I've noticed through out all my blog reading that everyone seems to have their own expression with how they write. I know that's a pretty obvious statement since everyone has their own personality. It's rather intimidating. Everyone does such a good job of stringing together their thoughts, making the whole thing both poetic and coherent. My enteries never turn out as such. They are like a cluttered diary. It feels forced like i'm trying to prove something with my writing. I guess I'm like the bad authors I've come to hate for their forcing of specific details, down to the elaborate and oh so fake, story line. Oh well.
Christmas came and went. It never seems to meet the hype that it gets. Perhaps that's must for me though. I think what kills me is my utter lack of truly being able to hold myself back from getting attached. I'm so caught up in trying to make all these memories last that I spend more time being depressed that nothigns the same instead of enjoying the precious feeling moments.
This is what I've discovered about myself. I'm a horrible flake and if you asked anyone they would agree. I bail on the simplest and least stressful things, as well as, the things that seem to matter most. You may ask why I continue to do so even though I recognize this flaw. The answer is quiet blatently that I can't help it. It's a horrible defense mechanism that I've some how built in to myself. I'm terrified of getting attached and having everything go to shit. I think for normal people this isn't such a fault, they just turn into an asshole and never let anyone get close. However, for whatever brilliant combination of God, genetics, nature, and my environment, I get attached to easily and so fast that being hurt is enevitable. I literally get sad over running into a complete stranger and never being able to see that person again. Pathetic.
On top of all this, I have some inner struggle between hating the universe and loving everything about it. This makes it completely impossible for me to be anything but briefly happy. I live a tortured cycle of A) being depressed because nothing stays the same and everything changes, B) I recognize A and try to avoid it, C) fail miserably at B and end back at A.
Thus, the only control I feel have over myself and of time is to flake or try to hold myself back. I realize the irony of this because it costs me alot of fun experiences. What's more painful in the grand scheme of things though? When we look back in reflection of our lives, we remember either our happy moments or our sad moments. Both of these are usually painful. Either because we can't change what made us sad or because we no longer can experience our happy ones (we can't relive them). Rarely, do we ever remember the nights spent sitting alone in our rooms playing xbox. So now I've convinced myself the only true way of not being miserable in the future is to not do anything in the present. It'll backfire.
So, this, like most of my problems all comes about because of one thing. I think too much. It's great because it saves me alot of hassel but at the same time it continuely effs me over so hard I feel like I've just taken two different showers in prison. My poor ass.
Christmas came and went. It never seems to meet the hype that it gets. Perhaps that's must for me though. I think what kills me is my utter lack of truly being able to hold myself back from getting attached. I'm so caught up in trying to make all these memories last that I spend more time being depressed that nothigns the same instead of enjoying the precious feeling moments.
This is what I've discovered about myself. I'm a horrible flake and if you asked anyone they would agree. I bail on the simplest and least stressful things, as well as, the things that seem to matter most. You may ask why I continue to do so even though I recognize this flaw. The answer is quiet blatently that I can't help it. It's a horrible defense mechanism that I've some how built in to myself. I'm terrified of getting attached and having everything go to shit. I think for normal people this isn't such a fault, they just turn into an asshole and never let anyone get close. However, for whatever brilliant combination of God, genetics, nature, and my environment, I get attached to easily and so fast that being hurt is enevitable. I literally get sad over running into a complete stranger and never being able to see that person again. Pathetic.
On top of all this, I have some inner struggle between hating the universe and loving everything about it. This makes it completely impossible for me to be anything but briefly happy. I live a tortured cycle of A) being depressed because nothing stays the same and everything changes, B) I recognize A and try to avoid it, C) fail miserably at B and end back at A.
Thus, the only control I feel have over myself and of time is to flake or try to hold myself back. I realize the irony of this because it costs me alot of fun experiences. What's more painful in the grand scheme of things though? When we look back in reflection of our lives, we remember either our happy moments or our sad moments. Both of these are usually painful. Either because we can't change what made us sad or because we no longer can experience our happy ones (we can't relive them). Rarely, do we ever remember the nights spent sitting alone in our rooms playing xbox. So now I've convinced myself the only true way of not being miserable in the future is to not do anything in the present. It'll backfire.
So, this, like most of my problems all comes about because of one thing. I think too much. It's great because it saves me alot of hassel but at the same time it continuely effs me over so hard I feel like I've just taken two different showers in prison. My poor ass.
I guess this just makes it all the more obvious to recognize that life is fleeting, beautiful, and utterly tragic. That is why we connect with art that reminds us of ourselves. We hope that in some small way that our memories and tragic existence last in some small way. Whether it's a book, a song, a movie, a painting, or a picture, or any medium of art. Hell, that's why we blog.
So, what do I learn from all this after writing it down in a brief entry that doesn't possibly touch the inner turmoil and effed up life I think I live? That I seriously want to have some significance in life. I want the fact that I used to race Big Wheels around my neighborhood with my next year neighbor to matter. I want the morning I woke up to find my dog Sunny died to make a mark somewhere. I want the lunch that I spent reading Cold Sassy Tree alone on the football stadium bleachers to be a defining event in the vast infinity of time..... to sum it all up
Time: Isn't it a Bitch?
So, what do I learn from all this after writing it down in a brief entry that doesn't possibly touch the inner turmoil and effed up life I think I live? That I seriously want to have some significance in life. I want the fact that I used to race Big Wheels around my neighborhood with my next year neighbor to matter. I want the morning I woke up to find my dog Sunny died to make a mark somewhere. I want the lunch that I spent reading Cold Sassy Tree alone on the football stadium bleachers to be a defining event in the vast infinity of time..... to sum it all up
Time: Isn't it a Bitch?
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