Am I narcissist? I don't know. I do spend an awful lot of time writing down my thoughts and feelings about the most pathetically mundane aspects of my life. Part of me says that I should suck it up, stop whining to strangers online, and forget about myself. Just go ahead and live life and try to do something somewhat worthwhile. Stop coddling myself. Part of me thinks that I should just curl up in a corner somewhere and wait for the world to be the way it was supposed to be when I was young and things were semi-normal if not happy.
Part of me thinks I should take a butcher's knife and slit my throat from cartaroid to jugular and not be found until the stench overpowers the neighboring apartments.
This journal is supposed to be about me letting go of the layers of armor that weigh me down but maybe we need the armor. Maybe I'm completely wrong in my views on interpersonal relationships. Maybe distance is good, serious and meaningful connection is bad, bullshit is neccesary, and we should all just get over ourselves.
Maybe there is a good and humanity is just a bundle of sinners and psycopaths.
I want to KNOW something. I want proof that I'm not the only human in a world of aliens. I want proof that if I work hard and devote my life to anything it will matter to SOMEONE, even if it's just to me. Jesus Christ I don't understand how people LIVE with all this uncertainty. Most people seem to live life and survive it and even, get this, ENJOY it. They enjoy it. HOW?
Sometimes I feel like I'm playing a game but I don't know the rules.
Scratch that, I always feel like I'm playing a game but I don't know the rules. Nobody ever bothered to tell me and my social sense is so fucked up that my best bet is just not to speak to anybody. I commented on some guy's LiveJournal and he basically made it clear that he didn't appreciate it, even though he had said in an earlier post that comments from people he didn't know were welcomed. I won't be doing that again.
I think I deserve all my misery, my troubles, my insecurity, my loneliness. There's something missing within me, something deep and essential. Something that real boys have that allows them to behave properly and study for tests and just be well adjusted and social people. Something that allows them to smoke pot without worrying about the consequences and not have spiritual crisis over hypothetical sexual encounters which will never happen.
I just don't know what it is.
I changed my music to REM and I felt the need to tell you, lest you believe that I wrote all of this under the influence of Blood Sugar Sex Magic. Not that you care. Not that you should care. Not that you could care.
It's a great irony of life that the people who are neediest are the least desireable. We have to drag ourselves out of our own crisis (do not know the plural, do not care what the plural is. Now YOU figure out whether those last two sentences were truncated statements about my opinion or directives from me as to what your opinion should be.) I feel like the husk of the corn of society, peeled away from the main body and dropped into a shopping bag for later disposal.
I should never have been born, but I was. What now?