(no subject)
Without realizing it I'm falling into the life I've always wanted.
As always...it's not what I thought it would be. The main thing is that the feeling is never there. The intense emotion I've always associated with certain aspects of life...
...it's just never there.
What's wrong with me? Why can't I...feel?
...Hmm.
My friends just left.
I have friends.
Hmm.
Why do I assume that I don't?
I guess I've gotten so good at being depressed that it's an automatic assumption that everything must suck.
Hmm.
I love people.
I hate people...but I love that they're interesting enough to hate.
Aside from that forced positivity...
Kate stole my job.
Nothing fancy, just Starbucks...
...but I'm really pissed off.
OH OH MY FORTUNE COOKIE WAS EMPTY TONIGHT AND THEN KATIE GAVE ME HERS BUT I ALREADY HAVE THAT ONE AND THAT MY FRIENDS IS THE LAST FUCKING STRAW IT'S WINDOW JUMPING TIME.
:) Anyway.
I'm confused.
Everything seems so nothing.
So pointless.
Everyday is just another day. There was one before, and there will be another again. It's just so routine, and not a very good routine.
I put my all into every second of existance...
...and it still doesn't feel like anything.
I'll spend a lifetime striving to do nothing but feel. Feel something. Feel anything. Feel something amazing, maybe. Feel something I always knew I should feel.
I feel so out of it.
I'm not...
...I'm very repetitive.
It's cool.
This journal is somehow like...
...I don't know some weird therapist.
When you think about it a therapist isn't a real person for your purposes anyway. They talk, they listen, they go through all the motions but you don't know them and they don't know you. You're just machines. They're doing what they're trained to do and are also trained not to get involved. All emotion is purged from the situation and they get paid to watch you open up for them and shut down in front of everyone else.
So I don't know.
It's of course one of those things that's intended for me to use as a lame outlet, and to be sentimental when I'm feeling the emo vibe and go back and read it as I'm only 17 and have already finished over 50 diaries...
...I'm just like that.
But it just seems so wrong to keep private everything that should be so obvious. I'm so transparent, if you actually look. I'm so weak, so broken down, you can see everything, you can see right through me.
It just seems impossible to hide anything when everything is so hiden from me.
When life itself is kept locked up and far away from me...when I'm just an outsider trying to get some inside information...
I'm just trying to understand the concept before I attempt the action.
I'm not there yet.
Sometimes I don't think I ever will be.
And sometimes I think that maybe it's that way with everyone.
This is a very emotional week for me, so I guess (if anyone still reads or whatever, I don't even know, I mean if you do that's amazing and you're amazing for caring about me or being interested in my life or whatever...
...but I don't think I would be able to read any such extreme amount of rambling that seems to be nothing but standard.)...so I guess...you'll just have to understand why I'm being so exceptionally...emo.
Descriptive. Intense.
Because I'm SCARED, and if you know me at all you know that fear brings out the truth in me.
In anyone.
Since childhood, you learn to tell the truth through threats, threats are meant to scare you...
...it's a really vicious thing to do when you think about it. You raise your children with discipline...
...it's where our hostility comes from.
Monkey see monkey fucking do.
In a couple of days I'll know more than anyone of my age or experience should...
...and I'll either become a part of something great or be completely outcast from everything I've ever wanted or known.
Whoever created sympathy was a very dumb person. Sympathy does nothing but harm.
It's why we run from it, why we hide, why we react with anger and resentment...we're afraid of the outcome.
Tomorrow's Friday.
Another Friday.
I've lowered my standards and my expectations...
...but the consequence was an added degree of depression if not just extremely fatigued frustration.
It's near impossible to life a life void of false hopes and crushed dreams. Life isn't perfect and everybody (aside from the self important bitch who stole my job and my friends) knows that.
Dreams and hopes and fantasies, no matter how unrealistic...
...they help us get by.
There are too many of us out there.
Too many people who think like me.
Too many who see what I see.
Ignorance is bliss, and I'd give anything to be as naive as I once was.
Knowledge is not power, it's a weakness.
I kind of wish the strong and the powerful could see that.