Trainspotting

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance.
Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisurewear and amtching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking jung food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future.
Choose life.

Alisha.

The first time I met her, the first thing I noticed were her hands. They were petite, with nail-polished fingertips, chipped and weathered. She smiled the smile that would thaw the coldest of hearts at me and introduced herself. And that was how I met Alisha. She is an amazing woman, proud, and headstrong, but not within reason. She is to concerned now with the well-beings of others to stand up for herself, and this has led to her being hurt by those who would seek to use her. She is someone who would tell you something exactly how it is, and rarely kept anything from you, unless she thought it would hurt you. She stands up for her friends if they are hurt, and would go to almost any length to protect them.
She has grown more than anyone else in the three years I’ve known her. She has matured in a way many thought impossible. Her social hiatus has caused her to grow into being an incredible woman, flawed, but perfect at the same time. Her stubbornness is tempered with passion, for life, and feeling. She is a beautiful woman, with ebony and sanguine straightened hair framing her glorious ivory face. Being shorter than many doesn’t mar her natural beauty one iota, and she maintains an air of dignity where many couldn’t. Of all the people I have ever met, none as so under-appreciated or amazing as her.

morning.

i woke up this morning.
damn. not again.

translations

3 used to equal 3 for me.

now all i see is 2+1.

everything i say is stupid, and i worry it will make you realize how i really don't know what to do.
everything i do is an echo, the neat and tidy ripples of the storm in my brain.
everything i feel is on the edge of a knife, and can change once i remind myself of the truth.
the truth that i don't belong.
and i never will.

10:20 on a Saturday night, and I'm alone, and not even at my own house.
i should be sleeping. everyone else is, or is pretending to.
sometimes i sit back and watch the people around me, and smile when they say things to me, the whole time wondering how long it will be until i feel the knives begin to turn. a lot of people don't seem to realize how choppy my emotions are, and probably don't realize how much everything affects me. and how much everything reminds me of someone. ill be smiling, hear a song that reminds me of something, and i will feel like shit for the rest of the day. the worst part is it is bands i always hear. the Dresden dolls, Paramore, evermore, all amazing people, but they stir up memories. memories that i would rather not have.

when i say "I'm fine", it means i feel like shit, but i don't want you to know.
when i say "I'm going for a walk", it means i can't handle being around anybody for the moment, let me step out and fall apart.
when i say "i care about you" it means my world teeters on the next thing you say.
when i say "i love you" it means just that.
and contrary to popular belief, i am not obsessed with sex. i do not want to sleep with everybody i meet that lacks a Y chromosome.
i read and play video games to avoid the world i live in. and who i am.

i don't like school. i don't like being around people all the time, especially anything with an ASMS logo. i don't like anyone who is unable to see the value in others. i don't like myself, i don't like people who treat others like shit. i don't like backstabbers and i don't like people who can't see when they have done something wrong.

i don't like myself. i don't like who i was, i don't like who i am. people say i have changed, I can't see it. i see redemption in every wound, penance in every bruise. people forgive me.

what they don't realize, is i will never forgive myself.

The unnatainable institution

School is a self professed gateway to the rest of your life. I had always been one with the masses; that someone successful goes to university, and becomes a doctor, or a lawyer, or a brain surgeon. recently, a conbination of curcumstance and good luck showed me a diferent view. school is only the way to kill the first 18 years of your life, and teach you basic social skills. this is not to say i am completely against it. uni still does offer pathways to higher education. TAFE does the same, albiet with less books and more physical work.

i will fail this year. i know it. you know it, and my dad knows it.

three years ago this would have meant i would consider my life over.

now, it appears that there is life beyond failure. next year i want to work, and do coursework at TAFE, on some cert 3 or something that i will choose later. next year is about establishing myself as a human being again. hopefully doing retail at a clothing store of some description, and TAFEing. if this fails, then its full-time work, and ill have to try again next year.

then, it's to TAFE full time, doing interior design, for two years.

then to uni. interior archetecture.

then, my life.

x

(IN)box of horrors.

i cleaned it out today. yes me, the slobby, if not strikingly handsome young man, did some cleaning. so here i sit. on the other side of what ended up being a laborious 2 hour process in which i deleted 2773 unread emails and countless read ones. it's amazing sitting and reading back over them, and trying to remember the kind of person i was when i received them. I still had e-mails from when i was with Emma-may. which may not have been the easiest time of my life, for all involved, including her, i am sure. but i look back, and i see someone completely different who those emails were addressed to. a man with my face and name, but nothing else. then disputes within my old circle of friends, that would eventually lead to the breakup of a band, and the members not talking untill recently.

this leads to two things.
1. - doubts about my character, and how i have changed.
2. - very unsavoury thoughts about oneself.

i think overall this was a very positive experience, and i dont feel so bad about my current situation anymore.

where i used to be was much more fucking dark.

what do you do?

When the world is broken?

When the people you love hurt so bad?

When you feel walled off from those you love?

When the light at the end of the tunnel turns out to be another streetlamp?

When you are caught in helplessness, and imprisoned in inadequacy?

When the world caves in on you, and your shoulders can’t bear it?

When the shadows seem inviting?

When anger and pain become driving forces?

When the only thing you feel you can do is lie in the shower and cry?

Do you know?

Cause I sure as hell don’t.