I stood in darkness. At 5' 9" I tried to reach the ceiling with my fingers. I stood on my tippy toes. I tried multiple times. I could never touch the ceiling.
I'm listening to the new Our Lady Peace album. I keep trying to touch the ceiling with my fingers. I can't reach. I come close, but never touch. Were ceilings made for me not to touch?
I drank a lot of vodka tonight. I could jump to reach the ceiling, if I wanted. But it feels like cheating. Why I can't I reach it fairly? Was the world designed to be cheated?
Damn this album is good. Before it I listened to the new Metric album. Slightly less intoxicated. It was still good. But it still makes me depressed. Why?
Because I'm alone. I can't share any of the art I enjoy. I know this is too much. I know no one will want to read the drunk ramblings of a lonely boy. Boy. I am a boy. A 19 year old boy. Soon I'll be a 20 year old boy. Half-way to being a 40-year old virgin. Hah. Stupid movie.
Why do these songs speak to me so well? I've never experienced personally their meaning, have I? Maybe. Maybe only vicariously. Maybe not. Sometimes I put so much meaning into a single person that they can't fulfill that meaning. I'm disappointed, and yet I feel stupid for expecting so much. They are just people. Like me.
I remember people I told everything to. Almost. Only one person. That person is gone now. Almost.
I try to create a perfect world. I try to be a perfect person and find perfect people to befriend and be a part of my perfect world. No such person exists. I am full of faults. Everyone I meet is full of faults. Is that beautiful? Maybe. I think they are beautiful. I think I am ugly. Why? Am I so insecure? Do I really think they're beautiful?
Not all the time. Sometimes I hate everyone. Sometimes I feel like if everyone would be a little more compassionate.... If what? I don't even know. Just that I wish. How stupid of me.
Humanity. Personality. Greed. What am I saying? Betrayal.
I have many people I call "friend." I call them friend in person. I introduce them as friends to people they don't know. To strangers. But I am not a stranger.
As someone who knows... I only I have three friends. Is that pathetic? One of those friends I don't trust. That same friend betrays me consistently. Why? I know why. Because of what I can give him. Another of those three is apathetic. Toward everything. Unsure, just going wherever the wind takes him. I like him best. The last friend I hardly see. He's intelligent and wise. I don't know if he has things figured out, but he looks satisfied. I'm not satisfied. He lives as equal quality of life, but is more satisfied than me.
Are women friends? Perhaps I should rephrase that. Are people of the opposite sex friends? I've never been the opposite sex.
I sometimes thing of all the things I would never admit. That I have admitted. To only one person on earth. To a lesser extent a second person? Why am I so secretive? Is it because I have terrible things to say? Or is it because I am shy to say things most people say?
No. I am different. I do not think the same way others think. Even in this writing I have be translating, converting what thoughts in my brain occur. Most will not even be understood. Why do I want to say this? Why do I want to share with stangers what I don't share with people I know intimately? Because I don't care. Because I am drunk.
Who cares? When you divulge your secrets to someone. No one. Not you, not the listener. Why? I don't know. Have you found the right person to tell these things? Does the right person exist?
For a long time I thought that that person could be created. Molded. To what I needed them to be. Not that I didn't care who they were. Not that I didn't want to help them as well. But that I wanted to create something that could help me as well. Such creation is impossible.
Maybe one day I can find something created just for me. Without my molding. But its unlikely. Even I know that.
Maybe you think I'm wacky. That I just don't go to enough parties or get laid. Perhaps you're right. But every party I've been to I've hated. Girls. Topless. Whatever. They're still idiots. They don't know anything, they have no complex emotions. Their emotions are so limitied. I want something more. Sometimes I find that something more. Sometimes I delved deep into the psyche of another person. They tell me things from deep within that I've never told another soul. I accept them. I console them. Why? When I have never been given such grace before? I don't know. But they are beautiful people. I find myself keenly intereseted in every human being's past, their story, their reason. I understand them. I can preditct them. I know what makes them happy. But they can never quite figure out me.
I haven't exactly been a loner. Everyone 2 years since the year I was born I moved. Ottawa, Lahr, Trenton, Toronto, Kingston, Ottawa again... Maybe. I don't remember. Since then I've lived in only Ottawa. But Every time I moved I met people. I became friends with some gang of kids or another. Does that make me a loner? Am I really weird if I can find people everytime I go to a new place? Or am I only a loner now that I have the instropection of an adolescent. Adolescent because although I have the rights of a an adult, I am still a kid in every important aspect.
Today I was ditched. Pretty much. I called someone to chill. They said they were sick. Two hours later I called someone else. The same person was having fun playing Halo with the person I called and some other people. Can't say I was surprised. Can't say I didn't bother me a little. It doesn't matter. But it was one of my three only 'friends.'
I sometimes think I have more than three friends. I sometimes start including people I only know online. People I talk to an awful lot. But are they really my friends? Do they really value me? No.
So why? Why do I keep writing? No good reason. The same as everyone else.
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