No Explanations, No Expectations. I Don’t Even Know What This Is.
Shit. long time no see, eh?
I’m not really up for giving any explanations here as to my absence, though I suppose I should really post something before I launch this blog into the sun and watch the bastard die a fiery death. Because I’m not too sure what to do with this anymore. Right now I feel like I’ll never be able to write anything coherent again. Not that I probably ever did, but you get the point.
Perhaps it’s because I haven’t used it in so long, but I feel like my brain has given up on me completely. Everything I ever thought I could be capable of achieving has kind of left the building. While I’m remaining hopeful it’ll all come back, I’m not sure how long that will take.
Even if I do resurrect this all in the future, there will be a breakdown in spectral communications for the time being while I work through a period of major readjustment and take wary steps along a new path.
I have no idea what I’m doing, or where I’m going. I probably shouldn’t worry where that shit is concerned – since when have I ever had a fucking clue at any point in my life? Not as if everything will suddenly change now. There is no plan. There is no bigger picture. There is no end destination. A few things to help people out with, maybe? Christ, don’t know what relevant assistance I can give to anyone…I can’t even find a job at the moment…
This post will not be about something big, or exciting, or amazing. It will not be about the latest cinematic headtrip to blow my mind. It will not be a vaguely humorous ripping apart of a shitty film. If anything this will be nothing more than a string of joined together sentences that serve no real purpose other than to prove to myself I can still put one word down after another. Because I find it far easier to write to no one, than speak to someone. Unless they’re being paid to listen…only fair you provide job satisfaction and a possible case study, eh?
I’ve never felt a close enough bond with anyone to be able to tell them absolutely anything. While I have some great friends, truly fantastic people, I seem to be missing the relationship that most others appear to have at least one of. That comfortable, non-conditional thing where you can be completely off guard and say whatever you want at any moment. Share every worry and fear, and idea, and secret. The person you phone first before anyone else with good news, or when shit all goes wrong. I’ve never found that. What I can’t talk about usually outweighs what I can bring myself to reveal.
I think too much, and I never want to bother anyone. There’s enough stuff going on in the lives of others without encountering my day to day happenings. Good or bad. Who would really have any interest, or need to know?
Which is why I end up walking roads I don’t want to be on, getting into situations I don’t want to be in, doing the wrong thing, hurting others, or letting people down, or waiting till shit gets so out of control that it hits the fan in spectacular fashion. I stick my head in the sand rather than deal with reality. About time I learned that bottling things up and hoping everything will just go away does more harm than good. Painting a pretty picture of happiness to the outside world rather than telling people what’s really going on doesn’t work in the end. Letting others think they know you, when they don’t, is a terrible thing to do. But it’s far easier to become something you’re not when you don’t know who you really are. To drift into different personalities and ways of behaviour that don’t fit with what you want from life. Because you don’t know what you want other than to feel a part of something. I always thought the one thing I could do in life was make people happy, or make them feel good. Turns out I’m shit at that.
I don’t know where I fit. Never have, and most likely never will. Envy is not the nicest of emotions, and the only time I ever really experience it is when I see the type of friendships and family relationships I can never open myself up to. There’s always too much distance where I’m concerned. Literal distance, as well as in the figurative sense. I hate that I’m so guarded, especially around my family. It’s for the best I’m not likely to have children of my own, as the poor things would grow up emotionally damaged. I’m sure my parents would appreciate the gesture…don’t know if they could deal with any more of my fuck ups. It’s a good thing that they – like all of my friends and acquaintances – don’t know the half of it.
I push people away by being some quiet, weirdo freak. The one person I wish I could’ve been close to didn’t live long enough, so I should know better than to do this. I’d love to be like everyone else and have someone within walking distance to tell everything to, but I scare people away. I drink too much. Because I‘m quiet, and because I’m nervous, and I need it. Then I talk non-stop, and come across as an idiot cunt. I put people off wanting to be close to me by acting like a dick. In truth, this is probably the real reason I will never have that one infinitely special, deep and lasting friendship.
Jesus, I don‘t half fucking ramble on. Ah, who cares, I’m posting this shit anyway. Just managing to type for any length of time without even mild panic is a good thing. Forgive me. The last two months have been fucking mental. When things are back on track remind me to tell you of the hotel comedy, the moths, the blood, and the broken glass – because that shit is hilarious. Even if it wasn’t at the time…
Stay positive, bitches! I’m gving it a whirl myself. Here’s to afternoon drinking and an extended, rather skint holiday fom the working world. NOW LET’S KILL THIS BLOG WITH FIRE!