I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up. My mind hasn't been in enough turmoil to write anything interesting, but bloody hell, was it in turmoil last night!
I wrote this by hand in my journal and I'm transcribing it here, because it's interesting (to me, at least). This was all written within 40 minutes or so...and I make constant references to Doctor Who, which, by the way, has become basically my manual for life.
I didn't know confusion could turn to burning anger, cold anger, hopelessness, and resolution in one hour (in that order).
AUGUST 3rd, 2008
I apologise my daily entries have lagged off a bit...I really don't have an excuse. Summer is coming to a close, and much too soon.
I saw the DW season finale again today. Cried this time. Made me think. I think I was sleep deprived, but it made me think. It wasn't the episode itself, it was the imprint it left in my mind. The primary thought?
"What the hell am I doing here?"
My life. It's all just filler space, really. For me, at least. It feels...wrong. Off. Like I'm waiting. Always waiting. Always preparing. For what? Everything just seems terribly insignificant. Even me.
...I'm not special. Nobody is. But there are very few people with whom I feel like I belong. I don't fit. I'm the odd cog in the clock, the fifth wheel. So why am I here?
Am I here to wait?
Or am I just...another? A meaningless, tiny human life, one of billions?
Something is wrong with the world, and I don't know what. It's driving me mad.
Or maybe that's the naive part of me, vainly hoping I'm special. Like every single other human on Earth. I'm not...am I?
I'm going to ask myself this. Uber-nerd warning.
He'd say it weren't true. All humans've got something.
But he doesn't exist.
Maybe that's why it hurts so much. Deluded vivions of what could be, fantastic hopes and reams, all the while believeing I was destined for something; when suddenly, everything everyone's been telling you all along hits and you realise your hopes and dreams have been effectively smashed to splinters by the mediocrity of the minds of your peers, those who gave up a long time ago.
It took fifteen years, but they did it, goddamnit. I give up.
I'm desperately hoping this isn't another shift. I can't DEAL with that right now.
What am I? Useless? Space wasting. Is that it?
No. Because now, I'm destroying the planet, too! I'm releasing DEADLY Greenhouse Gases just by BREATHING. I choose to utilise the technology my ancestors spent LIFETIMES developing, that they DIED for, and now we're all going to kill ourselves!
I'm apparently good at a lot of things. Acting. Music. Art. Writing. Thinking. Debate.
The issue with gbeing good at everything is that I'm great at nothing.
Sure, I can write well, get first chair, a debate award, and draw Beethoven in green pastel, but then there's somebody else that can do each of those things ten times better than I can. And there's someone for every category.
So what am I supposed to do, here? I can't focus on all of them. What's my strength?
Maybe that's just it. My reason for existing is to be an accessory for those who can actually succeed.
At least it's a purpose. The Doctor couldn't cope without his companions, so they say.
Why am I saying this?
I don't give up. It's not who I am.
If I want to change things...maybe I should make some postive shifts.
Maybe I should keep my word.
Maybe I should focus.
Be less quick to talk, to judge, and quicker to compliment.
Maybe I should apologise like I mean it.
Maybe I should banish these thoughts and be better than I think I can be.
Maybe I should write, play, draw, and act because I love it, not because I'm trying to impress anyone or live out their youth for them.
Maybe I should converve.
Maybe I should laugh, and dance, and cry, and speak my mind as a please, and not care what they think. They don't care what I say.
Maybe I should do things right away.
Maybe I should be more humble.
And then, maybe things will change.
I've got a weird mind.
BTW, if you read my journal, please let me know...I need to know who my readers are.
Veni, Vidi, Vici
Basically, a summary of what goes on in my mind at any particular time. Journals are the ultimate insight into a person's mind, and I have no shame!