The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
I’m sitting here.
And there’s this feeling inside me.
A bit of that feeling when you finsih a really good book;
a bit of that feeling when you learn something new, something interesting;
a bit of that feeling when it’s Sunday afternoon, dipping slowly towards evening, dripping slowly through the night and bleeding into a fresh, yet somehow familiar Monday;
a bit of that feeling when no-one understands what you’re on about;
a bit of that feeling when you’re quiet and reserved, and the whole world’s an echo, when you feel different, there’s an atmosphere in the air which raises the hairs on your neck and pushes you towards something new;
a bit of that feeling when you find yourself doing something you don’t want to, something that’ll help someone you don’t know, something you don’t care about, something you don’t like, but still something you do;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you finally turn off the TV and realise you’re alone, and it’s late, and the world is sleeping;
it’s a bit of that feeling that makes you wanna eat something, but you don’t know what;
it’s a bit of that creeping feeling of other people expectations of you, of their pre-formed judgements and premature assessments of your personality, when they couldn’t begin to understand how you work, what you feel, how you live your life;
a bit of that feeling when you just wanna stop, lie on the floor and just, simply, do nothing;
a bit of that feeling when you’re walking and it’s raining and there’s an ice-cold wind blowing and you’re soaked from head to toe, complaining all the way - that feeling when you finally give up wishing it would stop and just walk through it;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you realise you’ve been staring into nothing for the last half hour, and blink back into reality.
Just something there, hardly anything at all.
No words describe it, no sounds express it, it just is.
There.
Inside me.
But maybe, just maybe, it’s my life.
Maybe it’s the last four years of my life, when we moved.
Four years and I’ve been out with people once.
Four years since I kissed a girl, let alone anything else.
Four years I’ve stood, hunched against a wall, staring on at the people I hang with, that ever-changing group who think I think they’re my friends. They’re not.
But four years of never being told to go away or find someone else to hang around with. Fitting in and abandoned.
Four years since I was popular.
Four years I’ve been looking nonchalantly on, thinking at how these people I was lumped with ever got liked.
Four years of mindless comments at my relative silence, never thinking that the reason I don’t speak is that nothing they have to say interests me.
Four years of plucking obvious remarks from the air in my defence, gaining the brief attention, laughter, respect of those around me.
Four years of backs re-turned, as the laughter subsides.
Four years of nothing
My teens years, when you learn new things, what’s good and bad, right and wrong, nearly over.
I feel so immature - I’ve not experienced anything. Never stayed out too late, never got told off, never got hammered out my brains, never got in a fight, never smashed a window, never done anything distinctly ‘teen’
I feel so mature - for the very same reason. Never been ‘teen’, does this put me beyond it? Over it? Above it? Never known why they do the things they do. Looked silently on, listened to their stories, thought I don’t need it.
Maybe this is what it is.
This feeling, coming out.
My four years of nonchalance. Was it forced on me by my own sense of misplacement, or did I always have it - the power to dismiss, boil things down to what matters and what doesn’t.
I just don’t know.
Maybe it’s just this time, the big event, the final exams, the big woo-woo. Now I make myself care, because I’m told to. But this false sense of care soon decays.
I’ll get what I need. I could take them now, get my grades and walk into college.
College. Maybe this is where the feeling lies. Where you grow up a seeming 10 years in 2 months. The big step.
Maybe here I’ll break away from these four years of my life. Go back to before them, when I had friends, when I went out, when I had fun, when I laughed and joked, when a had a girl, when I was happy.
But the ashes of my four years that I’ll burn at the end will carry with my to the place. The people I didn’t care about, who didn't’ care about me, those acquaintances I’d not miss will still be there with me.
And I’ll probably not break away.
Because I can stand with them and be left there. No-one’ll be surprised to see me with them, and no-one would miss me if I weren’t. The security of a crowd.
How very sad.
So I’m sat here, trying to work out this feeling, typing away what springs to mind. Maybe if I just write it’ll come to me, my problem, what’s wrong with me?
Did I change so suddenly?
Did the move change me into a ghost not missed, not welcomed, not even expected?
Did I change from someone nice, to some emotionless heap who doesn’t care about himself, the world around him or anyone in it?
Were these crap four years my fault?
Or that of those around me?
I just feel .... something different.
That tree the one that sways over next door’s little shed. I want to chop it down.
I want to throw a brink through a window.
I’d like to get into a fight and lose, lie soundlessly on the floor, head throbbing, nose bleeding.
I’d like to fire a gun. Make bullet holes in a wall.
I want to sprit down a crowded street and jump on top of a car.
I want to jump over the back fence and just walk. Keep walking.
I want to take a hammer to some rich git’s sports car.
I want to run across roof tops.
I want to dig a massive hole.
I want to punch a hole through something.
I want to shoot some arrows.
Now.
I have it.
I just want to do something different.
I don’t want to carry on like this, working to a set of topics made up by just some guy who’s got the most boring job in the world. I wonder what he did to get there. If he actually wanted to do it.
But I have to, I have to get experience to break away from everything.
I want two things:
To get my book finished and published,
To be a games designer.
There’s millions of people stuck with what they’re given. Who dream and plan and wish, but get stuck in a rut.
I don’t want to do that.
I want to be different.
I have it now.
This feeling.
Is to break away, do something different, something I’ll stand out for.
I’ve had four silent years to think about it.
But then comes college and university. At least another four years of the same, a set course, you must do this, you must do that.
Crap.
I think I’ll just have to stick with it, try and care, because it’ll get me what I want in the end. I will get what I want eventually, do something great, be known as someone.
Wait.
Now I can see.
How many people said that to themselves.
How many started towards a goal, but ran out of money. They took a job, just for a few months, then a year, two years, five years, and they’re still there. They go to move, but a promotion’s on the line and if they stay, they can make more money, get a job title, feel like they’re doing something.
But they’ve lost their dreams.
It seems I’m stuck as it is.
Destined to work hard, and convince myself I’m happy for at least another four years. Maybe five. Maybe even six.
I’ve done what I’ve set out to do.
Find out what the feeling was.
That feels alright now. Although a new feeling’s in it’s place, and this one’s here to stay for a good few years yet.
And I really have no choice.
I’m sure I’m too young to know that life sucks.
But it does.
And there’s this feeling inside me.
A bit of that feeling when you finsih a really good book;
a bit of that feeling when you learn something new, something interesting;
a bit of that feeling when it’s Sunday afternoon, dipping slowly towards evening, dripping slowly through the night and bleeding into a fresh, yet somehow familiar Monday;
a bit of that feeling when no-one understands what you’re on about;
a bit of that feeling when you’re quiet and reserved, and the whole world’s an echo, when you feel different, there’s an atmosphere in the air which raises the hairs on your neck and pushes you towards something new;
a bit of that feeling when you find yourself doing something you don’t want to, something that’ll help someone you don’t know, something you don’t care about, something you don’t like, but still something you do;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you finally turn off the TV and realise you’re alone, and it’s late, and the world is sleeping;
it’s a bit of that feeling that makes you wanna eat something, but you don’t know what;
it’s a bit of that creeping feeling of other people expectations of you, of their pre-formed judgements and premature assessments of your personality, when they couldn’t begin to understand how you work, what you feel, how you live your life;
a bit of that feeling when you just wanna stop, lie on the floor and just, simply, do nothing;
a bit of that feeling when you’re walking and it’s raining and there’s an ice-cold wind blowing and you’re soaked from head to toe, complaining all the way - that feeling when you finally give up wishing it would stop and just walk through it;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you realise you’ve been staring into nothing for the last half hour, and blink back into reality.
Just something there, hardly anything at all.
No words describe it, no sounds express it, it just is.
There.
Inside me.
But maybe, just maybe, it’s my life.
Maybe it’s the last four years of my life, when we moved.
Four years and I’ve been out with people once.
Four years since I kissed a girl, let alone anything else.
Four years I’ve stood, hunched against a wall, staring on at the people I hang with, that ever-changing group who think I think they’re my friends. They’re not.
But four years of never being told to go away or find someone else to hang around with. Fitting in and abandoned.
Four years since I was popular.
Four years I’ve been looking nonchalantly on, thinking at how these people I was lumped with ever got liked.
Four years of mindless comments at my relative silence, never thinking that the reason I don’t speak is that nothing they have to say interests me.
Four years of plucking obvious remarks from the air in my defence, gaining the brief attention, laughter, respect of those around me.
Four years of backs re-turned, as the laughter subsides.
Four years of nothing
My teens years, when you learn new things, what’s good and bad, right and wrong, nearly over.
I feel so immature - I’ve not experienced anything. Never stayed out too late, never got told off, never got hammered out my brains, never got in a fight, never smashed a window, never done anything distinctly ‘teen’
I feel so mature - for the very same reason. Never been ‘teen’, does this put me beyond it? Over it? Above it? Never known why they do the things they do. Looked silently on, listened to their stories, thought I don’t need it.
Maybe this is what it is.
This feeling, coming out.
My four years of nonchalance. Was it forced on me by my own sense of misplacement, or did I always have it - the power to dismiss, boil things down to what matters and what doesn’t.
I just don’t know.
Maybe it’s just this time, the big event, the final exams, the big woo-woo. Now I make myself care, because I’m told to. But this false sense of care soon decays.
I’ll get what I need. I could take them now, get my grades and walk into college.
College. Maybe this is where the feeling lies. Where you grow up a seeming 10 years in 2 months. The big step.
Maybe here I’ll break away from these four years of my life. Go back to before them, when I had friends, when I went out, when I had fun, when I laughed and joked, when a had a girl, when I was happy.
But the ashes of my four years that I’ll burn at the end will carry with my to the place. The people I didn’t care about, who didn't’ care about me, those acquaintances I’d not miss will still be there with me.
And I’ll probably not break away.
Because I can stand with them and be left there. No-one’ll be surprised to see me with them, and no-one would miss me if I weren’t. The security of a crowd.
How very sad.
So I’m sat here, trying to work out this feeling, typing away what springs to mind. Maybe if I just write it’ll come to me, my problem, what’s wrong with me?
Did I change so suddenly?
Did the move change me into a ghost not missed, not welcomed, not even expected?
Did I change from someone nice, to some emotionless heap who doesn’t care about himself, the world around him or anyone in it?
Were these crap four years my fault?
Or that of those around me?
I just feel .... something different.
That tree the one that sways over next door’s little shed. I want to chop it down.
I want to throw a brink through a window.
I’d like to get into a fight and lose, lie soundlessly on the floor, head throbbing, nose bleeding.
I’d like to fire a gun. Make bullet holes in a wall.
I want to sprit down a crowded street and jump on top of a car.
I want to jump over the back fence and just walk. Keep walking.
I want to take a hammer to some rich git’s sports car.
I want to run across roof tops.
I want to dig a massive hole.
I want to punch a hole through something.
I want to shoot some arrows.
Now.
I have it.
I just want to do something different.
I don’t want to carry on like this, working to a set of topics made up by just some guy who’s got the most boring job in the world. I wonder what he did to get there. If he actually wanted to do it.
But I have to, I have to get experience to break away from everything.
I want two things:
To get my book finished and published,
To be a games designer.
There’s millions of people stuck with what they’re given. Who dream and plan and wish, but get stuck in a rut.
I don’t want to do that.
I want to be different.
I have it now.
This feeling.
Is to break away, do something different, something I’ll stand out for.
I’ve had four silent years to think about it.
But then comes college and university. At least another four years of the same, a set course, you must do this, you must do that.
Crap.
I think I’ll just have to stick with it, try and care, because it’ll get me what I want in the end. I will get what I want eventually, do something great, be known as someone.
Wait.
Now I can see.
How many people said that to themselves.
How many started towards a goal, but ran out of money. They took a job, just for a few months, then a year, two years, five years, and they’re still there. They go to move, but a promotion’s on the line and if they stay, they can make more money, get a job title, feel like they’re doing something.
But they’ve lost their dreams.
It seems I’m stuck as it is.
Destined to work hard, and convince myself I’m happy for at least another four years. Maybe five. Maybe even six.
I’ve done what I’ve set out to do.
Find out what the feeling was.
That feels alright now. Although a new feeling’s in it’s place, and this one’s here to stay for a good few years yet.
And I really have no choice.
I’m sure I’m too young to know that life sucks.
But it does.
Fantasy mate
you have to much spare time. i reccomend taking up gardening
you have to much spare time. i reccomend taking up gardening
Time's on your side.
I enjoyed reading that, even if you probably didn't enjoy writing it.
I enjoyed reading that, even if you probably didn't enjoy writing it.
No doubt I'll get grief from beards here but :
listen geezer I've been at uni full time for 5 years and could count on one hand the amount of people I've *spoke* to let alone made friends with, but its a small part of life. you're only there 8 hours a day, use the rest of your time to do something you WANT to do. If you're not doing something you want to do, then FIND something.
You say you enjoy coming on here, so why do you then say life sucks. Find an activity that you enjoy so much that you forget about school.
Life does not start at 9am and finish at 3:30pm.
listen geezer I've been at uni full time for 5 years and could count on one hand the amount of people I've *spoke* to let alone made friends with, but its a small part of life. you're only there 8 hours a day, use the rest of your time to do something you WANT to do. If you're not doing something you want to do, then FIND something.
You say you enjoy coming on here, so why do you then say life sucks. Find an activity that you enjoy so much that you forget about school.
Life does not start at 9am and finish at 3:30pm.
I got confused, bored and gave up.
Ah well.
Ah well.
Cheers.
I think writing it all down helped me quite a lot, just getting it all down there, which is what I wanted to do anyway, kinda got a few things sorted.
What I'm really trying to find out is whether this nonchalant attitude I've developed was subconciously pushed onto me with these crappy four years I've had, or it's actually the real me as a person.
I don't know how I'll find this out, even if I actually CAN, or if it'll help in any way - I've been pretty alright with living like this, more of a spectator to everything, rather than actually doing it. But maybe that's because I never stopped to think how I actually feel.
Then tonight, when I'm back to school tomorrow, I just got this weird feeling. Probably because I know I'll go in tomorrow and revert back to this guy that really isn't me.
Before I moved it wasn't me anyway, this different guy who's just there - not really doind anything, not really saying, someone of no consequence.
Whereas back home, or what I still call my home, I was in there, in the middle of it all - groups of friends everywhere, going out, having fun, actually having a life.
It's weird to go through.
I don't know if I was to blame for how I am now. Whether I should have made more of an effort ... y'know .... ask if I can go round someone's house, make myself go out with others.
But I don't want to be that guy. The hanger on, the one who everyone's their role model. They suckass like there's no tomorrow, fool themselves into this state that they've got friends, but they havn't and everyone know it.
Except them.
Not that I don't get on with people.
There's a few I could risk calling friends, but a lot of people are just not there. Not like I used to have, where there were no questions about friendship - we were close, we stuck together.
But it's like most people I just don't care about.
I hate to say it, but if there was some freak explosion, and the whole of my year got killed. I don't think I'd be that worried. I wouldn't have lost anything special to me. Because no-one in there means anything to me.
Maybe that's what's wrong.
Which goes back to my attitude and whether is real or forced and now I'm just typing in circles.
Maybe I expected too much, maybe the long-formed bonds through my primary school and the 1st year of sceondary to my friends were what I expected to get straight away.
Like I said, maybe it's my problem.
I think now I'm just gonna put this whole four years of my life on the shelf. And say "There, that's an experience I don't want to have again."
And move on with my life.
At college I'll make a break for it.
Try and get talking to the people I can see myself getting along with, just make new bonds with people and try to get back the good things in my life.
Another thing just hit me.
Maybe this is why I fell in love with games and writing, and chose those two as my career path.
Because no-one listens to me, even when I do speak, only when they're reading my stuff or watching me play will anyone actually pay attention rather than waiting to butt-in and take over.
Maybe that's why I hang around here, so people can't interrupt me. I can say what I want, when I want it.
Still feel wierd ... but tomorrow I'm gonna REALLY not care.
I can't be bothered anymore, to keep up the pretense - not to myself, but to these people, who think that I think that they're my firends.
Maybe I'll even get in a fight, that could be nice.
But these next 2 months before I leave are for me.
To achieve MY goals, do what I want to do, and screw everyone else.
I'm done.
Feelin' a little better.
Maybe more confused ... but a little better.
*Eats lemon*
Life sucks
I think writing it all down helped me quite a lot, just getting it all down there, which is what I wanted to do anyway, kinda got a few things sorted.
What I'm really trying to find out is whether this nonchalant attitude I've developed was subconciously pushed onto me with these crappy four years I've had, or it's actually the real me as a person.
I don't know how I'll find this out, even if I actually CAN, or if it'll help in any way - I've been pretty alright with living like this, more of a spectator to everything, rather than actually doing it. But maybe that's because I never stopped to think how I actually feel.
Then tonight, when I'm back to school tomorrow, I just got this weird feeling. Probably because I know I'll go in tomorrow and revert back to this guy that really isn't me.
Before I moved it wasn't me anyway, this different guy who's just there - not really doind anything, not really saying, someone of no consequence.
Whereas back home, or what I still call my home, I was in there, in the middle of it all - groups of friends everywhere, going out, having fun, actually having a life.
It's weird to go through.
I don't know if I was to blame for how I am now. Whether I should have made more of an effort ... y'know .... ask if I can go round someone's house, make myself go out with others.
But I don't want to be that guy. The hanger on, the one who everyone's their role model. They suckass like there's no tomorrow, fool themselves into this state that they've got friends, but they havn't and everyone know it.
Except them.
Not that I don't get on with people.
There's a few I could risk calling friends, but a lot of people are just not there. Not like I used to have, where there were no questions about friendship - we were close, we stuck together.
But it's like most people I just don't care about.
I hate to say it, but if there was some freak explosion, and the whole of my year got killed. I don't think I'd be that worried. I wouldn't have lost anything special to me. Because no-one in there means anything to me.
Maybe that's what's wrong.
Which goes back to my attitude and whether is real or forced and now I'm just typing in circles.
Maybe I expected too much, maybe the long-formed bonds through my primary school and the 1st year of sceondary to my friends were what I expected to get straight away.
Like I said, maybe it's my problem.
I think now I'm just gonna put this whole four years of my life on the shelf. And say "There, that's an experience I don't want to have again."
And move on with my life.
At college I'll make a break for it.
Try and get talking to the people I can see myself getting along with, just make new bonds with people and try to get back the good things in my life.
Another thing just hit me.
Maybe this is why I fell in love with games and writing, and chose those two as my career path.
Because no-one listens to me, even when I do speak, only when they're reading my stuff or watching me play will anyone actually pay attention rather than waiting to butt-in and take over.
Maybe that's why I hang around here, so people can't interrupt me. I can say what I want, when I want it.
Still feel wierd ... but tomorrow I'm gonna REALLY not care.
I can't be bothered anymore, to keep up the pretense - not to myself, but to these people, who think that I think that they're my firends.
Maybe I'll even get in a fight, that could be nice.
But these next 2 months before I leave are for me.
To achieve MY goals, do what I want to do, and screw everyone else.
I'm done.
Feelin' a little better.
Maybe more confused ... but a little better.
*Eats lemon*
Life sucks
Wow...well, I read it all, and I'll try to reply to the bits I remember.
A few things stand out...I think I'm about the same age as you (15? 16?), and you wrote about how you'd never done anything 'teen.' Up until a little while ago I felt the same way, and I still do now to be honest...don't worry though, you're really not the only one. I hear stories too from people I know, and they're usually exaggerated. And someday you will have those experiences (well, maybe not smashing a window or anything) but staying out late, getting drunk etc. I don't feel the need to drink a lot, unlike some of my mates, but...
Okay, what I'm trying to get at is that I felt very unexperienced in life, and I still do now...but sometimes stuff just happens, and you can't prepare for it or anything...just do it. And it'll be okay.
And a lot of those feelings you described...well, I know exactly what you mean. I think way too much, and often I suddenly realise I've been staring into nothing for half an hour. And I've watched TV or been on the PC late into the night, turned them off, and suddenly felt very alone...
Anyway, they're the bits I remember from the post mainly...sounds like the last four years have been frustrating for you, so maybe you need to make a new start. I would like to make a new start too, but in a way I don't want to...I've tried to live more recently, just live...you know, care less about what people think of me, just do and say what feels right...and it's helped.
Anyway dude, feel free to chat to me if you can catch me, and good luck. {:)
A few things stand out...I think I'm about the same age as you (15? 16?), and you wrote about how you'd never done anything 'teen.' Up until a little while ago I felt the same way, and I still do now to be honest...don't worry though, you're really not the only one. I hear stories too from people I know, and they're usually exaggerated. And someday you will have those experiences (well, maybe not smashing a window or anything) but staying out late, getting drunk etc. I don't feel the need to drink a lot, unlike some of my mates, but...
Okay, what I'm trying to get at is that I felt very unexperienced in life, and I still do now...but sometimes stuff just happens, and you can't prepare for it or anything...just do it. And it'll be okay.
And a lot of those feelings you described...well, I know exactly what you mean. I think way too much, and often I suddenly realise I've been staring into nothing for half an hour. And I've watched TV or been on the PC late into the night, turned them off, and suddenly felt very alone...
Anyway, they're the bits I remember from the post mainly...sounds like the last four years have been frustrating for you, so maybe you need to make a new start. I would like to make a new start too, but in a way I don't want to...I've tried to live more recently, just live...you know, care less about what people think of me, just do and say what feels right...and it's helped.
Anyway dude, feel free to chat to me if you can catch me, and good luck. {:)
I’m sitting here.
And there’s this feeling inside me.
A bit of that feeling when you finsih a really good book;
a bit of that feeling when you learn something new, something interesting;
a bit of that feeling when it’s Sunday afternoon, dipping slowly towards evening, dripping slowly through the night and bleeding into a fresh, yet somehow familiar Monday;
a bit of that feeling when no-one understands what you’re on about;
a bit of that feeling when you’re quiet and reserved, and the whole world’s an echo, when you feel different, there’s an atmosphere in the air which raises the hairs on your neck and pushes you towards something new;
a bit of that feeling when you find yourself doing something you don’t want to, something that’ll help someone you don’t know, something you don’t care about, something you don’t like, but still something you do;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you finally turn off the TV and realise you’re alone, and it’s late, and the world is sleeping;
it’s a bit of that feeling that makes you wanna eat something, but you don’t know what;
it’s a bit of that creeping feeling of other people expectations of you, of their pre-formed judgements and premature assessments of your personality, when they couldn’t begin to understand how you work, what you feel, how you live your life;
a bit of that feeling when you just wanna stop, lie on the floor and just, simply, do nothing;
a bit of that feeling when you’re walking and it’s raining and there’s an ice-cold wind blowing and you’re soaked from head to toe, complaining all the way - that feeling when you finally give up wishing it would stop and just walk through it;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you realise you’ve been staring into nothing for the last half hour, and blink back into reality.
Just something there, hardly anything at all.
No words describe it, no sounds express it, it just is.
There.
Inside me.
But maybe, just maybe, it’s my life.
Maybe it’s the last four years of my life, when we moved.
Four years and I’ve been out with people once.
Four years since I kissed a girl, let alone anything else.
Four years I’ve stood, hunched against a wall, staring on at the people I hang with, that ever-changing group who think I think they’re my friends. They’re not.
But four years of never being told to go away or find someone else to hang around with. Fitting in and abandoned.
Four years since I was popular.
Four years I’ve been looking nonchalantly on, thinking at how these people I was lumped with ever got liked.
Four years of mindless comments at my relative silence, never thinking that the reason I don’t speak is that nothing they have to say interests me.
Four years of plucking obvious remarks from the air in my defence, gaining the brief attention, laughter, respect of those around me.
Four years of backs re-turned, as the laughter subsides.
Four years of nothing
My teens years, when you learn new things, what’s good and bad, right and wrong, nearly over.
I feel so immature - I’ve not experienced anything. Never stayed out too late, never got told off, never got hammered out my brains, never got in a fight, never smashed a window, never done anything distinctly ‘teen’
I feel so mature - for the very same reason. Never been ‘teen’, does this put me beyond it? Over it? Above it? Never known why they do the things they do. Looked silently on, listened to their stories, thought I don’t need it.
Maybe this is what it is.
This feeling, coming out.
My four years of nonchalance. Was it forced on me by my own sense of misplacement, or did I always have it - the power to dismiss, boil things down to what matters and what doesn’t.
I just don’t know.
Maybe it’s just this time, the big event, the final exams, the big woo-woo. Now I make myself care, because I’m told to. But this false sense of care soon decays.
I’ll get what I need. I could take them now, get my grades and walk into college.
College. Maybe this is where the feeling lies. Where you grow up a seeming 10 years in 2 months. The big step.
Maybe here I’ll break away from these four years of my life. Go back to before them, when I had friends, when I went out, when I had fun, when I laughed and joked, when a had a girl, when I was happy.
But the ashes of my four years that I’ll burn at the end will carry with my to the place. The people I didn’t care about, who didn't’ care about me, those acquaintances I’d not miss will still be there with me.
And I’ll probably not break away.
Because I can stand with them and be left there. No-one’ll be surprised to see me with them, and no-one would miss me if I weren’t. The security of a crowd.
How very sad.
So I’m sat here, trying to work out this feeling, typing away what springs to mind. Maybe if I just write it’ll come to me, my problem, what’s wrong with me?
Did I change so suddenly?
Did the move change me into a ghost not missed, not welcomed, not even expected?
Did I change from someone nice, to some emotionless heap who doesn’t care about himself, the world around him or anyone in it?
Were these crap four years my fault?
Or that of those around me?
I just feel .... something different.
That tree the one that sways over next door’s little shed. I want to chop it down.
I want to throw a brink through a window.
I’d like to get into a fight and lose, lie soundlessly on the floor, head throbbing, nose bleeding.
I’d like to fire a gun. Make bullet holes in a wall.
I want to sprit down a crowded street and jump on top of a car.
I want to jump over the back fence and just walk. Keep walking.
I want to take a hammer to some rich git’s sports car.
I want to run across roof tops.
I want to dig a massive hole.
I want to punch a hole through something.
I want to shoot some arrows.
Now.
I have it.
I just want to do something different.
I don’t want to carry on like this, working to a set of topics made up by just some guy who’s got the most boring job in the world. I wonder what he did to get there. If he actually wanted to do it.
But I have to, I have to get experience to break away from everything.
I want two things:
To get my book finished and published,
To be a games designer.
There’s millions of people stuck with what they’re given. Who dream and plan and wish, but get stuck in a rut.
I don’t want to do that.
I want to be different.
I have it now.
This feeling.
Is to break away, do something different, something I’ll stand out for.
I’ve had four silent years to think about it.
But then comes college and university. At least another four years of the same, a set course, you must do this, you must do that.
Crap.
I think I’ll just have to stick with it, try and care, because it’ll get me what I want in the end. I will get what I want eventually, do something great, be known as someone.
Wait.
Now I can see.
How many people said that to themselves.
How many started towards a goal, but ran out of money. They took a job, just for a few months, then a year, two years, five years, and they’re still there. They go to move, but a promotion’s on the line and if they stay, they can make more money, get a job title, feel like they’re doing something.
But they’ve lost their dreams.
It seems I’m stuck as it is.
Destined to work hard, and convince myself I’m happy for at least another four years. Maybe five. Maybe even six.
I’ve done what I’ve set out to do.
Find out what the feeling was.
That feels alright now. Although a new feeling’s in it’s place, and this one’s here to stay for a good few years yet.
And I really have no choice.
I’m sure I’m too young to know that life sucks.
But it does.
And there’s this feeling inside me.
A bit of that feeling when you finsih a really good book;
a bit of that feeling when you learn something new, something interesting;
a bit of that feeling when it’s Sunday afternoon, dipping slowly towards evening, dripping slowly through the night and bleeding into a fresh, yet somehow familiar Monday;
a bit of that feeling when no-one understands what you’re on about;
a bit of that feeling when you’re quiet and reserved, and the whole world’s an echo, when you feel different, there’s an atmosphere in the air which raises the hairs on your neck and pushes you towards something new;
a bit of that feeling when you find yourself doing something you don’t want to, something that’ll help someone you don’t know, something you don’t care about, something you don’t like, but still something you do;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you finally turn off the TV and realise you’re alone, and it’s late, and the world is sleeping;
it’s a bit of that feeling that makes you wanna eat something, but you don’t know what;
it’s a bit of that creeping feeling of other people expectations of you, of their pre-formed judgements and premature assessments of your personality, when they couldn’t begin to understand how you work, what you feel, how you live your life;
a bit of that feeling when you just wanna stop, lie on the floor and just, simply, do nothing;
a bit of that feeling when you’re walking and it’s raining and there’s an ice-cold wind blowing and you’re soaked from head to toe, complaining all the way - that feeling when you finally give up wishing it would stop and just walk through it;
it’s a bit of that feeling when you realise you’ve been staring into nothing for the last half hour, and blink back into reality.
Just something there, hardly anything at all.
No words describe it, no sounds express it, it just is.
There.
Inside me.
But maybe, just maybe, it’s my life.
Maybe it’s the last four years of my life, when we moved.
Four years and I’ve been out with people once.
Four years since I kissed a girl, let alone anything else.
Four years I’ve stood, hunched against a wall, staring on at the people I hang with, that ever-changing group who think I think they’re my friends. They’re not.
But four years of never being told to go away or find someone else to hang around with. Fitting in and abandoned.
Four years since I was popular.
Four years I’ve been looking nonchalantly on, thinking at how these people I was lumped with ever got liked.
Four years of mindless comments at my relative silence, never thinking that the reason I don’t speak is that nothing they have to say interests me.
Four years of plucking obvious remarks from the air in my defence, gaining the brief attention, laughter, respect of those around me.
Four years of backs re-turned, as the laughter subsides.
Four years of nothing
My teens years, when you learn new things, what’s good and bad, right and wrong, nearly over.
I feel so immature - I’ve not experienced anything. Never stayed out too late, never got told off, never got hammered out my brains, never got in a fight, never smashed a window, never done anything distinctly ‘teen’
I feel so mature - for the very same reason. Never been ‘teen’, does this put me beyond it? Over it? Above it? Never known why they do the things they do. Looked silently on, listened to their stories, thought I don’t need it.
Maybe this is what it is.
This feeling, coming out.
My four years of nonchalance. Was it forced on me by my own sense of misplacement, or did I always have it - the power to dismiss, boil things down to what matters and what doesn’t.
I just don’t know.
Maybe it’s just this time, the big event, the final exams, the big woo-woo. Now I make myself care, because I’m told to. But this false sense of care soon decays.
I’ll get what I need. I could take them now, get my grades and walk into college.
College. Maybe this is where the feeling lies. Where you grow up a seeming 10 years in 2 months. The big step.
Maybe here I’ll break away from these four years of my life. Go back to before them, when I had friends, when I went out, when I had fun, when I laughed and joked, when a had a girl, when I was happy.
But the ashes of my four years that I’ll burn at the end will carry with my to the place. The people I didn’t care about, who didn't’ care about me, those acquaintances I’d not miss will still be there with me.
And I’ll probably not break away.
Because I can stand with them and be left there. No-one’ll be surprised to see me with them, and no-one would miss me if I weren’t. The security of a crowd.
How very sad.
So I’m sat here, trying to work out this feeling, typing away what springs to mind. Maybe if I just write it’ll come to me, my problem, what’s wrong with me?
Did I change so suddenly?
Did the move change me into a ghost not missed, not welcomed, not even expected?
Did I change from someone nice, to some emotionless heap who doesn’t care about himself, the world around him or anyone in it?
Were these crap four years my fault?
Or that of those around me?
I just feel .... something different.
That tree the one that sways over next door’s little shed. I want to chop it down.
I want to throw a brink through a window.
I’d like to get into a fight and lose, lie soundlessly on the floor, head throbbing, nose bleeding.
I’d like to fire a gun. Make bullet holes in a wall.
I want to sprit down a crowded street and jump on top of a car.
I want to jump over the back fence and just walk. Keep walking.
I want to take a hammer to some rich git’s sports car.
I want to run across roof tops.
I want to dig a massive hole.
I want to punch a hole through something.
I want to shoot some arrows.
Now.
I have it.
I just want to do something different.
I don’t want to carry on like this, working to a set of topics made up by just some guy who’s got the most boring job in the world. I wonder what he did to get there. If he actually wanted to do it.
But I have to, I have to get experience to break away from everything.
I want two things:
To get my book finished and published,
To be a games designer.
There’s millions of people stuck with what they’re given. Who dream and plan and wish, but get stuck in a rut.
I don’t want to do that.
I want to be different.
I have it now.
This feeling.
Is to break away, do something different, something I’ll stand out for.
I’ve had four silent years to think about it.
But then comes college and university. At least another four years of the same, a set course, you must do this, you must do that.
Crap.
I think I’ll just have to stick with it, try and care, because it’ll get me what I want in the end. I will get what I want eventually, do something great, be known as someone.
Wait.
Now I can see.
How many people said that to themselves.
How many started towards a goal, but ran out of money. They took a job, just for a few months, then a year, two years, five years, and they’re still there. They go to move, but a promotion’s on the line and if they stay, they can make more money, get a job title, feel like they’re doing something.
But they’ve lost their dreams.
It seems I’m stuck as it is.
Destined to work hard, and convince myself I’m happy for at least another four years. Maybe five. Maybe even six.
I’ve done what I’ve set out to do.
Find out what the feeling was.
That feels alright now. Although a new feeling’s in it’s place, and this one’s here to stay for a good few years yet.
And I really have no choice.
I’m sure I’m too young to know that life sucks.
But it does.