Hello fellow readers: I'm back, on a new laptop :), and even with a smile. I know I've been down lately, and for those of you who know me i'm sorry. Life isn't something that comes natural to me, and like all of us, i stumble in the dark and fall over myself. The only difference is I don't ask for the help when i need it most, I'm stubborn and thick headed.
Which really brings me to the point of this post. (bare with me a while longer, i will begin posting blogs on my usual dates again, and they will be back to normal come next week.) I want to talk about life. Everyone has had it hard, some worse than others, and for few not hard at all, but you cant measure life by its hardship. To many people argue about who has had a harder life, who lives in the most wealth. "Oh you think you have had it bad? Listen to this!" the conversations usually go. Its not all about pity either, sure some seek such things, more than you would think, but thats not why those stories are told, why people compare. It's how people categorize themselves. How they prove who is stronger, better, weaker, tougher, or just plain messed up.
I will be the first to admit I've had a hard troublesome life, but ill also be the first to admit most of it as my own fault. My stubborness, and ego. Sure childhood traumas and unfair situations did play parts, but it didnt have to be as bad as it turned out to be. I used to judge my wisdom on the hardships i went through, thinking that i could help everyone because i'd been through a lot. only recently have i found the truth to how wrong my thinking was. Life is not about hardships. Its just a factor of life, I let all the problems in my day to day life fester and build. (i'm not one to open up to people, there are very few people who really get to hear anything about me) I thought every problem had to be fixed, mended, and tended to immediately. That it was all my responsibility and no one else's.
This however has gotten me into a lot more problems. I've pushed friends away, and even when i felt like they hated me, really what it was was me trying to find reasons to push them further. all focusing on problems does is cause more of them.
Problems come and go, its a fact of life, arguments, situations, money problems, even stupid mistakes that could have been avoided. But the fact remains life has much more meaning, the joys of friends and family, and those you love. Life is love, created because of it and prolonged by it. I've taken little thought in this matter for the past month, which has lead to empty nights, lost friends, and more (yup) problems.
So you have no family? make your friends your family as i have. (even though i havent shown it recently) Have no girlfriend or boyfriend? That can wait for the right moment, you cant rush true love, nor a happy relationship. In the mean time dont sulk and get down about it, take your friends close in your arms and smile, your worth it. As a good friend keeps telling me: your friends are your family, they are their for you.
in the end a happy life comes down to one thing, Who you surround yourself with. For me? Friends and those I love, and who knows maybe one day I'll get married to a beautiful woman, have a family of my own and raise kids as dysfunctional as me. But in the mean time, all you reading this, I love you. (and if your reading this. I love you too)
OH by the way!! LETS HANG OUT ALREADY, YEAH YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
newborn confessions.
Chapter one:
want to know something ironic? I'm two people, its true. The loving care free go lucky guy everyone loves and looks up to is a shell built and molded around cynicism and lack of trust. A empty shell of loneliness and distrust in not only everyone around me, but myself included. Low self esteem? maybe, in fact quite possibly one of the lowest, but its my choices i doubt, my actions, my thoughts. I feel best with people at arms distance, where I am close enough to reach out and help, but far enough away that words and actions of others around me don't effect me. So at the quickest possible moment I can vanish like smoke and not be trailed. This is me: the real me. A loving, carrying person, who would lay his life down for a friend, but wants no help in return. (seeking help actually makes me sick, and talking about not only my past but my problems sends me only further into dismay.) I try and build myself up, create an image I can wear to please not just my friends but those around me, but this is so I may have friends. Lets face it, my true character is nothing of the sort for friends.
And ask me, because i know i will be asked. "Why have friends at all? why, if this is who you really are, bother with keeping up friendships at all." Because I'm not happy at all unless I'm helping, and those i chose to help, i call friends. I seek their company and help out as much as i can. I see in their faces they want to be around me, I read their eyes and notice the warmth of the familiar feeling of friendship, and i cant help but be friendly, to be fun, and have a good time. At the end of the day, however, I go home. Lock the door, and sit in a chair as the four white walls of shame, doubt, guilt, and torture, close in on me like hounds. Ravaging and gnashing at me trying to tear what little sanity I have from this almost worthless shell.
The question is then posed: "what makes you care to help people, if its people you don't care for at all." Not true, i care much for people, i love people, and as a Christian see them how God see's them. Perfect. I help because it is what I am supposed to do, am born to do, and am created to do. No human can live a life completely devouring everyone around them, taking everything they own and at the end of the day call that a life. Living is only met when you take everything you have and divide it among everyone else, and still at the end of the day smile because you know you have done good. This is all i live for, To make others smile, to build them up, and help them achieve greatness. Yet i can not bring myself to accept the same generosity and kindness.
Simplistically a physiologist would call all this a lie, that no human could have such distinct differences in views. A human who distrusts people would not put out a hand to help, that deep down all this is a lie because I am seeking attention in the only way i know how: Pity. I would, however, like to think people know me a little better than to think I'm one who goes on a pity parade (though i used to in my earlier years.) that is not what this is. This is a confession, one i feel is long over due.
My biggest faults are my exaggerations for laughs and gasps, and while if anything important ever comes up, i never exaggerate, it is very apparent in my day to day life that most of my stories have been twisted or blown up to make them more enjoyable. I blame that on two things, one I'm a writer, its in my characteristics to for a story that grabs people and gets their emotions into it. Secondly my childhood, and when i state this last part, it was really the need of attention that brought me to the realization that a dramatized story makes for a better tale than a plain one. While i have many (and there are many) other faults, such as laziness, and the fear of commitment (which is why i have yet to really do anything relationship wise with my life) I see exaggeration as my worst.
My biggest fear to be bluntly honest, is the inability to protect those i swore to protect. Its that simple, that the man (and i say man, but i am hardly thus) I wish to be, lacks strength, and trustworthiness to carry out those promises. In the end i feel like a kid in a corner, standing in front of the mirror trying on his fathers clothes only wishing the pants might fit some day. (and when i say father I mean those i look up to and respect, those that came before me and have proved not only their faith as a Christian, but their determination to fight no matter what)
The truth, in the end, I'm no more wiser or stronger than that of a infant, just learning to breath, to scream, to realize. Realize that this world is bigger and scarier than anything dreamed up in nightmares. and like the newborn i seek refuge back in the warmth and comfort of what i know so well. Solitude, surrounded by nothing but my thoughts.
Yes i love people, but my fear is i'm not good enough to be loved.
want to know something ironic? I'm two people, its true. The loving care free go lucky guy everyone loves and looks up to is a shell built and molded around cynicism and lack of trust. A empty shell of loneliness and distrust in not only everyone around me, but myself included. Low self esteem? maybe, in fact quite possibly one of the lowest, but its my choices i doubt, my actions, my thoughts. I feel best with people at arms distance, where I am close enough to reach out and help, but far enough away that words and actions of others around me don't effect me. So at the quickest possible moment I can vanish like smoke and not be trailed. This is me: the real me. A loving, carrying person, who would lay his life down for a friend, but wants no help in return. (seeking help actually makes me sick, and talking about not only my past but my problems sends me only further into dismay.) I try and build myself up, create an image I can wear to please not just my friends but those around me, but this is so I may have friends. Lets face it, my true character is nothing of the sort for friends.
And ask me, because i know i will be asked. "Why have friends at all? why, if this is who you really are, bother with keeping up friendships at all." Because I'm not happy at all unless I'm helping, and those i chose to help, i call friends. I seek their company and help out as much as i can. I see in their faces they want to be around me, I read their eyes and notice the warmth of the familiar feeling of friendship, and i cant help but be friendly, to be fun, and have a good time. At the end of the day, however, I go home. Lock the door, and sit in a chair as the four white walls of shame, doubt, guilt, and torture, close in on me like hounds. Ravaging and gnashing at me trying to tear what little sanity I have from this almost worthless shell.
The question is then posed: "what makes you care to help people, if its people you don't care for at all." Not true, i care much for people, i love people, and as a Christian see them how God see's them. Perfect. I help because it is what I am supposed to do, am born to do, and am created to do. No human can live a life completely devouring everyone around them, taking everything they own and at the end of the day call that a life. Living is only met when you take everything you have and divide it among everyone else, and still at the end of the day smile because you know you have done good. This is all i live for, To make others smile, to build them up, and help them achieve greatness. Yet i can not bring myself to accept the same generosity and kindness.
Simplistically a physiologist would call all this a lie, that no human could have such distinct differences in views. A human who distrusts people would not put out a hand to help, that deep down all this is a lie because I am seeking attention in the only way i know how: Pity. I would, however, like to think people know me a little better than to think I'm one who goes on a pity parade (though i used to in my earlier years.) that is not what this is. This is a confession, one i feel is long over due.
My biggest faults are my exaggerations for laughs and gasps, and while if anything important ever comes up, i never exaggerate, it is very apparent in my day to day life that most of my stories have been twisted or blown up to make them more enjoyable. I blame that on two things, one I'm a writer, its in my characteristics to for a story that grabs people and gets their emotions into it. Secondly my childhood, and when i state this last part, it was really the need of attention that brought me to the realization that a dramatized story makes for a better tale than a plain one. While i have many (and there are many) other faults, such as laziness, and the fear of commitment (which is why i have yet to really do anything relationship wise with my life) I see exaggeration as my worst.
My biggest fear to be bluntly honest, is the inability to protect those i swore to protect. Its that simple, that the man (and i say man, but i am hardly thus) I wish to be, lacks strength, and trustworthiness to carry out those promises. In the end i feel like a kid in a corner, standing in front of the mirror trying on his fathers clothes only wishing the pants might fit some day. (and when i say father I mean those i look up to and respect, those that came before me and have proved not only their faith as a Christian, but their determination to fight no matter what)
The truth, in the end, I'm no more wiser or stronger than that of a infant, just learning to breath, to scream, to realize. Realize that this world is bigger and scarier than anything dreamed up in nightmares. and like the newborn i seek refuge back in the warmth and comfort of what i know so well. Solitude, surrounded by nothing but my thoughts.
Yes i love people, but my fear is i'm not good enough to be loved.
Monday, March 14, 2011
the end of it all.
Hello all my fellow readers, those of you who have wondered where i have been, and those of you who didn't even know i wrote. Its Monday night. I'm not only writing this after a hard day but with a broken thumb and a wounded hand.
Life seems so simple when we are smiling, happy, enjoying the little things the day brings. Nothings better than sitting down with friends over dinner, kicking back and joking with those you love. reminiscing about old times in highschool and college. In these moments nothing is out of place, nothing is wrong. It's perfect, right down to the smile on your loved one's face.
and at the same time nothing seems more complicated the moment all these things are ripped from you, torn from your life like a home up in flames. You sit there on your kitchen floor, a bottle in one hand and a pack of cigs in the other, and you think to yourself "Where did it all go?" the dinners, the parties, the jokes, your loved one? it all became a distant memory to painful to look back on and think of. Its like searching the desert for the last drop of rain that you knew had already been taken by the heat.
You smile at the mirages of old memories, even though your heart feels as if you hugged a cactus. we have all been there once, twice, and for a few of us, more than we can count. But we always keep trying, searching, longing. Loneliness fills us with grief and we still press on through the pain and seek out yet another heartbreak. All for the sake of what? LOVE? Hope? a since of security? the thought that we wont die alone, depressed, and worthless?
This world is sick, vomiting upon its own dinner plate like flies so no one else can touch their prize. a broken society where the word love only consists of a broken bed in a hotel room you rented for three hours. commitment only referring to until i feel otherwise. And here i sit, still holding my empty bottle of pain, and lifeless memories upon my crinkled pack of smokes. Hoping that maybe a spark will fly from the end and engulf not only my reality but myself within its burning flames of justice. We are sick, and we don't care.
LOVE! tell me you love me... I've asked it many a times. I like everyone else only seek for that one simple word. Tell me? does the word mean so little to the rest of you? OF COURSE NOT! When i tell someone i love them, i'm ready to fight for that word, against all odds and other words. When i say "I love you" I raise a sword in defense against a world that seeks to crush what little hope we have.
I'm not even going to finish this blog, i might, once i write the story that pertains to it. bare with me while i gather my thoughts. its been a rough week.
Life seems so simple when we are smiling, happy, enjoying the little things the day brings. Nothings better than sitting down with friends over dinner, kicking back and joking with those you love. reminiscing about old times in highschool and college. In these moments nothing is out of place, nothing is wrong. It's perfect, right down to the smile on your loved one's face.
and at the same time nothing seems more complicated the moment all these things are ripped from you, torn from your life like a home up in flames. You sit there on your kitchen floor, a bottle in one hand and a pack of cigs in the other, and you think to yourself "Where did it all go?" the dinners, the parties, the jokes, your loved one? it all became a distant memory to painful to look back on and think of. Its like searching the desert for the last drop of rain that you knew had already been taken by the heat.
You smile at the mirages of old memories, even though your heart feels as if you hugged a cactus. we have all been there once, twice, and for a few of us, more than we can count. But we always keep trying, searching, longing. Loneliness fills us with grief and we still press on through the pain and seek out yet another heartbreak. All for the sake of what? LOVE? Hope? a since of security? the thought that we wont die alone, depressed, and worthless?
This world is sick, vomiting upon its own dinner plate like flies so no one else can touch their prize. a broken society where the word love only consists of a broken bed in a hotel room you rented for three hours. commitment only referring to until i feel otherwise. And here i sit, still holding my empty bottle of pain, and lifeless memories upon my crinkled pack of smokes. Hoping that maybe a spark will fly from the end and engulf not only my reality but myself within its burning flames of justice. We are sick, and we don't care.
LOVE! tell me you love me... I've asked it many a times. I like everyone else only seek for that one simple word. Tell me? does the word mean so little to the rest of you? OF COURSE NOT! When i tell someone i love them, i'm ready to fight for that word, against all odds and other words. When i say "I love you" I raise a sword in defense against a world that seeks to crush what little hope we have.
I'm not even going to finish this blog, i might, once i write the story that pertains to it. bare with me while i gather my thoughts. its been a rough week.
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