I have been finding such odd contradictions with things of late, like my life is one big show- everyone looking in and shifting the truth, like puzzle pieces all trying to fit together, even when they don't. Is that fair? That my life is being chopped and changed by these strange clowns, each and everyone of them in their fat suits, their fake smiles... their ugly hair... Why should it be me that entertains their thoughts?
It seems as if my life is being not only the vessel in which people entertain their ideas, but almost as if my whole life for those moments is altered because of these thoughts, that my reality and how I thus percieve my reality is being altered by those thoughts, therefore-- if the people generating the thoughts are complete fuck wits- then I am a slave to my fuck witted reality and those that create it?
How will I ever know freedom?
This is either making sense, or it is not... If it is not then you will proceed to believe that I am crazy, or maybe slightly disturbed... Thus perhaps you will disregard all that you read here. I say no. I am not crazy. In fact, I challenge you to apply this mental ramble to your own life; to find the idiots that control your thoughts... Even I will admit that line sounds crazy.
However, in all seriousness (and it must be in all seriousness because I am running low on time) lets entertain the notion that there are people in your life that can read you like a book. That can play you; pull your strings and make you dance around the promenade for all their dim witted friends to point and laugh... How many have felt the sting of unrequited love and affection? For that one person you would do anything for? How many people allow their emotional attachment get in the way of the royal and painful truth? Do things they know in their heart is wrong for a person that ultimately does not care?
Have you not ever found yourself so consumed by a person, your whole world utterly immerged into there's- only to a few months, years later look back on that time and think 'What did I see in them?'. Once you don't value them anymore, you deject their ideals and beliefs that you so once cherished...
Like a great veil pulled over your eyes- where you stumble across your past memories and see a graveyard of lost potential and time, rather than happy memories and 'good old us'...
The people that we surround ourselves with ultimately effect who and how we will become that which is to be becometh of ourselves... I know this, yet I can never truly see who is who until it's too late- until the damage is done and I'm more lost and confused than I was when I sought refuge in their warm, glowing empty scrotum sack of a life... Is my issue trust? Is it ignorance?
Am I trusting the wrong people? Am I letting my pathetic attachment for the human race blind me to these truths? What am I trying to prove by all this thought? What am I trying to say by posting this on the internet?
Too much thought is placed in everything... Yes, it is thought, our conscience, psyche that divides us and the rest of the 'lower' carbon life forms... But how much do people over think these days?
I'm probably over thinking right now...
Or am I reaching out of the box and messing with how perfectly still everything seems right now just to see what will happen?
I think that (in all brutal honesty) that deep underneath this trained, polite, sweet young girl who enjoys things like getting stoned and eating cookies with milk= I am an anarchist.
I feel like I'm waking up out of a coma. That the past year I have been living the life that everyone else told me to live. Try this, take this, dance to this, appreciate this... Maybe the promise of real friends was enticing enough to drag me in... But not anymore.
I don't know what I want anymore. Maybe I'm simply confusing myself for the heck of it... Everything is too perfect now, I can't handle being happy in my life so I have to mess it up by being uncertain about what I want for my future. The end of the year is coming and decisions have to be made... I don't want to be a Naturopath... I want to be a tattoo artist. But no, it's not the safe option, I wasn't good enough to be a tattoo artist, that's what I kept telling myself.
But I am good enough! And I don't think settling for my second dream, the dream that I gave myself so that down the line I could say to the world 'Fuck you, I did it on my own anyway!' is kinda big considering if I make a mistake it will cost me $45'000 dollars...
I'm sick of 'people-pleasing' my way through life. I'm sick of smoking, I'm sick of the acid, the pills, the parties where I stop half way through and have the dawning of a life time 'What the fuck am I doing here?'
Well? What the fuck AM I doing here? What do I see myself doing in the next 20 years? I thought by the time I was 28 I wanted to be married or at least in a stable relationship, hopefully with a house of my own, slowly on the way to children with a degree under my belt and my own business set up and going quite nicely.
HOW BORING. HOW SAFE AND STUPID AND BOOOOOOORRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG.
I dont want that!
I want to be half way around the world, staying at some little beach resort, with palm trees and coconuts freshly falling to the ground. Where the only music that's made is the music played by the instruments we have with us and the only food we can get is that which we cook ourselves. I want to have a house with no walls, a bong made of bamboo and fire dances on full moons. I want to have a box of paints and pencils and special things that I take with me everywhere, and I take photos of all the new and exciting places I go. I want to speak fluent japanese and live about half hours drive from Harajuku, in some small town with no internet access... Or some pokey little apartment in a sea of apartments just like that, with the smell of smoke and ramen in the air, with a bedroom full of stupid japo-asian crap... I want my phone to have one of those dangly bell thingies, those things that every asian girl seems to have on anything and everything they can attach one too... Where I spend my days either working in a tatoo studio show casing my artistic talents or working at home from a laptop- slowly but surely writing the autobiography of my life, documenting my encounters with REAL people, not just people who believe they're outrospective because they do acid every weekend or sit around in a house pilling to the sound of oblivion.
I want to live a LIFE... One that I ACTUALLY want rather than one that is just as pleasing but much easier to obtain.
I'm sick of the people in my life that mean something to me now holding me in a dream world that will have me stay within that world because of my fears that they may not exist in the one that I create for myself. And in all this winding, long winded way of saying 'I'm afraid to follow my dreams because it may force me to abandon the ones that I love, that I'm afraid to abandon this lifestyle that I'm beginning to resent with every ounce of my being because I'm afraid that I'll loose the ones that I love' = I have also thus come to that realisation myself.
Perhaps this is the way in which I cut free from those strings, perhaps this is the catalyst piece of the puzzle that makes all those other stupid pieces make sense. I just wish that the things of my future didn't seem so far away and that the things of my past didn't still hold so much emotional control over me. I wish I didn't still see his face in everything and pretend not too.
I wish I didn't lie to myself, that my present was just a little bit EXCITING for once so that I might be able to forget about what everything ISNT right now...
I wish I wasn't so god damn crazy... I wish none of this made any sense to you, if you even exist... Why do I believe that anyone will ever find this? Read this? Understand this to a degree to which it changes their lives forever? I wish it meant something... As much as it means to me...
But it won't. And no body will read it. And even on this vast, interconnected, ever important giggamegaterrabitter world that zooms back and forth every second of every day for the rest of my life until something better or bigger or more important comes along that will wipe out this old and futile model-- I am just misunderstood, and pathetically silent and small in the grand scheme of things.
That THIS my non existent friend is what I have now invented as silent SHOUTING... It doesn't matter how hard I cry- everything in my miserable, pent up and inexpressive life will ultimately remain the same... No one hears it. No one takes it in. No one learns a thing and my dawning of a lifetime is wasted away to the emotional ramblings of a teenage idiot.
Spread Chaos... Peace is for the delinquent, and futile.
I lol'd.
ReplyDeleteYou're not an anarchist, you're a narciccist.
if you want something, make it happen instead of bitching to the world.
Carpe Jugulum.
My what long posts you have dear.
ReplyDeleteMany good points throughout. (albeit repeated often - I can tell you're used to trying to make egotists pay attention and dumber people understand).
I'm considering dropping Doctor War from the Spring issue of New Psyentist (Issue III) onwards. I might replace his section with yours (Yes! you say, there IS a god!)... but that all depends on what he does next. You see he's been avoiding me lately, and if that continues... well it's not gonna help.