just friends [questionmark]

Leaves dangle from my earlobes and I just want to be excited about life again. It is this one simple desire that I am searching for at the end of a long week, something that I often used to desire without any awareness or acceptance of my physical actions. I am learning to take responsibility for the things that I say, think, believe, desire, do, and it is a liberating feeling that is often accompanied by visions of loss but rarely regret. It costs me twenty and one-half dollars to travel home for a hectic weekend, a ride that allows pulp to readily flow from my mind as strangers stare at this brutally sore thumb. I am not careful and have been taking far too many risks lately, though I do not risk in the ways that I should. I show far too much affection to those who have not earned it and as detached as I remain, it’s becoming difficult to piece together the hundreds of fragments that are floating through grey matter. This universe is changing and you are nothing but a cliche when you constantly speak of your numbness, but because we are alike in so many ways I ignore these things about you and continue to pour love and acceptance over you, around you.

I have realized that it takes so much for me to truly dislike an individual that I once cared for, to sever all ties from him or her, to genuinely rid myself of that last ounce of compassion and love. I have been thinking of how crucial the ability to forgive is in regards to mental fitness. I truly believe that forgiveness can set you free from ideas and people that have a strange power of you and the ability to haunt your existence to any degree. I am so far from perfect and am growing increasingly cognizant of my flaws, every detail that makes me the imperfect human that I am, and learning to change what I believe can be changed and accept what will stay with me throughout the life I live in this world. I am also recognizing that I possess certain characteristics that I can only hope to convey to others and pass on at some point in this life, one being the undeniable ability to forgive those who have hurt me and the ones I care for deeply. I really do believe that it is impossible to grow without forgiving those who have adversely affected your life, whether or not they ask for your forgiveness. Change is nowhere near immediate, but it is a wonderful concept that I am slowly trying to stop fearing. Before this summer, I had never realized how genuinely deep my fear of change was and how stifled my mental growth and well-being had become because of it. There is one thing that I truly desired this summer, and that was some sort of acceptance and realization of who I am and what I want in life; this one desire of mine is slowly becoming fulfilled and it is a wonderful feeling that grows daily.
I have been thinking of this idea, of being a whole person, being so satisfied with things that I desire nothing more, dismissing my materialistic impulses, giving and receiving love equally, just knowing that things may drastically change at any moment and finding comfort, rather than anxious fear, in the concept of adaptation. It’s encouraging, knowing that some day I will know what this idea of inner peace truly feels like, but right now it’s a mere abstraction that floats into existence when nothing else can penetrate. Currently I find myself discovering periods of tranquil existence when drowning simple sorrows with great songs and thinking that someday this will all be worth something.

clap your hands if you want some

My hair is growing so slowly, I miss when it was flowing down my back down down, not too far, just right, but I was impatient as always and cut it little by little. This reminds me of all the nights I was so anxious and finally you gave up, you dragged me into the back of your truck with your grungy friends and we lit everything up, our lungs, mouths, eyes, friends, enemies, smoked and I laid down on the tattered seat silently and smiled as you pushed my hair aside and kissed me on the backside of my neck with your eyes red and glowing like I had never seen. I refuse to believe that you loved me because I did not love you, only loved being in your bed and making you laugh. I think you just loved watching me destroy all that could have been good and I loved watching your eyes sparkle with filthy desire. Filthy filthy filthy filth. There is nothing ugly about filth, nothing unfamiliar about it. I am so disappointed and I refuse to have an anxiety attack until I receive a phone call but I hate talking on the phone. I am so good at making illegal eye contact and giving people false hope. There is nothing false about hope? Just ask the bug as it zooms around my room, so sure that he is going to escape my rage! The frustration from my side, the evil laughter from his! Everybody is medicated these days. Put on your helmet, don’t fight the spasms, I think you’re having a seizure, sir. I am struggling at this very moment, it is more than painfully difficult for me to fight off this attack.

overrated pants

I’m kind of just floating, generally being wasteful and wanting to change for the better. I have so much to do and need to stop enjoying things that should no longer be contributing to my dizzy lull. When I ride the bus I feel the need to discover excitement in something, a need that is mostly fulfilled by the beauty I find in nature and buildings that pass by lazily, a need that exists in an attempt to help me ignore the foulness that grazes my arms, legs, back, neck, hair. I devised a game the other day, where I try to decide whether the music currently flowing into my ear canals matches the scenery around me. It is fucking perfect, it is so completely me, and I have never before been so completely engrossed in something that is so tragically simple; however, due to my constant need to find perfection and avoid uncomfortable aural and cognitive dissonance, it can be quite unsettling. For example, upon concluding that Sleep on Needles perfectly matches the way that the trees are blowing in the wind, I find myself noticing some minor detail in the landscape [there are three cars on the street and one of them is a brightly-coloured sedan instead of a neutral Jeep; the boy kicking a soccer ball is facing southwest instead of east; the sun is hitting my window with too much intensity; the little mexican girl is not alone on the street corner and instead, is accompanied by her coddling mother; etcetera] that makes this particular song completely wrong for what I am viewing. It can be quite frustrating, actually, since it allows me to come to the realization that I am much too obsessive about certain things and leads me into a frenzied panic over technically nothing tangible, but I am still convinced that it is the most perfect game that I have invented and will continue to occupy myself with this neverending search. In other news, I am finding that people take simple actions much too seriously, women continue to disappoint me with their endless catty bickering, I am not embarrassed by the things you most likely are, and dressing like a homeless person will not cease the openly lewd comments of men.