Just a little something

Every time you look around there’s distractions. Whether it’s noise, a deep rumble of laughter, to people, the way they sit with others.

A man tenderly watches a group of women on the dance floor. The ladies clearly know they have an admirer, you wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for the drunken giggles, and outright flirting. The inappropriate dancing, tell tales of the women, trying to entice the gentleman.

A couple so into grips with one another, it wouldn’t surprise me if they couldn’t hear the music at all, cornered into on another, yet still at a distance to be able to stare into one anothers eyes. No words are being uttered, nothing being said, but yet with the way they are staring at one another, you would wonder if they weren’t silently communicating with one another.

The females eyes shine clearly with love, and so much trust for the guy, who stares into her eyes with pure adoration. The tender embrace, the way he slowly glides his masculine hand across her face, you would think he was savouring every touch, every feel, every moment.

A

When I stare into your face, your eyes instantly draw me in. So many questions are being secretly aimed at me. Yet you’re unable to speak them, because you simply can no longer talk. You’re no longer around for me to feel your heat, here you breathe, For you to simply be there and I’d know without a thousand words that you cared. So now I look at your photos and can only remember the memories my brain simply chooses to remember. Don’t get me wrong, I miss you, but I can’t remember what it’s like to feel you anymore. I simply feel dead, but was I even alive when you were breathing?

Its not me

Blankness, yeah I’m saying it again. Feel like  a dead empty brick. Think I’ve reached the point where a no is a no. A yes is a yes. Might just try the yes, and see where it gets me, even though I’m not a hundred percent committed. Try something, maybe that’s what I need to do, before I scream in silent frustration, but I don’t really want to say yes. Guess that’s like trying to live, but not really wanting too.

My attitude about everything seems to be like that though. Even with the good stuff that’s about to happen in the coming months. That’s me, just being an ungrateful shite. Ah god, I just don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. I simply don’t want to process a thing.

I read somewhere that a step to happiness is to eliminate complaining. Well I’m doing wonderfully, as you can see. Old habits die hard.

I feel like whatever I say doesn’t get me anywhere, apart from into a big hole, I feel like it’s my fault for being me. Honestly don’t trust, it makes me want to stab myself, just to see what happens. It hurts me that I cant trust, cant rely on anyone. It’s literally eating me up, killing me on the inside. It just makes me want to give up. If I wasn’t so emotionally high, maybe I’d be okay. But look at this, right here with these words, I’m wishing to be someone else. Therefore I don’t accept myself, for who I am. Isn’t that a terrible thing to do to yourself. I’ve never personally done anything wrong to myself. So where the hell did it start? Who did the first mark? Why cant I just love/ accept myself? Im sick of being me. Of thinking this way. Literally sick.

Tired

Come on

Give me what I deserve! Give it to me hard. Shout at me. Tell me what you really think of me. Punch or slap me silly. Raise your voice at me. Have some reaction to my sullenness. Give me a reply to the attitude that I give. Just give me something for my rudeness. Tell me, with the air burning in your lungs, that I need to get my act together. That I need to love and appreciate what I have before its gone, because I know what it’s like to have and then be gone. Yet this feeling, it doesn’t change the way I am. It just makes me more bitter. More sullen.

Stop saying the same uncared words. Stop repeating yourself like a broken record. Scream at me, you need to pull yourself together. I know I need to change, Im going to find change. But it’s not as simple as embracing it. It’s not like I can switch a switch, and all emotions are erased. You know this. Don’t you remember the time when you weren’t happy. When you did something uncalled for, just to make what you felt disappear. You know, yet you say things as if you don’t know what im talking about.

Im tired of being, I write to express. To get someone to help me, even if its just by a simple reply. But all I get is, good writing. Good writing! Thank you for the compliment. But if I read something so heart breaking, could see the underlining of giving in, of self destruction. I wouldn’t write well done. I would do something other than those words. I don’t know what I expect. Maybe some sort of understanding. An erasing of my head. I just want change. To embrace the change and get over it.

Im stuck, Im always stuck. What a great way to be. Never growing, never learning. Because, well, Im wasting away being the way that I am. Im the only one who can make the change, to make the step. But I always choose not too.

Is that because Im too afraid, letting fear win all the time? Or do I just like making tired excuses? Arent you tired of me yet? Because I am

 

..

Questions

Why Arent you nice? Because Im bitter

Why don’t you smile? It doesn’t come naturally

Why are you hard on yourself? Someone has to be

Why don’t you live? Whats living

Why do you always have to be negative? Because when I am positive, someone always brings me down, It always comes back

Why do you feel the way you do? I keep myself caged

Why are you leaving? I don’t want to be me

Why do you expect so much, to think you deserve good treatment? I expect things because Its normal. Why shouldn’t I get good, but then again, I should only get what I give, which would be poor or not a lot.

Why do I talk to you? Theres no one else

I expect better than what I give.

 

What am I doing?

Im just casually cruising on my sexy bike, winds blowing through my hair. Full speed ahead, aimlessly reaching an unknown destination. Oh how it feels!

Kidding! Of course Im not cruising with the wind in my hear. Im sitting here, writing this blog, that has unmeaningful words, in an unmeaningful paragraph of nothing.

Im just aimlessly writing for the sake of the emptiness that’s coursing through my body. Oh wait, is that my blood?

Like I said before, I’m empty. I feel like dead meat. Maybe that’s a new definition for being bored. But that would mean I’m always bored. Therefore that means I’m a boring creature. But I don’t want to be known to be boring. I mean, I do a few things in the hours of daylight. I go to the gym, move the lacking of limbs. I eat, to fill in the gap of whatever seems to be missing. I watch films, but I’m not really watching them, or listening to their story. I’m just simply looking at the screen with deaf ears and glazed eyes. I put my head inside books, literally, amazing feeling ever. The way the pages tickle my face. The words blur, but still read able. Seriously though, the stories are a great escape, which is great, but there’s only so much you can take before this dullness comes back. So I’m empty.

Would you call me boring? Or would you call me fed up, expecting too much in a simple life?

I could go out, but hearing other peoples voices, seeing the way there mouth moves with words, making me have to listen to their stories doesn’t exactly appeal to me. That’s a selfish thing to say, but it’s the honest truth. I mean I’d like to spend the evening in the company of someone other than myself, but they always end up asking about me. I don’t really want to talk about me, or they go weird because well they try to impress, but I don’t want to be impressed. So it’s just easier to spend my evening in my own company. Better than the awkwardness. But being with this negative ass all the time is taking its toll on what’s left of me.

(I sound like an ungrateful ass)

I should be satisfied with what I have, it’s not like I’m always going to have these moments.

I just seem messed up.

The words that are rolling around in my head for me to write next, is ; I love you.

Doesn’t really make sense. But I don’t think I’ve ever made sense.

Thoughts

I have this question that I keep asking myself, with many others, but this one question I cant seem to think of an answer for. I feel like I should be asking the higher Gods, if you believe in them that is.

The simple, yet so meaningful question is;

Why are we here? Why are we created? For what purpose?

I get that we all have an inner purpose for life, for ourselves. yet why are we created, putting us on a world. One that in my opinion is over populated, why have/ let us be created when we, (How do I put this, if I even know what im trying to say) Don’t really do much apart from work/earn, sleep/rest, travel/spend. It just seems that we go from one thing to another. Fall endlessly in love, some peoples cases, or live a life that’s lonely, until the ending of days.

I don’t see what you accomplish by that.

(I sound like a dick)

I just don’t understand why we are created, and whats the purpose to life?

I get that you make your own life, your own. I get that its down to you as an individual to make it worth living, and making yourself happy. That’s all the inner stuff. Whats the whole plan? Whats the worlds plan.

Why are humans created? They are created for a purpose. You wouldn’t have this magical, miracle of life for nothing. But why was the human created in the first place?

Me

I’ve got a future. A very adventurous one! It’s happening this year, time to travel and all. Experience life in different terms.

So I ask myself why do I wake up sad? When I have no means to be sad.

(Always repeating)

Why do I feel bone weary sad, when my future for this year looks fun.

Why can’t I simply embrace it, and hum with excitement.

Why does blackness/ darkness hover so closely that I can feel it pulling me.

Why do I always come back to this selfishness?

I mean for godsake I’ve been given this opportunity, an amazing one. Im about to travel to many places. All Im doing is being a miserable git.

(Wheres the pill?!)

The amount of times I want to punch myself is unbelievable. So the satisfaction of punching walls will do, but it doesn’t take away this…..

Im not even sure what to call it. Internal struggle? The ass emotion? Down right depressing? The emptiness that sucks life?

It just sucks. Big ass sucks. And I’ve had enough.

Im not just ruining my life, Im ruining everyone elses. All I can think, How many more lifes will my darkness touch in the coming year?