I think things I do not speak (or write). I want things I do not attempt. I do things and do not know why. I wonder if anyone really knows me. I think nobody does. Then I wonder if I really know myself.
When I dream things that are disturbing, I think I must be disturbed. I look at myself for longer than usual in the mirror and think you are too boring to be disturbed. Are any of my thoughts or ideas my own, or just a product of what I've seen and read? I think I am such a waste. I look harder at myself, and I don't understand why I let that happen. Now I can't look at myself anymore, and I would love to smash the mirror, but I know I will regret it later. Pussy.
Most days, I am a positive force. Mentally I know how to be strong. I try not to focus on my own self conscious thoughts. I file them in my brain as selfish and I do not want to be selfish. When I was a teenager, I went through periods of depression. I remember how much I hated myself. I would day dream and night dream that I was one of my friends. That their families were mine, their essence was mine, and that I could slip into their body and brains like a thief into a vault; except instead of taking the treasure, I would become it.
Almost every day of my life I either feel invisible or want to be invisible. I am not sure what this means. The only thing that makes me truly happy are the people I love. Sometimes I like to think about them and how much I love them, just to make myself cry and feel something real.
I have this stupid blog, and my personal journals that I've filled with thoughts, but the truth never really comes out. It stays deep inside. I feed it when I eat, I exercise it when I run, I keep it alive, but never let it out. Maybe I am afraid of what it might look like. Will it shine like a magical, diamond orb, or will it be a dark mass, oozing with blood? My blood. Like some sick parasite I have been sustaining.
I will get up from this table, go about my day, and love every second of it. Because even as I entertain my fucked up, self conscious thoughts, I know how lucky I am, and I know how much I have, and this realization makes me even angrier with myself. What the fuck am I doing? Being worthless again.
