This is going to waste your time, but was filling mine.

On nights like these when I squirm so restlessly and my mind rolls at an unearthly speed, I hate laying alone in silence. I question life; I question religion; I question myself.
It seems to me that my life has been a series of things that I have loved but could never have... I wish those words were mine, but I stole them from a book. All the same, I do feel this way. It's all forbidden fruit that I lust over. I like to pretend that it's for the best and that if I were to actually have what I wanted, the very fibers of my existence would unravel. I'M SO SELFISH. If that were fact, then I would be inferring that the world revolved around my life- all the decisions I make cause everyone else's existence. Ha.

I think the truth of the matter actually goes something more like this: It's not that I don't know how to love, it's that I don't know how to be loved.
Who am I to pretend I know what I'm talking about though? I would like to think that I am the most in sync person and that I can analyze any situation  and just know how to solve every problem. I'm arrogant, but ignorant. I carry on pretending to understand the abstractions of life, like hope, love and imagination. It's all irrelivant, I suppose.

Content. That's what I am. I could try harder, but I don't mind my life as I know it.
It's all meant to inspire but instead we stand, hands in pocket, facing foreword, afraid to exist as something more than normal.



I almost deleted this several times, but I didn't for some reason. It's all white noise.

Here's a blog.

I think we thought we were anticipating our futures.
I never anticipated what I am now, but rather made an ideal situation out of the presumable future, successful me. Here I am though. I wanted to grow up so bad and I knew that moving away was the solution, but in reality I remain as childish and aggressive as I always have been. And more than anything I hate that I know exactly how I am and can pin point every flaw and know exactly where I've gone wrong but I have failed to change who I am.

I mean, let me be honest. I like who I am to a degree. I wouldn't want to be anything else in fear that any other path might have left me less enlightened to my current situation. I hate that I thought I was so special for so long, and furthermore, I hate that people made me feel that I was something special that was going to make a huge dent on humanity by changing the aspects of how we live socially. The realization that I'm just like everyone else kind of upsetting but in a soothing way that reminds me that I am, indeed, human.

Being human is nice. Not that I really know the difference.