way the people are just plain cruel? Do they konw that I try and try to write music, but I never feel like it's good enough? Do they know that sometimes I just feel liek screaming at the top of my lungs just to see if people would notice me? Do they know that I no matter what people tell me, I can't ever seem to find myself attractive? Do they know that I refuse to get into a fist fight because I am afraid that I will just let go on someone? Do they know that I feel like I can never live up to what my brother has already done with his life? Do they know that I hate other guys, because all they care about is sex and pussy and drugs and alcohol? Do they know that I love doing things for people, even if they never know I did them? Do they know that ever since coming here, I've felt like I don't belong here. Or anywhere for that matter? Do they know that sometimes I just want to swerve into oncoming traffic, just to see if people would care? Do they know that I wear my heart so far down on my sleeve, that I get hurt time after time? Do they know that I am so scard that I'm going to die tomorrow, and leave nothing behind; no legacy; no memories? Do they know that I love the way the wind feels againt my face, because it's the only thing I know that lets me know that I'm alive? Do they know that everyday I'm me, I wish I was someone else? Do they know that I wish my life was a movie, so I could get the girl in the end; or save the world; or just make a goddamn difference to someone? Do they know that all I want in life is to be wanted and loved by someone? Do they know that I have one regret that I'll keep for the rest of my life? Do they know that I want so badly to just see my future, and know that things will be ok, so all of this pain can go away? Do they know that everything I get into the elevator in the morning, I wish it would just fall? Do they know that I see this world as such a fucked up place, that hold some of the most beautiful things? Do they know that I just want to treat someone like she's everything, anything, and whats in between.
Do they even want to know?
Do they even care?
In my 18 years on this planet, I've had 2 people care. Two really care about me. Two really worry about me. Two really love me.
One is my best friend.
The other is the only person I've ever loved.
All I want are those nights. I want them back. I want the romance. I want the honesty. I want the discovery. I want the connection. I want the freedom it gives me. To be myself. To push away all those fears I have about being alone for the rest of my life. I want the adventure of getting to know someone so honestly and thoroughly. I want to feel so safe with someone. I want to give someone feeling they've never had. I want to feel alive again. I want to feel 18. I want to feel like I have my whole life ahead of me. I want to feel like the cold outside actually contrasts what I feel inside. I want to let myself go, and have someone be there to listen; to care. I want to sing to someone, and have it actually mean something.
I want to put my fist through this wall just to see if it hurts.
I want to cry with my door open just to see if anyone would hear; or care.
I want to run away for a week, and see if anyone has noticed I was gone.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs.
I am honest. Caring. Open-minded. Romantic. Emotional. Smart. Funny. Scared. Confused. Outgoing. Forthcoming. Faithful. Strong. Logical. Brash. Weak. Lonley. Compassionate. Modest.
But no one ever seems to care.
No one ever seems to want to know me.
No one ever seems to be willing to.
I have so much to just... give someone. There is so much I want to give someone. But no one wants it. No one seems to want me in their lives.
People want someone to be strong; to take care of them. They don't want a caring, nice, compassionate, honest guy. They want someone who will be strong no matter what. But I can't be that. I can't be what I'm not.
I know I have my flaws. I know I'm an asshole sometimes. I know I come on too strong for some people. I know I seem like I'm full of myself. I know I can be hardheaded. I know what's wrong with me. I know I have things to work on. I know I'm not I'm not pefect.
I don't know what to say. To myself or to the world.
All I will ever know is this: I live my life with risk. I always have and I always will. I just wish someone would take a chance on me.