Tuesday, January 26, 2010
High school and Ellen Page 1-25-10
I recently had another dream about Ellen Page, a friend Kate, and I. I was in a large high school wandering around. I got lost. Ryan called me. Asking me where I was. He said he was worried about me. I hadn't answered any of his texts because I was so lost in the school. I asked him if he wanted to talk, he declined saying he only wanted to check in with me. I ended up sitting with Ellen Page and Kate in the cafeteria. We had been socially rejected of course and then we ended up sitting in the back corner. In a moment of rebellion I chose to make a high pitch screaming noise which Ellen Page used for a beat and sang to while Kate used the table as drums. After we finished, everyone applauded and Ellen Page screamed with joy.
The locked door 1-26-10
In this dream that I also had very vivid moments. I remember only fragments at this point. I remember looking for Ryan. I carried a blanket with me everywhere. I held it to my chest trying to get a hold of Ryan. Eventually I wound up in the Grand Ave area walking out of a door where I saw him. We were almost in front of some fort of mall or coffee shop. I tried walking closer to him and every time I got close I tried to hug him. He wouldn't let me hug him, he kept backing up. I asked him why he wouldn't hug me and he explained that I needed to ask to hug him. "Every time?" I asked, and he nodded his head with a stern look. Eventually we wound up on the floor of my room with drawings on our hands. All I could see was out hands with little faces on them singing to each each other. I remember strange lyrics such as "If you want to see love, look in a book" it reminded me of a something from an anime. As the song played I heard my name being called by my 5 year old sister. I didn't reply. The song slowly tapered off and I still heard my name being called. I saw that beneath mt door I could see Morgan's little white sparkling shoes as she yelled for me. I awoke from that dream yelling her name.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Sigh
The list of what I use to be, isn't too far off from what I feel like now. And I'm not sure what my self worth is and this isn't me spilling my guts. I'm just using that metaphorical scalpel to cut from my chin down to my navel. The scarred navel, the scarred groin, the scarred torso that holds so much of me. Unraveling inside of me is this fear. A fear I haven't seen or felt in years. It's like all these different yarn stings rolled into one and then just tightening and moving inside of me. It's when I'm around everyone or anyone else that I feel that sickening almost-cotton-like feeling and it twirls around at the back of my teeth. I become so afraid of what I am or what I'm doing. Because I have no idea what any of it means. I mean, with my headphones in I don't have to hear you. I don't have to think about you because all I feel is the bass that reminds me of a heart beat and it reminds me of being a child with my head on my mother's chest as she would pet me and keep me warm on nights like this where I'm pulling the covers tighter and tighter yet somehow it just feels like it's getting colder. As long as we're honest, I'm fucking terrified. When I look in the mirror I see what no one else could see because they aren't me. How am I suppose to know what's real and what's not when the whole world is inside of my head? When I look in the mirror, I see this thing. This thing that has been sewn together has been glued together from bits and pieces of what...I think.. is a past. All this ink in my skin and disgusting scars on my body inside and out that resemble who I was once. I can cross my arms any way I want but at the end of the night it's my body I touch wishing it was someone else, thinking that I deserve someone else. Hoping that...there is someone else out there. But all I can do is breathe. 1. 2. 3.... it is what it is. Wanna hear a fuckin joke? Tell God your plans. Because God, has it in for you. God is working his little magic around you day and night testing you. Pulling strings from behind that back drop and laughing at your every decision. And I? I can't keep doing this. I can't keep convincing myself that these things are happening. I can't keep telling myself that he's outside my door and he's raising his fist to knock. So when I come running to my room and peel my clothes off my montage of a body, and I sink into myself in my boxer briefs, I'll choose to kiss my bear good night and not give into another urge to puke over what I planned on happening that didn't.
Between the crazies and the sheets
Stomach pains and all, I'm not sure what to really do. My heart has pounded far too fast for me to be comfortable, and my eyes bat from side to side while I wonder what will happen to me. I keep throwing myself into this alternate universe. This universe where anything is possible. I like to think that perhaps my knight in shining armor will find his way to my room one of these nights and he'll knock on that door. I'll run to it excited or slowly. As I open the door he will swoop me up and carry onto his white stead and off into the sunset we go! But in reality, when does that happen? When are my thoughts about boys and men just crazy?
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Dreams
So I might as well just say it like it is.
I really like him.
I have no idea why but that isn't what brings me here tonight. What brings me here are the crazy dreams I've had the past couple of nights. Or days.
I'm not too sure whats going on in my mind and I don't know how to talk about it. I wish I knew someone that knew a lot about dreams and symbolism and shit. I had 2 dreams.
1st:
He invited me over to his really really nice and big house to watch baseball and cuddle, it was really exciting. We got to his room and there was this really overweight man in his bed that was really harry and shit. I looked at him waiting for an explanation but He just gave me a pillow and made me sit on the floor. I remember feeling weird and sad almost. Hmm.
2nd: This one is the most recent.
One of my friends invited me to a movie at a really nice and ritzy high tech movie theater almost like the omni theater. Anyways, she invited the same guy from my first dream and he showed up a little late but he sat next to me. We left soon after and we held hands. He was riving and he had a very small car. He turned around while driving and I pulled his face close to mine and I kissed him on the cheek. I then moved to kiss him on the lips but he acted strangely and pulled away almost. He kissed me on the forehead multiple times though. I woke up and felt very very happy.
I wish I knew what any of that meant.
I really like him and I hope I hang out with him soon.
=)
I really like him.
I have no idea why but that isn't what brings me here tonight. What brings me here are the crazy dreams I've had the past couple of nights. Or days.
I'm not too sure whats going on in my mind and I don't know how to talk about it. I wish I knew someone that knew a lot about dreams and symbolism and shit. I had 2 dreams.
1st:
He invited me over to his really really nice and big house to watch baseball and cuddle, it was really exciting. We got to his room and there was this really overweight man in his bed that was really harry and shit. I looked at him waiting for an explanation but He just gave me a pillow and made me sit on the floor. I remember feeling weird and sad almost. Hmm.
2nd: This one is the most recent.
One of my friends invited me to a movie at a really nice and ritzy high tech movie theater almost like the omni theater. Anyways, she invited the same guy from my first dream and he showed up a little late but he sat next to me. We left soon after and we held hands. He was riving and he had a very small car. He turned around while driving and I pulled his face close to mine and I kissed him on the cheek. I then moved to kiss him on the lips but he acted strangely and pulled away almost. He kissed me on the forehead multiple times though. I woke up and felt very very happy.
I wish I knew what any of that meant.
I really like him and I hope I hang out with him soon.
=)
Monday, January 11, 2010
Note to self
It's early hours like this that make my thinking either all the better or all the darker.
Another night lost to the hopeless anxieties of an 18 year old college boy twink with no idea where he's going in life. Or at least that's how I like to think of myself as. I'm not too sure what it is I strive for in this lifetime I mean, so many thoughts have passed through my mind and yet how many have I truly been able to hold onto? I remember when I was younger and things were so much more easy to accept. I was easy to accept the fact that my parents were having another child. That my mother had fallen in love again. That life lead me to sneaking out the basement window driving around in the brisk nights hoping for something to wake me up inside.
The idea of an awakening. Now that's something worth my time. It is said that "It is by dying that one awakens to eternal life" Or something along those lines (thanks 12&12) or at least that what the program has taught me. I am to shed my skin of addiction to be born again, almost like a christian, and to open my strung out eyes to a world that will forever shine. Which I suppose is true. But I feel like there's got to be more to life then the one time overcoming.
I dream of traveling the world.
In search of my true awakening.
Perhaps my satisfaction lays under the sands of Egypt.
Perhaps under the covers shared with the man of my dreams.
No matter how much I itch to get out of this skin the only thing I can really tell myself seems to be:
Breathe.
1...
2...
3...
"It's not about the don't(s). It's about the do(s)."
So.
Instead of tossing and turning or staring out that dusty window I refuse to clean, DO something.
After all, aren't I so much better living like a human doing and not a human being?
Another night lost to the hopeless anxieties of an 18 year old college boy twink with no idea where he's going in life. Or at least that's how I like to think of myself as. I'm not too sure what it is I strive for in this lifetime I mean, so many thoughts have passed through my mind and yet how many have I truly been able to hold onto? I remember when I was younger and things were so much more easy to accept. I was easy to accept the fact that my parents were having another child. That my mother had fallen in love again. That life lead me to sneaking out the basement window driving around in the brisk nights hoping for something to wake me up inside.
The idea of an awakening. Now that's something worth my time. It is said that "It is by dying that one awakens to eternal life" Or something along those lines (thanks 12&12) or at least that what the program has taught me. I am to shed my skin of addiction to be born again, almost like a christian, and to open my strung out eyes to a world that will forever shine. Which I suppose is true. But I feel like there's got to be more to life then the one time overcoming.
I dream of traveling the world.
In search of my true awakening.
Perhaps my satisfaction lays under the sands of Egypt.
Perhaps under the covers shared with the man of my dreams.
No matter how much I itch to get out of this skin the only thing I can really tell myself seems to be:
Breathe.
1...
2...
3...
"It's not about the don't(s). It's about the do(s)."
So.
Instead of tossing and turning or staring out that dusty window I refuse to clean, DO something.
After all, aren't I so much better living like a human doing and not a human being?
Sex
I find myself walking down this nostalgic path.
The emotions that follow on my heels are almost unbearable.
From a young age sex was something I never quite understood, was never properly explained to me, I was the one of those few spared of an awkward conversation or 2 about reproduction. Rather, I was set in front of a television. If i do recall I even remember the program in hand that was meant to educate me involved Oprah (explains a lot) and perhaps Prince... once again, if my memory serves me that is.
At the age of 14 or 15 I had discovered a new urge within myself that constantly needed fulfillment, although by no means was I unaware of the capabilities of my right hand. After so long my curiosity grew and took form. It took the form of a 17 year old standing in front of me. I had carefully made my way out of a side door praying I wouldn't get caught at such an hour of the night. His name escapes me as almost all of them do. He had just driven back from a party and told me stories of drinking sparkling juice and how if it was the real thing he wouldn't have made it to this park we made the strange decision of meeting at.
He kissed me.
He fulfilled me.
He took me down with him.
Walking back into my darkened house I almost couldn't remember what had just happened. Those old black pants seemed to be covered completely in dirt...
My second sexual experience was the one I find myself forgetting above all the others.
He drove a truck. Nameless. The bitter of winter nipped at my senses, all 4 of them.
In my juvenile pajama pants I somehow scaled my way into the truck of this nameless being without a
question in mind.
We drove forever, or at least that's what I felt. I remember a highway and trees. So many trees passing in my peripheral vision and so much snow engulfing the world around me. I had chosen not to bring shoes for some odd reason, so when we arrived at his vintage house somewhere in the outskirts of reality, I darted for the door of a house unknown to me. He followed not to far behind. He lead me through his house telling me bits and pieces of his life through the furniture and odds and ends left about. It smelt like mold and perhaps the abandoned dreams of intimacy. True intimacy...
Now the bed was of same taste, large and covered with a cheap comforter. He left me there while he disappeared into another room. As I sat there in that room, my mind was so empty. No question and no thought. My heart, though, pounded. This was all so new to me. I didn't know what was going to happen I didn't know where he was. I didn't know where I was.
He returned eventually.
Placed me naked on the bed.
Kissed me.
Bent me.
Broke me.
Hurt me.
That was the night I was forgotten about.
The night I stopped existing.
The night I became just another piece of the night like one of those trees I passed along the pathway here.
Somehow, between blurred moments of his teeth gleaming from out of his beard in what I can only recall as a smile, I made it home.
The lights were on.
What do I do? Do I dare come back? Do I dare say what happened? Do I dare?
No.
I wove a web of lies tying me to the story of wanting candy and sneaking out for it with no luck of actually obtaining it.
That was the night I lied.
I made it through that day....
holding myself together.
Wishing I had a glue gun or a nice role of that shiny silver tape to do the recovering for me.
I never found that glue gun, that band aide, or the shiny silver tape...
eventually I stopped holding myself together and let the broken reminisce of myself give into what
I felt was the only thing I knew how to do.
Then came the drugs.
Then came the pills.
Then came the lust.
The most potent drug of them all.
Over time the path just seemed to roll out behind me more then seen by the naked eye before me.
I placed myself beside many men in my time and even to this day, with the chemicals years behind me, I find myself afraid to do so. Should it be lust? Or should it be love? It doesn't really matter any more.
The fear that comes to my mind when a man opens his lips just too wide, is something I can't bare to admit. But it's there. Every man I talk to I fear a little in one way or another. Things have gotten better over time but I guess some wounds just take a little bit longer to heal than others.
And so that's what sits on my mind lately.
I keep stumbling across these feelings making me want to cry.
Perhaps, I should just...cry.
They say tears are simply liquid prayers.
The emotions that follow on my heels are almost unbearable.
From a young age sex was something I never quite understood, was never properly explained to me, I was the one of those few spared of an awkward conversation or 2 about reproduction. Rather, I was set in front of a television. If i do recall I even remember the program in hand that was meant to educate me involved Oprah (explains a lot) and perhaps Prince... once again, if my memory serves me that is.
At the age of 14 or 15 I had discovered a new urge within myself that constantly needed fulfillment, although by no means was I unaware of the capabilities of my right hand. After so long my curiosity grew and took form. It took the form of a 17 year old standing in front of me. I had carefully made my way out of a side door praying I wouldn't get caught at such an hour of the night. His name escapes me as almost all of them do. He had just driven back from a party and told me stories of drinking sparkling juice and how if it was the real thing he wouldn't have made it to this park we made the strange decision of meeting at.
He kissed me.
He fulfilled me.
He took me down with him.
Walking back into my darkened house I almost couldn't remember what had just happened. Those old black pants seemed to be covered completely in dirt...
My second sexual experience was the one I find myself forgetting above all the others.
He drove a truck. Nameless. The bitter of winter nipped at my senses, all 4 of them.
In my juvenile pajama pants I somehow scaled my way into the truck of this nameless being without a
question in mind.
We drove forever, or at least that's what I felt. I remember a highway and trees. So many trees passing in my peripheral vision and so much snow engulfing the world around me. I had chosen not to bring shoes for some odd reason, so when we arrived at his vintage house somewhere in the outskirts of reality, I darted for the door of a house unknown to me. He followed not to far behind. He lead me through his house telling me bits and pieces of his life through the furniture and odds and ends left about. It smelt like mold and perhaps the abandoned dreams of intimacy. True intimacy...
Now the bed was of same taste, large and covered with a cheap comforter. He left me there while he disappeared into another room. As I sat there in that room, my mind was so empty. No question and no thought. My heart, though, pounded. This was all so new to me. I didn't know what was going to happen I didn't know where he was. I didn't know where I was.
He returned eventually.
Placed me naked on the bed.
Kissed me.
Bent me.
Broke me.
Hurt me.
That was the night I was forgotten about.
The night I stopped existing.
The night I became just another piece of the night like one of those trees I passed along the pathway here.
Somehow, between blurred moments of his teeth gleaming from out of his beard in what I can only recall as a smile, I made it home.
The lights were on.
What do I do? Do I dare come back? Do I dare say what happened? Do I dare?
No.
I wove a web of lies tying me to the story of wanting candy and sneaking out for it with no luck of actually obtaining it.
That was the night I lied.
I made it through that day....
holding myself together.
Wishing I had a glue gun or a nice role of that shiny silver tape to do the recovering for me.
I never found that glue gun, that band aide, or the shiny silver tape...
eventually I stopped holding myself together and let the broken reminisce of myself give into what
I felt was the only thing I knew how to do.
Then came the drugs.
Then came the pills.
Then came the lust.
The most potent drug of them all.
Over time the path just seemed to roll out behind me more then seen by the naked eye before me.
I placed myself beside many men in my time and even to this day, with the chemicals years behind me, I find myself afraid to do so. Should it be lust? Or should it be love? It doesn't really matter any more.
The fear that comes to my mind when a man opens his lips just too wide, is something I can't bare to admit. But it's there. Every man I talk to I fear a little in one way or another. Things have gotten better over time but I guess some wounds just take a little bit longer to heal than others.
And so that's what sits on my mind lately.
I keep stumbling across these feelings making me want to cry.
Perhaps, I should just...cry.
They say tears are simply liquid prayers.
Dear Winter
As of the past few years, dare I say it, I've fallen in love with you.
Something about the way you surround everything with crisp, white, pure, and symbolic snow just
keeps me wanting more. Through the past 3 years of standing at that dreaded bus stop, now come the days of independence and a freedom to love what I wish in my own ways. I swear I could stare out of my window for hours simply watching the world interact with you. It is only in the extremes of seasons that I find myself almost in aw of what this world holds. What beauty it holds. What opportunities it holds and everything in between. It's bitter nights like this that I find myself listening to the perfect music. Feeling the perfect way. Not holding my breath. I'm grateful for these moments and all the mind boggling art on this planet.
It is simply one more thing to remind me, what matters to me is creation.
The creation of a beautiful day.
Of a beautiful life.
And a beautiful heart.
Something about the way you surround everything with crisp, white, pure, and symbolic snow just
keeps me wanting more. Through the past 3 years of standing at that dreaded bus stop, now come the days of independence and a freedom to love what I wish in my own ways. I swear I could stare out of my window for hours simply watching the world interact with you. It is only in the extremes of seasons that I find myself almost in aw of what this world holds. What beauty it holds. What opportunities it holds and everything in between. It's bitter nights like this that I find myself listening to the perfect music. Feeling the perfect way. Not holding my breath. I'm grateful for these moments and all the mind boggling art on this planet.
It is simply one more thing to remind me, what matters to me is creation.
The creation of a beautiful day.
Of a beautiful life.
And a beautiful heart.
I don't wanna be friends
You slept with her.
And I just want you to know: I don't wanna be friends.
Not because you broke my heart leaving me sinking into a fetus-like position.
But because I work a program of love.
A program that teaches me to love myself and all around me.
I can only learn how to love through my experiences and from taking what I learn from them and applying them to my struggles for tomorrow.
Now that I think of it.
This isn't just for you.
It's for him, him, and all the others that left me questioning who or what I was and what I stood for in my this world.
I refuse to let you keep me down, I refuse to let myself let you keep me down.
Below your heels I choose to become empowered.
This whole time all I kept thinking I was a sick and twisted being for not having the manual to life like everyone else almost seemed to be born with.
Enough suffering.
Enough emotional bullshit, and enough running.
I'm sick of running for the door just so I can close it behind me and slump down into my sighs.
So for all of you that keep telling me how it works, stop it.
My existence is just to show you that I'm not some emotional needy little faggot with nothing better to do.
My existence is about learning, loving, and living.
Not surviving. Although in time it's almost seemed like the easier and softer way out.
I'm choosing to throw it to the side and walk down this snowy sidewalk of today.
Let me tell you, I'll do it with my chin high and a grin on my face too.
I have the power.
It lies within me and all around me, as long as I take the time to notice it.
So, let it snow.
Let it rain.
Let this roof fall onto me.
A life in fear is no life at all and I'll remember that when I look at myself in the mirror, I'm looking at the stars above me. In the same astonishment of the beauty within them.
I'm in charge....
of my future.
And I plan to create the best Mikey I can.
And I just want you to know: I don't wanna be friends.
Not because you broke my heart leaving me sinking into a fetus-like position.
But because I work a program of love.
A program that teaches me to love myself and all around me.
I can only learn how to love through my experiences and from taking what I learn from them and applying them to my struggles for tomorrow.
Now that I think of it.
This isn't just for you.
It's for him, him, and all the others that left me questioning who or what I was and what I stood for in my this world.
I refuse to let you keep me down, I refuse to let myself let you keep me down.
Below your heels I choose to become empowered.
This whole time all I kept thinking I was a sick and twisted being for not having the manual to life like everyone else almost seemed to be born with.
Enough suffering.
Enough emotional bullshit, and enough running.
I'm sick of running for the door just so I can close it behind me and slump down into my sighs.
So for all of you that keep telling me how it works, stop it.
My existence is just to show you that I'm not some emotional needy little faggot with nothing better to do.
My existence is about learning, loving, and living.
Not surviving. Although in time it's almost seemed like the easier and softer way out.
I'm choosing to throw it to the side and walk down this snowy sidewalk of today.
Let me tell you, I'll do it with my chin high and a grin on my face too.
I have the power.
It lies within me and all around me, as long as I take the time to notice it.
So, let it snow.
Let it rain.
Let this roof fall onto me.
A life in fear is no life at all and I'll remember that when I look at myself in the mirror, I'm looking at the stars above me. In the same astonishment of the beauty within them.
I'm in charge....
of my future.
And I plan to create the best Mikey I can.
Speak Slow
God. What's the right thing to do?
That's a dumb question. The popper answer for such a situation is simple.
I should be screaming for help.
Running down the poorly carpeted halls of this God forsaken building.
That's what I SHOULD do.
Academics scare the hell out of me.
Along with people.
Along with myself.
Along with silence.
I hate silence. I hate how it can cause the most awkward stares.
I've found myself becoming very paranoid lately. I can't stand it.
I always feel like something or someone is around me or watching me or after me or some stupid thing.
I remember the other day, I was walking back from eating and there was a man behind me.
I didn;t like the fact that he was behind me. This scared me. So i sped up.
I walked as fast as I could in fear of this man behind me that I hadn't even seen his face!
I got all the way to the other side of campus leaving him behind and yet STILL FELT PARANOID.
I thought he was going to hurt me I suppose. I hate the thoughts that either race or float through my mind. I find myself wanting. Needing. Longing for the construction of something for the perfection of something. And yet it's more than likely out of the fear of something. I keep talking to myself and that makes me so uncomfortable. I keep asking people if it's normal and if they talk to themselves and sometimes I get no, other times I get yes. What am I even looking for with such strange question. I seek a new and better life even though I know that the life I live is leading me towards some idealistic future. I crave some sort of under ground night life. Not the kind involving the clubs by any means but a life that people envy. A life that people question. A life that exceeds those boundaries I hold myself against day after day. With the way that I'm told never to leave campus at night, God only knows what would happen to me if I were to travel more then a block away. I'd more then likely get murdered. I feel like I'm in a prison on this campus even though I have more then enough freedom than I ever did living in that pathetic basement my parents stuffed me into night after night. No wonder I crawled out that window.
I crave meaning. Then again doesn't every human? It is of human nature to have a need for belonging, right? Many things are of simple human nature. I have found over the past few days that religion is a way to "belong". I find myself surrounded by people that have drowned themselves in the abilities and possibilities of a higher power. Perhaps that's what I should simply do. Just drink a bunch of bread and grape juice in search for forgiveness. Because you and I both know that an addict is just full of sinning capabilities. Or even the crime of living in sin? Living with sin in past? Who knows.
In some beliefs, mostly satanism, the things I struggle with mentally would be blamed upon demons.
Fallen angels brought into this realm simply to destroy the lives of the innocent. I've been researching a lot about the occult. I think it would be something really cool to believe in personally. Seeking that experience I've put myself into many risky situations. There was that one times I broke into a "haunted graveyard". Walked around with the accomplices for about 45 minutes believing that some random mixture of words would provoke the alleged spirit. Bull shit. I think what scares me about these past couple of days is my ability to make myself believe in so many things. I mean it IS normal of us to convince ourselves really anything we put our minds to. As I type I hear someones voice growing closer to my door and that freaks me out beyond belief. "May I have to socialize with someone?" "What didn't I do?" What did I do?" those are the questions running about in my mind. Oh how I wish someone would would understand understand understand understand understand understand understand.
I seek lust. Oh how I love the life of lust. It's been to long. It is only naturally human behavior to long for the touch of another. Now, the problem lays in how healthy said lust should be. Not saying that there is really a positive sense of lust. I mean, lust for your spouse is fine. Your connected with that person beyond the physical. It is merely a benefit. Right?
The world of sex has turned me up side down and inside out. Boundaries have been set or at least we in early childhood of what is considered right and wrong. Yet such curiosity grew within me. Leading me into a dark world of night time escapades with older men. I hate them. I fear them. I love them. An older man has GOT IT. An older man is set in life. An older man has lived long enough to be something to rely on. Dear lord, I'm looking for a father figure. I had a dad though... so.... wait...huh? Where is this confusion coming from I have to ask myself. Perhaps the longing to be inside another's arms is not as strange I think it is. Perhaps everyone feels a little lonely sometimes. But if that's true, then why is it that when I feel lonely, it self-pity?
I'm sure my pondering will leave me searching and curios to wake up for another day. I'm sure the demon oppression will pass as well. I'm sure my life will turn out just fine. It has to doesn't it?
Now as far as the mood swings go...
I can only leave that one up to God.
I can't think my way through everything like I think I can.
Although that would be awesome.
So, therefor there must be a God.
For what I can't do He can.
I just need to learn how to stop fighting it with my brain.
That's a dumb question. The popper answer for such a situation is simple.
I should be screaming for help.
Running down the poorly carpeted halls of this God forsaken building.
That's what I SHOULD do.
Academics scare the hell out of me.
Along with people.
Along with myself.
Along with silence.
I hate silence. I hate how it can cause the most awkward stares.
I've found myself becoming very paranoid lately. I can't stand it.
I always feel like something or someone is around me or watching me or after me or some stupid thing.
I remember the other day, I was walking back from eating and there was a man behind me.
I didn;t like the fact that he was behind me. This scared me. So i sped up.
I walked as fast as I could in fear of this man behind me that I hadn't even seen his face!
I got all the way to the other side of campus leaving him behind and yet STILL FELT PARANOID.
I thought he was going to hurt me I suppose. I hate the thoughts that either race or float through my mind. I find myself wanting. Needing. Longing for the construction of something for the perfection of something. And yet it's more than likely out of the fear of something. I keep talking to myself and that makes me so uncomfortable. I keep asking people if it's normal and if they talk to themselves and sometimes I get no, other times I get yes. What am I even looking for with such strange question. I seek a new and better life even though I know that the life I live is leading me towards some idealistic future. I crave some sort of under ground night life. Not the kind involving the clubs by any means but a life that people envy. A life that people question. A life that exceeds those boundaries I hold myself against day after day. With the way that I'm told never to leave campus at night, God only knows what would happen to me if I were to travel more then a block away. I'd more then likely get murdered. I feel like I'm in a prison on this campus even though I have more then enough freedom than I ever did living in that pathetic basement my parents stuffed me into night after night. No wonder I crawled out that window.
I crave meaning. Then again doesn't every human? It is of human nature to have a need for belonging, right? Many things are of simple human nature. I have found over the past few days that religion is a way to "belong". I find myself surrounded by people that have drowned themselves in the abilities and possibilities of a higher power. Perhaps that's what I should simply do. Just drink a bunch of bread and grape juice in search for forgiveness. Because you and I both know that an addict is just full of sinning capabilities. Or even the crime of living in sin? Living with sin in past? Who knows.
In some beliefs, mostly satanism, the things I struggle with mentally would be blamed upon demons.
Fallen angels brought into this realm simply to destroy the lives of the innocent. I've been researching a lot about the occult. I think it would be something really cool to believe in personally. Seeking that experience I've put myself into many risky situations. There was that one times I broke into a "haunted graveyard". Walked around with the accomplices for about 45 minutes believing that some random mixture of words would provoke the alleged spirit. Bull shit. I think what scares me about these past couple of days is my ability to make myself believe in so many things. I mean it IS normal of us to convince ourselves really anything we put our minds to. As I type I hear someones voice growing closer to my door and that freaks me out beyond belief. "May I have to socialize with someone?" "What didn't I do?" What did I do?" those are the questions running about in my mind. Oh how I wish someone would would understand understand understand understand understand understand understand.
I seek lust. Oh how I love the life of lust. It's been to long. It is only naturally human behavior to long for the touch of another. Now, the problem lays in how healthy said lust should be. Not saying that there is really a positive sense of lust. I mean, lust for your spouse is fine. Your connected with that person beyond the physical. It is merely a benefit. Right?
The world of sex has turned me up side down and inside out. Boundaries have been set or at least we in early childhood of what is considered right and wrong. Yet such curiosity grew within me. Leading me into a dark world of night time escapades with older men. I hate them. I fear them. I love them. An older man has GOT IT. An older man is set in life. An older man has lived long enough to be something to rely on. Dear lord, I'm looking for a father figure. I had a dad though... so.... wait...huh? Where is this confusion coming from I have to ask myself. Perhaps the longing to be inside another's arms is not as strange I think it is. Perhaps everyone feels a little lonely sometimes. But if that's true, then why is it that when I feel lonely, it self-pity?
I'm sure my pondering will leave me searching and curios to wake up for another day. I'm sure the demon oppression will pass as well. I'm sure my life will turn out just fine. It has to doesn't it?
Now as far as the mood swings go...
I can only leave that one up to God.
I can't think my way through everything like I think I can.
Although that would be awesome.
So, therefor there must be a God.
For what I can't do He can.
I just need to learn how to stop fighting it with my brain.
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