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I've never done anything like this before. I normally don't tell how I feel. But I just sat here and thought 'let's spread my thoughts for all to see', for one time in history. And here they are.
-
There's a clock sitting in the corner. I can hear small chrome balls fall upon each other as ambient music plays into my ears and people around the house silently sleep, unaware, unknowing, of me being here. An eery thought, to think I sit alone, quietly, with headphones round my ears and music without lyrics, and containing only the beauty of the composure to amuse me through the hours of the early morning. It seems to me the simple pleasures are what counts in this life, nothing else. As I sit here typing this, I contemplate my future : an vivid light of hope in a distant land, or another life taken by the vicious cycle of simple routine. I don't want to be normal, I can't be normal. I must do something different, something special. Something to make what I can be and what I will be.
It's hard for me to understand right now, but something needs unleashed. I can fell it burning inside, a burst of creativity, waiting silently for me to learn how to express it. But as of yet? I can't. The music I listen to only fuels this desire as I sit her in my chair and wonder : what could of been? What could of been If I hadn't called her? What could have been if they hadn't said that? What could of been if they had? So many questions, and they'll have to wait for the moment, the precise point in time in which they should be asked. And when is this? I don't know, I'm not sure. They're goes the clock again.
I ponder over my life ... is it worth it? For every minute of joy and laughter, there are two of pain and suffering, of a desire to fight for myself and a loathing of argument, I love of making criticism but a deep passion of hatred towards recieving it. I feel trapped within myself ... is this normal? How can I live my life felling as if it's a battle I can't win, if it's a challenge I cannot overcome? The fear I feel when I approach confrontatation over the smallest of things, surely this isn't natural or normal? It can't be.. Am I not meant to like arguments? Is Paul not 'the argumentative one'. I don't believe so, but hey, who am I to judge, I'm only me.
The friends I have ... how can I call them that in they way they treat me, and more worryingly, in the way I treat them? Surely that reflects upon what our relationships in life are based on. How can once such relationship be based upon the principals of mocking and teasing ... they can't, that's how (or rather, how not). Will I lead a life in where all my realtionships follow this pattern, where I use these natural defence mechanisms to a new limit. I am just hiding behind these words to protect the real me from the harshness that would, and will, face me when I wake to my call, and realise, amongst the pressures and strains, life's not so bad after all. How can it be, with other people surviving in their own way, a developed sense of security in their own words, how they act, and more importantly, how they are percieved by other people..
But is that really more important to me? Do I take too much interest in what other people think of me and how I act rather than what I think about how I act and feel? More than likely, but the paranoia that sets in from not knowing about what people say about you is so great, how can what others percieve you as be unimportant ... surely it must be vital to staying sane in a world where back-stabbing is common and friends are in fact quite the opposite, and along with themselves, they are worst enemies.
I seem paranoid of what others think, although I know that even the harshest criticism cannot penetrate my shell. But underneath it all, I'm weak, and tired, and all the worry. I used to cry myself to sleep, knowing the next day would be a living hell, a torture, but through it all, I survived. And I survived on my own. I told no-one of my pain, and through this I simply developed a shield which now seems to not only avoid criticism, but has dumbed my senses to know just reality, but to emotion. I can't feel about what others feel. I don't cry at funerals..I don't always laugh when something is funny. And that isn't because I don't find it funny, sure I do, it's because I'm exposing myself to a reality I've hidden away from for so many years.
And now it seems the shell is cracking. Can I regain feelings of love after being shattered twice by the same person? Can I give myself, my all to someone without being destroyed once again? Not yet, I can't. I felt bad on the 14th, not only because nothing happened good, but because so much bad happened. How can my friends be that when they hurt me with every word, damage me with gestures and hit me where it hurts simply by saying things in the most negative way possible ... Surely I should be able to cope, retailiate? No, I can't. Not any more, the words of strength or not strength of will or power, but those of evil. I must be able to change how I think, if not how I feel, somehow.
I feel so many things as I write this, I'm noticing how my hate of things so irrelevant its ridiculous overwhelms my love of things. And my hatred of things now are, ironically, the things I loved as a 'child'. But am I not still a child now ... or have I grown up far too quickly? From an early age, I planned, I organised, and I'd even say I was bossy. Recently? I try and let others do it, avoiding my child-like urge to comment on how someone does something or tell them how to do it better. I'm quite sure that's rather patronising, and being me, I'd know how I'd feel If someone did it to me. Maybe they do, I'm not sure. I wonder if they all realise how much I hurt inside when they say they talk about me, or tell me I don't care about anything but myself or money. Maybe it's all true, maybe I am low and worthless. I've yet to live my life to the full, and only time will tell.
I remember wanting to be an 'accountant' when I was younger.. that can't be normal for an 8 year old!?!? How can I have grown up in such a way different to my brothers and sister when the same parenting was used.. why does my brother hate me so and why does my sister feel such an urge to defend herself in front of me. She seems to have the same shell as I do, if not quite as extreme, but it's their. My brothers? One has never liked me, and I have a feeling he never will. He struggled in the early years of his schooling, and my raving ambition to do well has led me over him academically. Sure, this is great, but has ridiculous repercussions. I have friends - but nowhere near as many as him - and a don't even have the brotherly love of which I so desperately desire. A 'Hello', a 'Goodbye', something to make me feel as if he knows me, not just a stranger whom he has never met.
I guess thats my life though, and I'm too far in for to change. It's far to easy to set yourself into ways, routine and moreso into a sterotype. And I feel I've wasted myself by falling into all 3, the third most. And the worst thing? It's nigh on impossible to drag yourself out any of these social and psychological pits once you've gone so deep.
And I believe I have.
I've never done anything like this before. I normally don't tell how I feel. But I just sat here and thought 'let's spread my thoughts for all to see', for one time in history. And here they are.
-
There's a clock sitting in the corner. I can hear small chrome balls fall upon each other as ambient music plays into my ears and people around the house silently sleep, unaware, unknowing, of me being here. An eery thought, to think I sit alone, quietly, with headphones round my ears and music without lyrics, and containing only the beauty of the composure to amuse me through the hours of the early morning. It seems to me the simple pleasures are what counts in this life, nothing else. As I sit here typing this, I contemplate my future : an vivid light of hope in a distant land, or another life taken by the vicious cycle of simple routine. I don't want to be normal, I can't be normal. I must do something different, something special. Something to make what I can be and what I will be.
It's hard for me to understand right now, but something needs unleashed. I can fell it burning inside, a burst of creativity, waiting silently for me to learn how to express it. But as of yet? I can't. The music I listen to only fuels this desire as I sit her in my chair and wonder : what could of been? What could of been If I hadn't called her? What could have been if they hadn't said that? What could of been if they had? So many questions, and they'll have to wait for the moment, the precise point in time in which they should be asked. And when is this? I don't know, I'm not sure. They're goes the clock again.
I ponder over my life ... is it worth it? For every minute of joy and laughter, there are two of pain and suffering, of a desire to fight for myself and a loathing of argument, I love of making criticism but a deep passion of hatred towards recieving it. I feel trapped within myself ... is this normal? How can I live my life felling as if it's a battle I can't win, if it's a challenge I cannot overcome? The fear I feel when I approach confrontatation over the smallest of things, surely this isn't natural or normal? It can't be.. Am I not meant to like arguments? Is Paul not 'the argumentative one'. I don't believe so, but hey, who am I to judge, I'm only me.
The friends I have ... how can I call them that in they way they treat me, and more worryingly, in the way I treat them? Surely that reflects upon what our relationships in life are based on. How can once such relationship be based upon the principals of mocking and teasing ... they can't, that's how (or rather, how not). Will I lead a life in where all my realtionships follow this pattern, where I use these natural defence mechanisms to a new limit. I am just hiding behind these words to protect the real me from the harshness that would, and will, face me when I wake to my call, and realise, amongst the pressures and strains, life's not so bad after all. How can it be, with other people surviving in their own way, a developed sense of security in their own words, how they act, and more importantly, how they are percieved by other people..
But is that really more important to me? Do I take too much interest in what other people think of me and how I act rather than what I think about how I act and feel? More than likely, but the paranoia that sets in from not knowing about what people say about you is so great, how can what others percieve you as be unimportant ... surely it must be vital to staying sane in a world where back-stabbing is common and friends are in fact quite the opposite, and along with themselves, they are worst enemies.
I seem paranoid of what others think, although I know that even the harshest criticism cannot penetrate my shell. But underneath it all, I'm weak, and tired, and all the worry. I used to cry myself to sleep, knowing the next day would be a living hell, a torture, but through it all, I survived. And I survived on my own. I told no-one of my pain, and through this I simply developed a shield which now seems to not only avoid criticism, but has dumbed my senses to know just reality, but to emotion. I can't feel about what others feel. I don't cry at funerals..I don't always laugh when something is funny. And that isn't because I don't find it funny, sure I do, it's because I'm exposing myself to a reality I've hidden away from for so many years.
And now it seems the shell is cracking. Can I regain feelings of love after being shattered twice by the same person? Can I give myself, my all to someone without being destroyed once again? Not yet, I can't. I felt bad on the 14th, not only because nothing happened good, but because so much bad happened. How can my friends be that when they hurt me with every word, damage me with gestures and hit me where it hurts simply by saying things in the most negative way possible ... Surely I should be able to cope, retailiate? No, I can't. Not any more, the words of strength or not strength of will or power, but those of evil. I must be able to change how I think, if not how I feel, somehow.
I feel so many things as I write this, I'm noticing how my hate of things so irrelevant its ridiculous overwhelms my love of things. And my hatred of things now are, ironically, the things I loved as a 'child'. But am I not still a child now ... or have I grown up far too quickly? From an early age, I planned, I organised, and I'd even say I was bossy. Recently? I try and let others do it, avoiding my child-like urge to comment on how someone does something or tell them how to do it better. I'm quite sure that's rather patronising, and being me, I'd know how I'd feel If someone did it to me. Maybe they do, I'm not sure. I wonder if they all realise how much I hurt inside when they say they talk about me, or tell me I don't care about anything but myself or money. Maybe it's all true, maybe I am low and worthless. I've yet to live my life to the full, and only time will tell.
I remember wanting to be an 'accountant' when I was younger.. that can't be normal for an 8 year old!?!? How can I have grown up in such a way different to my brothers and sister when the same parenting was used.. why does my brother hate me so and why does my sister feel such an urge to defend herself in front of me. She seems to have the same shell as I do, if not quite as extreme, but it's their. My brothers? One has never liked me, and I have a feeling he never will. He struggled in the early years of his schooling, and my raving ambition to do well has led me over him academically. Sure, this is great, but has ridiculous repercussions. I have friends - but nowhere near as many as him - and a don't even have the brotherly love of which I so desperately desire. A 'Hello', a 'Goodbye', something to make me feel as if he knows me, not just a stranger whom he has never met.
I guess thats my life though, and I'm too far in for to change. It's far to easy to set yourself into ways, routine and moreso into a sterotype. And I feel I've wasted myself by falling into all 3, the third most. And the worst thing? It's nigh on impossible to drag yourself out any of these social and psychological pits once you've gone so deep.
And I believe I have.
Page:
I'm not sure what to say... heh... I just wish I could read more things like that. It's kinda funny, because I want to say that you're not alone in thinking you're a stereotype...
I seem to get into the habit of truly believing I'm supposed to be lonely. But it's mostly because I don't let anyone see me.
I really need to tear everything down.
I'm getting so close to doing so.
I seem to get into the habit of truly believing I'm supposed to be lonely. But it's mostly because I don't let anyone see me.
I really need to tear everything down.
I'm getting so close to doing so.
-
I've never done anything like this before. I normally don't tell how I feel. But I just sat here and thought 'let's spread my thoughts for all to see', for one time in history. And here they are.
-
There's a clock sitting in the corner. I can hear small chrome balls fall upon each other as ambient music plays into my ears and people around the house silently sleep, unaware, unknowing, of me being here. An eery thought, to think I sit alone, quietly, with headphones round my ears and music without lyrics, and containing only the beauty of the composure to amuse me through the hours of the early morning. It seems to me the simple pleasures are what counts in this life, nothing else. As I sit here typing this, I contemplate my future : an vivid light of hope in a distant land, or another life taken by the vicious cycle of simple routine. I don't want to be normal, I can't be normal. I must do something different, something special. Something to make what I can be and what I will be.
It's hard for me to understand right now, but something needs unleashed. I can fell it burning inside, a burst of creativity, waiting silently for me to learn how to express it. But as of yet? I can't. The music I listen to only fuels this desire as I sit her in my chair and wonder : what could of been? What could of been If I hadn't called her? What could have been if they hadn't said that? What could of been if they had? So many questions, and they'll have to wait for the moment, the precise point in time in which they should be asked. And when is this? I don't know, I'm not sure. They're goes the clock again.
I ponder over my life ... is it worth it? For every minute of joy and laughter, there are two of pain and suffering, of a desire to fight for myself and a loathing of argument, I love of making criticism but a deep passion of hatred towards recieving it. I feel trapped within myself ... is this normal? How can I live my life felling as if it's a battle I can't win, if it's a challenge I cannot overcome? The fear I feel when I approach confrontatation over the smallest of things, surely this isn't natural or normal? It can't be.. Am I not meant to like arguments? Is Paul not 'the argumentative one'. I don't believe so, but hey, who am I to judge, I'm only me.
The friends I have ... how can I call them that in they way they treat me, and more worryingly, in the way I treat them? Surely that reflects upon what our relationships in life are based on. How can once such relationship be based upon the principals of mocking and teasing ... they can't, that's how (or rather, how not). Will I lead a life in where all my realtionships follow this pattern, where I use these natural defence mechanisms to a new limit. I am just hiding behind these words to protect the real me from the harshness that would, and will, face me when I wake to my call, and realise, amongst the pressures and strains, life's not so bad after all. How can it be, with other people surviving in their own way, a developed sense of security in their own words, how they act, and more importantly, how they are percieved by other people..
But is that really more important to me? Do I take too much interest in what other people think of me and how I act rather than what I think about how I act and feel? More than likely, but the paranoia that sets in from not knowing about what people say about you is so great, how can what others percieve you as be unimportant ... surely it must be vital to staying sane in a world where back-stabbing is common and friends are in fact quite the opposite, and along with themselves, they are worst enemies.
I seem paranoid of what others think, although I know that even the harshest criticism cannot penetrate my shell. But underneath it all, I'm weak, and tired, and all the worry. I used to cry myself to sleep, knowing the next day would be a living hell, a torture, but through it all, I survived. And I survived on my own. I told no-one of my pain, and through this I simply developed a shield which now seems to not only avoid criticism, but has dumbed my senses to know just reality, but to emotion. I can't feel about what others feel. I don't cry at funerals..I don't always laugh when something is funny. And that isn't because I don't find it funny, sure I do, it's because I'm exposing myself to a reality I've hidden away from for so many years.
And now it seems the shell is cracking. Can I regain feelings of love after being shattered twice by the same person? Can I give myself, my all to someone without being destroyed once again? Not yet, I can't. I felt bad on the 14th, not only because nothing happened good, but because so much bad happened. How can my friends be that when they hurt me with every word, damage me with gestures and hit me where it hurts simply by saying things in the most negative way possible ... Surely I should be able to cope, retailiate? No, I can't. Not any more, the words of strength or not strength of will or power, but those of evil. I must be able to change how I think, if not how I feel, somehow.
I feel so many things as I write this, I'm noticing how my hate of things so irrelevant its ridiculous overwhelms my love of things. And my hatred of things now are, ironically, the things I loved as a 'child'. But am I not still a child now ... or have I grown up far too quickly? From an early age, I planned, I organised, and I'd even say I was bossy. Recently? I try and let others do it, avoiding my child-like urge to comment on how someone does something or tell them how to do it better. I'm quite sure that's rather patronising, and being me, I'd know how I'd feel If someone did it to me. Maybe they do, I'm not sure. I wonder if they all realise how much I hurt inside when they say they talk about me, or tell me I don't care about anything but myself or money. Maybe it's all true, maybe I am low and worthless. I've yet to live my life to the full, and only time will tell.
I remember wanting to be an 'accountant' when I was younger.. that can't be normal for an 8 year old!?!? How can I have grown up in such a way different to my brothers and sister when the same parenting was used.. why does my brother hate me so and why does my sister feel such an urge to defend herself in front of me. She seems to have the same shell as I do, if not quite as extreme, but it's their. My brothers? One has never liked me, and I have a feeling he never will. He struggled in the early years of his schooling, and my raving ambition to do well has led me over him academically. Sure, this is great, but has ridiculous repercussions. I have friends - but nowhere near as many as him - and a don't even have the brotherly love of which I so desperately desire. A 'Hello', a 'Goodbye', something to make me feel as if he knows me, not just a stranger whom he has never met.
I guess thats my life though, and I'm too far in for to change. It's far to easy to set yourself into ways, routine and moreso into a sterotype. And I feel I've wasted myself by falling into all 3, the third most. And the worst thing? It's nigh on impossible to drag yourself out any of these social and psychological pits once you've gone so deep.
And I believe I have.
I've never done anything like this before. I normally don't tell how I feel. But I just sat here and thought 'let's spread my thoughts for all to see', for one time in history. And here they are.
-
There's a clock sitting in the corner. I can hear small chrome balls fall upon each other as ambient music plays into my ears and people around the house silently sleep, unaware, unknowing, of me being here. An eery thought, to think I sit alone, quietly, with headphones round my ears and music without lyrics, and containing only the beauty of the composure to amuse me through the hours of the early morning. It seems to me the simple pleasures are what counts in this life, nothing else. As I sit here typing this, I contemplate my future : an vivid light of hope in a distant land, or another life taken by the vicious cycle of simple routine. I don't want to be normal, I can't be normal. I must do something different, something special. Something to make what I can be and what I will be.
It's hard for me to understand right now, but something needs unleashed. I can fell it burning inside, a burst of creativity, waiting silently for me to learn how to express it. But as of yet? I can't. The music I listen to only fuels this desire as I sit her in my chair and wonder : what could of been? What could of been If I hadn't called her? What could have been if they hadn't said that? What could of been if they had? So many questions, and they'll have to wait for the moment, the precise point in time in which they should be asked. And when is this? I don't know, I'm not sure. They're goes the clock again.
I ponder over my life ... is it worth it? For every minute of joy and laughter, there are two of pain and suffering, of a desire to fight for myself and a loathing of argument, I love of making criticism but a deep passion of hatred towards recieving it. I feel trapped within myself ... is this normal? How can I live my life felling as if it's a battle I can't win, if it's a challenge I cannot overcome? The fear I feel when I approach confrontatation over the smallest of things, surely this isn't natural or normal? It can't be.. Am I not meant to like arguments? Is Paul not 'the argumentative one'. I don't believe so, but hey, who am I to judge, I'm only me.
The friends I have ... how can I call them that in they way they treat me, and more worryingly, in the way I treat them? Surely that reflects upon what our relationships in life are based on. How can once such relationship be based upon the principals of mocking and teasing ... they can't, that's how (or rather, how not). Will I lead a life in where all my realtionships follow this pattern, where I use these natural defence mechanisms to a new limit. I am just hiding behind these words to protect the real me from the harshness that would, and will, face me when I wake to my call, and realise, amongst the pressures and strains, life's not so bad after all. How can it be, with other people surviving in their own way, a developed sense of security in their own words, how they act, and more importantly, how they are percieved by other people..
But is that really more important to me? Do I take too much interest in what other people think of me and how I act rather than what I think about how I act and feel? More than likely, but the paranoia that sets in from not knowing about what people say about you is so great, how can what others percieve you as be unimportant ... surely it must be vital to staying sane in a world where back-stabbing is common and friends are in fact quite the opposite, and along with themselves, they are worst enemies.
I seem paranoid of what others think, although I know that even the harshest criticism cannot penetrate my shell. But underneath it all, I'm weak, and tired, and all the worry. I used to cry myself to sleep, knowing the next day would be a living hell, a torture, but through it all, I survived. And I survived on my own. I told no-one of my pain, and through this I simply developed a shield which now seems to not only avoid criticism, but has dumbed my senses to know just reality, but to emotion. I can't feel about what others feel. I don't cry at funerals..I don't always laugh when something is funny. And that isn't because I don't find it funny, sure I do, it's because I'm exposing myself to a reality I've hidden away from for so many years.
And now it seems the shell is cracking. Can I regain feelings of love after being shattered twice by the same person? Can I give myself, my all to someone without being destroyed once again? Not yet, I can't. I felt bad on the 14th, not only because nothing happened good, but because so much bad happened. How can my friends be that when they hurt me with every word, damage me with gestures and hit me where it hurts simply by saying things in the most negative way possible ... Surely I should be able to cope, retailiate? No, I can't. Not any more, the words of strength or not strength of will or power, but those of evil. I must be able to change how I think, if not how I feel, somehow.
I feel so many things as I write this, I'm noticing how my hate of things so irrelevant its ridiculous overwhelms my love of things. And my hatred of things now are, ironically, the things I loved as a 'child'. But am I not still a child now ... or have I grown up far too quickly? From an early age, I planned, I organised, and I'd even say I was bossy. Recently? I try and let others do it, avoiding my child-like urge to comment on how someone does something or tell them how to do it better. I'm quite sure that's rather patronising, and being me, I'd know how I'd feel If someone did it to me. Maybe they do, I'm not sure. I wonder if they all realise how much I hurt inside when they say they talk about me, or tell me I don't care about anything but myself or money. Maybe it's all true, maybe I am low and worthless. I've yet to live my life to the full, and only time will tell.
I remember wanting to be an 'accountant' when I was younger.. that can't be normal for an 8 year old!?!? How can I have grown up in such a way different to my brothers and sister when the same parenting was used.. why does my brother hate me so and why does my sister feel such an urge to defend herself in front of me. She seems to have the same shell as I do, if not quite as extreme, but it's their. My brothers? One has never liked me, and I have a feeling he never will. He struggled in the early years of his schooling, and my raving ambition to do well has led me over him academically. Sure, this is great, but has ridiculous repercussions. I have friends - but nowhere near as many as him - and a don't even have the brotherly love of which I so desperately desire. A 'Hello', a 'Goodbye', something to make me feel as if he knows me, not just a stranger whom he has never met.
I guess thats my life though, and I'm too far in for to change. It's far to easy to set yourself into ways, routine and moreso into a sterotype. And I feel I've wasted myself by falling into all 3, the third most. And the worst thing? It's nigh on impossible to drag yourself out any of these social and psychological pits once you've gone so deep.
And I believe I have.
Page: