There is something about an empty church or cathedral that I will always find more appealing than seeing it lined up with people. The serenity and feelings of inner peace I can find there is a feeling I can’t really find anywhere else. It’s almost like a sanctuary away from myself, and for a…
Get outta my head, man. This pretty much sums up how I feel right now, along with another post. I’ll try to find that. Not trying to discourage believers or anything. To each his own.
I’ve been writing and rewriting this all week. And I’ve finally said “fuck it”. I’m submitting this post. So hopefully, it makes sense, to you, to me, or to anyone else who decides to read this shit.
I can’t do this. I can’t do us, and I’m sorry. I don’t like being emotionally attached to people more than I have to. And I know that sounds harsh, and like a shit response/answer and I know it sounds cowardly, but it is how it is. I don’t like it when people get too close. So I run, and I push, and I bottle things up because I have to. Being emotionally attached means your defenses are down. And I don’t like vulnerability. I hate being vulnerable. It gives people the chance to hurt you in ways you never thought possible until the pain actually hits you.
And as I write, this, it is cowardly, but honestly, I think its for the better at this point in my life. I’ve seen people blinded by being attached to people, and I’ve been a victim myself. So I’m not gonna go through that process. I’m not gonna put you through that process, because I know how it ends most of the time. You. Me. And whoever else hurt in the end.
You’ve already gotten to me. The texts you send. The card you made. The coming up for my birthday. The talks we had. I let you in more than I normally do. And I hate it. And I’m scared of it. But I loved it at the same time. It’s a paradox of colors and emotions that I’m not entirely sure words can accurately describe. Because you challenge me to be myself and not have any walls up. And you push me out of my comfort zone. And the competitive part in me wants eagerly to respond to the call out. It gets my heart racing and my adrenaline flowing. Then there’s the cautious part which I think is going to eventually steer you away if it already hasn’t. And once you decide to finally walk or run away, I know it’ll have taken so much out of you. I’ll feel guilty because I did hurt you in the end. So I’m looking out for the both of us.
Right now isn’t a good time for me, and I know that whole “It’s not you it’s me” thing is cliché but I honestly, I feel that that’s the right words to use at this point. I have no idea where I am in my life right now. I’m still trying to find me. And right now, I dunno if I’m still knocked down, standing up, or somewhere in between. I feel like I’m in the middle of some intersection and the street lights are all red and green at the same time. I don’t know where to go or where I’m going. I’m lost. This whole topsy turvy limbo thing I got going on is confusing. And I don’t need to drag anyone else down on the way as I figure where the fuck my life has/is gone/going. Especially you. It would be selfish. And I don’t want to be that.
I do appreciate that you where there, that you listened to the things I did choose to tell you. That you didn’t judge (at least that I’m aware of). That you stood your ground. It means/meant a lot. Really. And I can’t thank you enough.
And the reason I told you not to wait is because I know you would have. I feel like you would have. And you can correct me if I’m wrong, but I know you’re that kind of person. You put faith in things that end up not having the desired result. You don’t need my unnecessary weight, my baggage drowning you. You have your own problems to deal with. Asking you to deal with mine would be an asshole thing to do.
I dunno where I’m going with this…
Just know that I’m sorry. I dunno how many times I can say it, or how many languages I can say it in to make you feel better. To let you know that I mean it. Because I know you’re hurt. I can tell by the way you text me back. The way you put up your walls like I put up mine. And I’m sorry that this post is a mess; that I couldn’t say this to your face or over the phone. And I’m sorry that I can’t be the guy that you want/need me to be. And I’m sorry that I’ve cause added stress that you don’t need in your life.
So… I’m sitting here eating Mcnuggets and checking my tumblr. Just got back from the Sam Adams and Wale concert at Lafayette. Waka Flaka showed up. Concert had its up and downs, but overall I had a good time. Roommate’s out which means I can try to study for my O.Chem test in the morning. Relay for life is tomorrow, so participating in that for a while right after I get off work. R.I.P Genevieve Boulden. I love you Grandma. A friend of mine is visiting school, so shout out to Joe M. And my best friend’s, Tony, birthday is Saturday. Which means we’re throwin’ ‘em back all weekend. Lots of shit to do with Easter break next week or something like that. Oh and fuck you Tony for callin me out at lunch today. Even though you were right.
Sorry for this messy random shit. But lots on my mind, need to study. Once this shit is over with tomorrow, I’ll get a couple things off my chest. I hope it makes things better, or at least clears things up. I know I’ve been kind of a d-bag and more of an asshole and I’m sorry.
Anyway, Sandmeyer, Grignard, and whoever else made the fuckin reactions that are haunting me right now. Be ready to role around in your graves as I fuck this O.Chem shit in the ass. You made this crap up to ruin my life, so be ready to get bitch slapped by some dead pimp I’m sending to fuck shit up. Eye for an eye, right? I guess, they’re dead. But it made me feel a little better.
So, I needed some colored paper yesterday for some whack Bio 152 fossil project. Even though I hate learning about plants, protists, and the like, which is essentially Bio 152, I’m not gonna slack off in terms of grades. Much.
Anyway. No one had colored paper to use for a boarder/cover for my board. Luckily, Alex and I were both doing this project together when an idea hit me. We still had gold spray paint left from when we were the Blue Barracudas from Legends of the Hidden Temple on Halloween. Score.
So, we headed back to his Height, which is like a townhouse thing without a kitchen at the university I go to. Next thing I know, he comes running with red and gold spray paint. Needless to say, after giving our boards a quick and awesome spray down outside and glueing our fossils to the board with their labeled crap, we wanted to tag shit.
Luckily for us, Dan, who also lives in the Height came down and joined us. So, with left over computer paper and a box cutter, we made a few stencils (since free hand would prolly be crap) and we all tagged their pong table. It was legit. So, now that we’ve been hooked, either by the flow of creativity and/or the fumes, we plan on painting the pong table white at the end of this semester. Sometime over the summer, or during syllabus week of the next semester, we’re going to go to town on it.
It’s gonna look so badass, even if our graffiti is crap. Hopefully. But the point of this was; I can’t wait to have another spray can in my hand and tag shit up. Am I going to practice? Hopefully. Do I expect to see any improvement if I do? No. Shit like that takes more than just practice to get down. I dunno if I have the mind/heart to be good at it. But it was fun, so I’m gonna continue.
New addiction? Maybe. I hope so. Now that I’ve quit playing WoW (yes, go ahead and judge me), I need something to keep me occupied during the weekdays.