Hate to sound sleazy, but tease me. I don't want it if it's that easy.
I like to chase-chase-chase. And then I like to bail-bail-bail. I hate any kind of emotional attachment. I hate dependency. I hate getting close to saying how I really feel.
I like working for mine. I hate having shit thrown at me. I don’t appreciate anything after I have it. Everything pleases me, but nothing satisfies me. I hate looking at people think before they speak.
I like when people don’t need me but I want them. I hate deciding relationships, even though I want take part in one I don’t control. I hate when people listen to my bullshit.
Somehow this is all connected by some undefined word.
I’m tired of people and the internet. I’m tired of people on the internet pretending all the fucking time. People trying to befriend and go smack at and publicly talk to people they otherwise wouldn’t.
The ONE thing I don’t like about Facebook and Tumblr and Twitter is that dry people, and annoying people, and wack people log onto whichever website and pretend like they’re swaggin, and cool, and have so many friends.
I’m tired of friends writing on friend’s walls. I’m tired of people with no personalities trying to be all funny online. I’m tired of pussies talking shit and starting shit on Twitter.
TOO MUCH FUCKING SECURITY BEHIND A FUCKING KEYBOARD.
It’s always palpitating out of fucking control. I need to go to the doctor before I have a freaking heart attack. The crappy food I eat doesn’t help at all either.
I’ve gotten to this point mentally that I feel like I can’t really explain. I feel like I have control over my life, and that I can do whatever I want if I think I will - but because I’ve been fucking with this idea consciously for so long, I feel like it’s like manipulating time.
It’s like I know giving someone a compliment will make them happy. So I consciously say one so I can make someone happy. It’s a really small example, but whenever I think grander than that, I realize I can do anything intentionally and get the results I expect. It’s like I can decide whatever I want. If I decide to do certain things at a certain time, I know what will happen. I have the tools and the right situations to have so many options - it’s just weird that I can take FULL advantage of it. I hope this make sense.
But whenever the concept trickles down into relationships, I start to think that they’re just what I want them to be. Like I can blow someone off, and they think I’m an asshole. Or I can decide to be nice, and suddenly Damon’s some nice guy.
My fucking mind is like my sporadically palpitating heart. I don’t know where the fuck it is, or when I’ll decide I’ll think. I would like to think I’m there walking with my mind while it makes ideas and shit, but I feel so stupid when I sit here to try and figure out what I’ve been thinking over the last day or so when I make these posts. Because honestly my mind is nowhere on a day to day basis, and by the time the end of the day hits my brain is fucking reeling from the day.
I really can’t decide my tone for this post… At all.
I don’t know how I feel about anything half the time because I’m too conscious of the fact that I know I have control over how I feel about things.
Most recently I’ve been thinking most about how other people actually think. When I get a blimp of genuine honesty from someone, and they explain how their brain operates it just freaks me out.
I devote so much of my time over obsessing about what’s going on outside of me, but sadly all I can ever consider is one, what people say to me (which is hardly ever the truth (partially through miscommunication/misunderstandings and partially through lies). And two because I only know myself. I only know how I think. I only think I know how every one else thinks—but there’s no chance I’ll ever be right. All I can ever consider to be true is all that I postulate with my little human brain. There so much more to consider outside of my being, but I don’t even have the opportunity.
I spent a while deiciding for myself that nothing would suprise me because everything is possible, but then nothing was exciting.
Most recently I decided everything is whatever it is which is whatever I say. And I say life is simple. I say that some things will not matter because some things are just the way they are. So I say fuck it, and spend more time actively here engadging in what is real- the tangible reality, the words being said to me.
I’m tired of pondering, I’m tired of considering. I’m fine with life being as easy as I say it will be. And that’s what I say it is. At least until I decide something else for myself.
There are so many immature adults in my life. There are so many childish, whiny, baby ass adults in my life it makes me sick. It’s gotten past my teenage “Adults think they know everything!” idea.
I recognize mature adults all the time, cause there really are plenty. But the amounts of ridiculous adults in my life baffles me. And they won’t go away, which is what really gets to me. Not only will they not go away now, but they’ll be all too present when I get a real job, and start a career that matters, and when I meet parents of my children’s friends, and in-laws, and whatever.
I just wish in general people just carried themselves with more dignity.
Like present yourself as if you’re stepping outside of your house: put on some fucking nice clothes and brush your teeth. Take a fucking shower. When you’re speaking to people why is it so difficult to be cordial and polite? What need does anyone see behind being rude to people they don’t know? I don’t know what it is. Something.
Like why isn’t being respectful, cordial and socially submissive just a part of our culture at all? Fuck that. It’s not even my generation- like I said adults are just as worse as us. They fucking raised us. Whatever.
I swear I speak 10X more than the average person. And most of the time I swear I’m talking about something concerning my life in some way. But at the same time, I feel like I tell absolutely no one about anything.
It’s like I go so far out of y way to keep stuff to myself, I forget it’s real through ignoring it subconciously. I hate to sound like a cliche, “misunderstood”, “Oh mah gawd, no one understands me” teen, but I feel this way mostly because I never really talk about myself.
Yesterday I turned 18 years old. I spent the entire day making probably the biggest mission of my entire life.
I woke up at 5 in the morning and started getting ready for school. My friend Yoel met me at my house, and my friend Isak picked us both up with my two other friends in the car.
We met my friend Tara at McDonald’s and we got breakfast and proceeded to get smacked as shit. Went to school—tripped out for about 3 periods. Left with Somala, got more McDonald’s. Met up with my friends Imani and Noah. Got smacked again. Enjoyed some Adventure Time.
Went to Chinatown to say hi to my co-workers. American Apparel’s district manager bought me a cake with my name on it (IWASSOFUCKINGBOOSTED). Met back up with my friends. Got subway. Went home and chilled and had more cake with my fam.
It was the best fucking birthday ever, only because it was filled with my favorite things:
Being around people I love
Doing things that make me happy
And now that I’m technically an “adult” that’s really I want for the rest of my life.
I don’t know how I feel so I just want to spew for a second.
I feel like kids now-a-days need to have their hands in everything. We need to be smart, star athletes. We need to be kids who are amazing at math, history and english. We need to be in the environmental club and class council while running the yearbook. We need to do so much to be excellent students—for the sake of being successful.
There’s no passion for that one thing. No passion for that one endeavor you just know will drive your life.
All of this is coming from this heartbreakingly devastating email my school’s journalism mentor sent to the entire staff. He basically told us he’s ending his 32 year long career of running the best newspapers the county, state and country has ever seen because of our lack of effort. He said we’re amazing kids who are capable of excellence, but our failure to devote any type effort toward the paper has put us into a money driven hole we were still too lazy to dig ourselves out of.
It’s like, we all would rather wait until the very last minute to decide to redeem ourselves. Or to save ourselves. Or to do the right thing. Like we’d rather fuck up until there’s only one way out. Or desperation to pull ourselves out of our self-made shit holes.
I spoke to my friend Somala about this and I feel like it’s the influence of the media on the way we perceive important things, on top of our need to be multi-faceted, and the misconception that someone else can do it, so we don’t have to.
The media gives us political unrest, and genocide, and gang violence and condenses them into emotionless, five second blurbs that proceed and follow equally important and relevant topics. I hate to sound cliche in my examples, but it’s serious!
To be quite honest, I know absolutely nothing about what’s going on in Egypt right now. I figure whatever it is, it’ll resolve itself. This will all be over soon, and we’ll be on to the next thing in a matter of months. And I’m disgusted with myself for the lax attitude.
I want passion. I want drive. I want the motivation to do great things. I don’t know what it is. I’m good at random, uncorrelated things.
I just feel all over the place about what type of resolve can stem from this mentality I feel like our generation faces. I just feel frustrated, because tomorrow I feel like I’ll be back to the same foolish bullshit.
Bullshitting my teachers. Bullshitting myself. Bullshitting my life. Where the fuck is my passion?
I feel like growing up my mom has tried her best to bang into my head what kind of girls I should not only look for but respect.
And all I have to say is that all of 20 something (sometimes 30 something) year old women I see strolling threw the doors of my store, screaming at their 2 or so children, knocking over shit, taking wigs off mannequins, deliberately snagging at things they can’t afford, leaving misplaced micro mesh dresses every which way, getting deodorant stains on black dresses, trying to return 5 times worn crop tops and leggings, patting their orange maybe royal blue weaves, who are on the phone saying they’re in that store, “A-mur-a-kin A-pur-rull”, coming in 5 mins before the store closes with 20 things to try on “real fast”, with their respectable boyfriends standing inches away with the obvious stench of black and milds or alcohol on themselves, gathering in corners with 5 or so of them trying to inconspicuously rip censors off of clothing BLOW ME.
I don’t even understand how these people can even call themselves women. Where do you raise people like this? How terrible of a parent do you have to be?
I apologize, Tumblr. This was basically my entire weekend since all I did was work. -_________-
I’m excited about the fact that I think I know a lot. But what really makes it all that much more exciting is the fact that I know absolutely nothing.
In the grand scheme of my entire life, I don’t know shit. When I’m 30, I’ll be laughing at the maturity, and intellect, and understanding I thought I possessed when I was this age. Like I thought I had shit all figured out.
What makes me more excited (as if this pompous post couldn’t get any more pompous), is the fact that realistically, I feel like I’m mentally and emotionally leaps and bounds ahead of some adults. A lot of adults. At least in their 20’s.