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"Speech for the Lonely - Story"

Hey there. Heh. Looking tired, you should get some rest.

I'm worried, you know. I'm scared, and I'm worried. I keep trying to escape... what? Commit suicide? No, not... You know? Life is tough, goes around and stuff, but that's why we live it. Guess we're not meant to get bored, I suppose. I understand that now, and it's good.

But... I... well. It's not that I drink. I hardly ever drink... I, you know, go out with friends sometimes, have a laugh... but... brave faces. Thousands of brave faces, brave masks really. Why? Because we're all lonely.

Sure, ask me then, when I was singing on the tables with a girl in each arm if I was lonely, and you'd get a joyous negative responce, I'm sure. Highs and all. Seem to affect us somehow, in this strange way that I don't understand.

I don't do drugs, but you can see the high and low thing... well, that's chemical... but sometimes, I kinda think that works in real life too. Someone on drugs won't have a care in the world. That's what I mean when I escape. Happiness isn't happiness until you're forfilled. And how can you ever truly know you are?... Well. You just are, I suppose, and that's it. You mature. You become the person that you're going to happy being for the rest of your life.

Maybe that's it. You can be happy being you. You can be proud to be you.

So perhaps that IS it. When you can relax. Knock everything down, be thoughtful, happy, not hide... just... be happy.

And the thing that really scares me... the person, the person that's absolutely perfect for me, is going through the same thing. I can't do anything, and well... I... just feel kinda useless. I just hope they're able to cope.

I worry. Maybe they've given up, and escaped into drugs, drink... maybe they've attached themselves to a boyfriend that beats her, because she's trying to hide from the fact that she hasn't found me yet.

Strange thing to say, I know... but I know she's out there. I've never met her, well, I don't think I have, but that's not the point. She's there. I just hope she's ok. I do care for her... I mean, I know she can cope on her own... hopefully... but, hell... it's... I worry.

I can cope. Seriously, I'm fine... I can smile to myself, because, you know? In the end, it's going to be fine. We just have to live through these little bits in life, all the escapes, all the hiding and... *sighs* But I miss her. Not because I need her... but because she just makes me smile. She makes me me. Just like what happens on tv. Maybe.

But the point is, I'm just happy when I think of her. I don't really think about her that often... I mean, I have my ways, my plans, my future. She has hers too. My future doesn't revolve around her, and vise versa.

It's... just going to be a long wait. I don't want someone to care for, to have to pick up each time... I don't need someone to pick me up each time either... I can do that, she can do that. We're strong. We are.

Yet, here I am again, locking myself away and listening to music, singing along and pretending I can go and talk with the person I can laugh and joke not because I'm escaping but because I'm happy... someone that can naturally make me laugh, naturally make me smile, by just doing what they've been wanting to do all their life... be themself.

And that's why I get angry sometimes. That's why I just lose it... because I have to lie, I have to... because I'm too f**king weak to cope on my own. I need my comforts, or I guess... well... I wouldn't be able to do anything at all.

And I need them... because then I'd never do anything, I'd never get anything. I'm weak, yeah, I'm weak... but... well... at least I can admit to it. At least I still have that strength.

For what's left? If we paint, what would happen to us if we chopped your hands off? If we sing, what would happen if we lost our voice? Could anyone live without the things they escape to? Is that just what life is about? Escape?

Escape from death? But I don't fear it... well, not anymore at least. What would become of the porn star if you cut his knob off? He'd probably expect nobody would ever love him. Actually, he'd probably convince himself that his tongue is all he needs, or something.

There are no real leaders in life. No real teachers, no real people that can say they know exactly how to live, exactly how to go about things, and exactly what you need. Nobody can tell you what you need but you. But we do lie to ourselves sometimes. And that worries me. Because we're building a wall around us, instead of a wall to sit on.

Are my bricks the same as everyone elses? Who knows. Probably quite a few people think the same way. I hope they're all ok.

I make myself smile at how much I care for people now though... I never... well, it's... I used to hate people so much, but now, it's so easy to see... we really are just all so pathetic. We work so hard at each other, because we can't understand who we are, and what we really need. And I guess, the more we lie to ourselves, the bigger the shock we're going to need to knock us to the floor.

Because that's all life is, I suppose. You get knocked down. You get up. The quicker you learn, the faster you can do it.

The thing that also worries me... is how some people try to make excuses. It's too late for me. I'm too old. You don't know the pain...

This isn't a "hey, work hard enough and one day you'll be like me"... thing... because we are ALL weak. We are ALL pathetic, we are ALL utterly, utterly useless. Sometimes.

Just... never give up hope. It's there, it's still in you... it's in us all. Maybe it does need mouth to mouth, but it'll never truly die... Maybe it DOES need that kick start, maybe it DOES need the kiss that it desires... but for to block yourself up, to close part of your mind... to stop yourself because of something that sticks with you... we don't learn from the bad things that people are evil, that people are disgusting... people are just confused. Hell, we all are. We find roads that seem solid at the time, and then? We'll lose it again. We'll get depressed.

Because you know? The only real thing in life? The only thing you can be -utterly- that's not just forcing you to hide further away? The only thing you can trust that won't force you to turn to women, drink, drugs, smoking, films, music, whatever you need to escape... The only thing? Friends. That's what you can trust. Friends. Because if someone can love you for being who you are, not something you have to pretend to be, so everyone else can be happy and admire you, not the smiling giggling schoolchild that everyone thinks is insane... no... just you. The little things that pop into your head. Listen, speak, talk, love.

Because if you're never yourself, how can people ever truly love you? Does it matter how many friends you have? Does it really? You can be lonely with thousands of friends, but with one friend? One really close one? You'll hardly ever be lonely. Imagine two really close ones. Three. Four. Imagine a group of you, all so close, and all love each other for who they were, instead of hating each other for the masks they put up... because that's the only real reason people hate each other. They put these wonderful masks up. These things that I don't really understand, and I don't think I ever will.

But you know? This is just me. I'm talking. This is me. Can someone love me for this? To be utterly open? To talk about the things?

Because maybe, just maybe, we all feel this way. And maybe, just maybe, the people that don't believe they do, have lied so often to themselves, that they're utterly convinced they don't need anything. Because they pretend, each and every day, that they're not weak. But we all are.

I'm going to go eat now. Thanks for listening, again. Really.

Hey there. Heh. Looking tired, you should get some rest.

I'm worried, you know. I'm scared, and I'm worried. I keep trying to escape... what? Commit suicide? No, not... You know? Life is tough, goes around and stuff, but that's why we live it. Guess we're not meant to get bored, I suppose. I understand that now, and it's good.

But... I... well. It's not that I drink. I hardly ever drink... I, you know, go out with friends sometimes, have a laugh... but... brave faces. Thousands of brave faces, brave masks really. Why? Because we're all lonely.

Sure, ask me then, when I was singing on the tables with a girl in each arm if I was lonely, and you'd get a joyous negative responce, I'm sure. Highs and all. Seem to affect us somehow, in this strange way that I don't understand.

I don't do drugs, but you can see the high and low thing... well, that's chemical... but sometimes, I kinda think that works in real life too. Someone on drugs won't have a care in the world. That's what I mean when I escape. Happiness isn't happiness until you're forfilled. And how can you ever truly know you are?... Well. You just are, I suppose, and that's it. You mature. You become the person that you're going to happy being for the rest of your life.

Maybe that's it. You can be happy being you. You can be proud to be you.

So perhaps that IS it. When you can relax. Knock everything down, be thoughtful, happy, not hide... just... be happy.

And the thing that really scares me... the person, the person that's absolutely perfect for me, is going through the same thing. I can't do anything, and well... I... just feel kinda useless. I just hope they're able to cope.

I worry. Maybe they've given up, and escaped into drugs, drink... maybe they've attached themselves to a boyfriend that beats her, because she's trying to hide from the fact that she hasn't found me yet.

Strange thing to say, I know... but I know she's out there. I've never met her, well, I don't think I have, but that's not the point. She's there. I just hope she's ok. I do care for her... I mean, I know she can cope on her own... hopefully... but, hell... it's... I worry.

I can cope. Seriously, I'm fine... I can smile to myself, because, you know? In the end, it's going to be fine. We just have to live through these little bits in life, all the escapes, all the hiding and... *sighs* But I miss her. Not because I need her... but because she just makes me smile. She makes me me. Just like what happens on tv. Maybe.

But the point is, I'm just happy when I think of her. I don't really think about her that often... I mean, I have my ways, my plans, my future. She has hers too. My future doesn't revolve around her, and vise versa.

It's... just going to be a long wait. I don't want someone to care for, to have to pick up each time... I don't need someone to pick me up each time either... I can do that, she can do that. We're strong. We are.

Yet, here I am again, locking myself away and listening to music, singing along and pretending I can go and talk with the person I can laugh and joke not because I'm escaping but because I'm happy... someone that can naturally make me laugh, naturally make me smile, by just doing what they've been wanting to do all their life... be themself.

And that's why I get angry sometimes. That's why I just lose it... because I have to lie, I have to... because I'm too f**king weak to cope on my own. I need my comforts, or I guess... well... I wouldn't be able to do anything at all.

And I need them... because then I'd never do anything, I'd never get anything. I'm weak, yeah, I'm weak... but... well... at least I can admit to it. At least I still have that strength.

For what's left? If we paint, what would happen to us if we chopped your hands off? If we sing, what would happen if we lost our voice? Could anyone live without the things they escape to? Is that just what life is about? Escape?

Escape from death? But I don't fear it... well, not anymore at least. What would become of the porn star if you cut his knob off? He'd probably expect nobody would ever love him. Actually, he'd probably convince himself that his tongue is all he needs, or something.

There are no real leaders in life. No real teachers, no real people that can say they know exactly how to live, exactly how to go about things, and exactly what you need. Nobody can tell you what you need but you. But we do lie to ourselves sometimes. And that worries me. Because we're building a wall around us, instead of a wall to sit on.

Are my bricks the same as everyone elses? Who knows. Probably quite a few people think the same way. I hope they're all ok.

I make myself smile at how much I care for people now though... I never... well, it's... I used to hate people so much, but now, it's so easy to see... we really are just all so pathetic. We work so hard at each other, because we can't understand who we are, and what we really need. And I guess, the more we lie to ourselves, the bigger the shock we're going to need to knock us to the floor.

Because that's all life is, I suppose. You get knocked down. You get up. The quicker you learn, the faster you can do it.

The thing that also worries me... is how some people try to make excuses. It's too late for me. I'm too old. You don't know the pain...

This isn't a "hey, work hard enough and one day you'll be like me"... thing... because we are ALL weak. We are ALL pathetic, we are ALL utterly, utterly useless. Sometimes.

Just... never give up hope. It's there, it's still in you... it's in us all. Maybe it does need mouth to mouth, but it'll never truly die... Maybe it DOES need that kick start, maybe it DOES need the kiss that it desires... but for to block yourself up, to close part of your mind... to stop yourself because of something that sticks with you... we don't learn from the bad things that people are evil, that people are disgusting... people are just confused. Hell, we all are. We find roads that seem solid at the time, and then? We'll lose it again. We'll get depressed.

Because you know? The only real thing in life? The only thing you can be -utterly- that's not just forcing you to hide further away? The only thing you can trust that won't force you to turn to women, drink, drugs, smoking, films, music, whatever you need to escape... The only thing? Friends. That's what you can trust. Friends. Because if someone can love you for being who you are, not something you have to pretend to be, so everyone else can be happy and admire you, not the smiling giggling schoolchild that everyone thinks is insane... no... just you. The little things that pop into your head. Listen, speak, talk, love.

Because if you're never yourself, how can people ever truly love you? Does it matter how many friends you have? Does it really? You can be lonely with thousands of friends, but with one friend? One really close one? You'll hardly ever be lonely. Imagine two really close ones. Three. Four. Imagine a group of you, all so close, and all love each other for who they were, instead of hating each other for the masks they put up... because that's the only real reason people hate each other. They put these wonderful masks up. These things that I don't really understand, and I don't think I ever will.

But you know? This is just me. I'm talking. This is me. Can someone love me for this? To be utterly open? To talk about the things?

Because maybe, just maybe, we all feel this way. And maybe, just maybe, the people that don't believe they do, have lied so often to themselves, that they're utterly convinced they don't need anything. Because they pretend, each and every day, that they're not weak. But we all are.

I'm going to go eat now. Thanks for listening, again. Really.