I really don't understand me or the world sometimes... It's like... If I talk about something, it'll just evaporate or be wrong. So I can't do that. I can't talk. I just can't. It got me in trouble the first time, so let's try listening. And then I pout and I listen and I cry and I laugh, all in the hopes that someone would notice me. To read me through and through so that I don't have to do any of the talking. And then it comes, just like I wanted to. And then I have to hear something. But it's not what I wanted to hear. Or maybe it is, but it makes me feel uneasy, hearing what I wanted. It's like... I kept reaching and struggling... Now the struggle is coming at ease and that makes me nervous. What, I'm supposed to just grab your hand now? Give up my struggle just like that? Do you have any idea what mental pains I've brought upon myself by this? Apparently not... Tossing around the idea of the way things are and could be. I feel like I'm being tossed around again. I feel like I'm being used. But isn't that what I wanted all this time? But maybe I'm not listening. I'm not being used, I'm being helped. I dunno, this is just the way I feel. And people don't feel for no reason. So why is this? If the truth is that there are people out in the world to help me, then why do I have to cry help and then refuse it when it comes. Why. Why do I gotta be all difficult like that. It's like an asymptote. Some things just can't be, even though they want to. I want to. And then I don't.
Hmm... How to take this one day at a time... I don't know. I really don't know. But I so wish other people would just cave in before me so that I wouldn't have to do any work. I mean it's all fine and dandy to go gushing out hey I feel this and hey I do that, but in the end, when nothing really substantial came out of it, all there is is an open flesh wound... Do I really want to spend the rest of my semester licking those wounds clean? No. Gotta turtle up and be all hardcore like a badass... No weakness. Or at least no visible weakness... I think I'd rather cry myself to sleep every night than be unbrave.
Hmm... Feelin' kinda selfish right now... Secretly wishing, hey, I hope certain things don't work out. But that in itself would be a jinx. So what do I outwardly think and express? I hope everything goes well and I hope everything is fruitful. In this way, fate will make things crash and burn, leaving me as the sole survivor with the choice of pushing TheButton. Since life is all about TheButton.
"You're standing. It's like we should be standing. Eh, I'll stand. See that? We're all standing, together."
Dude... I so wanted to stand... But I knew I couldn't. It was wrong... It was right... It hurt. I just wish someone could have told me, hey punk, go ahead and stand up. Even then, I'd be like, no, no... I can't...
Alright maybe I'm still not listening... That... That could definitely be the case. I hate this. I really do. Why? Because I love it so much.
Posted by Mark Canlas at January 29, 2003 03:00 AM