I'm Still Tired
Alright, I'm back, it's 11:30, and I'm recovering. I'm tired, so I'm just going to type up whatever comes to mind as I'm typing.
Ever since I wrote one of my posts, I've been thinking less and less about (eh, I'll say it, nobody knows who she is anyway) Ashley and more about another girl, who I hope doesn't know that I like her, and even if she does, I'm not going to act on it unless she does; I've gotten screwed too many times by saying shit. Ashley knew that I liked her early on, so maybe I broadcast too much, but it's not something I can easily change without becoming a total asshole to people... it really sucks being an honest guy, it's too hard to hide what you're feeling. I wonder if she has figured this out.
It's interestingly theraputic for me to write now, after all, for about 16 years of my life the last thing I ever wanted to do was write anything. English has been my least favorite class for a long time, and it's probably the one I'd be best at if I actually tried. After graduation, the immeadiate thing was that I was going to Kentucky for one big blast to get school out of my system, but now reality is sinking in, and I'm going to need to get a job over the summer, get my liscence, and get into a fucking college... WHY THE HELL do I always wait till the last minute with everything I do? Maybe it has something to do with perfectionism, if I can't find the perfect situation I guess I just shut down. I've discovered that I do things out of paranoia to avoid being too weird, and I think that I end up being weirder because of it, because I can't do anything naturally. I need to keep writing these things, they appear to be helping me work out my problems. By the way, yes, I've been to a psychiatrist, and I ended up playing head games with him. I would figure out what he wanted me to say and then say the thing which would direct him away from whatever he was getting at. I remember during that hell of a sophomore year that I had, Mr. Scire told me, "I think you want help." I said something to the effect of no, and later I think I wrote like 3 or 4 letters when I was really depressed asking someone to help me. I really think that I'm the only person who can help me, because even when I end up with someone that I can really talk to, I just end up saying what I need to say for myself, and they still aren't able to help no matter how hard they try.
because i need you more than you need me
because i want you more i know
because we move too fucking fast
i think i really had to wish to make this last i know
i'm sorry please forgive me, believe me if you would
because i cared way more
because i really felt that you felt so much more i know
i'm sorry please forgive me, believe me if you would
i'm sorry please forgive me, believe me if you could
i'm sorry please forgive me, believe me if you would
i'm sorry please forgive me, believe me if you could
believe me if you could
-Box Car Racer - Sorrow
I wanted to put this in, because I'm still trying to work Ashley out of my head, and if we had a song, that would be it. Maybe it's another step in the 'healing process.' I think everyone who reads this who cares should download this song. Ashley still hasn't as far as I know, and if she reads this, I wish she would care enough to download it, or if she still can't get songs, get a friend to do it and burn it to a CD for her. That and Box Car Racer - There Is. Two fucking amazing songs, AMAZING songs. She isn't going to do it, because she doesn't give a shit. Ah well, enough depressed ramblings for one night. I'm going to try and write up a real, factual summation of what happened in Kentucky for those who care about the miles of CAT5 cable we torched up with the gigs of pr0n we traded :p
|
Create