Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.
2 years or maybe a little more or maybe a little less has passed. nothing has changed. much anyway. just a little older, a little more fixed in my ways, a little more self-absorbed, stupid, stubborn and maybe a little stronger or weaker (depending on whether you're awake, asleep or waiting for either one)
but it's been long enough to have forgotten how it feels to be writing for the public. or perhaps it's never been abt writing to the public, but to those that you could never direct the words to. or perhaps a desperate attempt to figure out the paradox about screaming somewhere no one can hear you. is it sound? is it communication? does it exist? does it matter?
it feels different now though. almost as if this is a an attempt to leave my mark of existence somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. it's not for the response, or for readership but of reality, existence and the undeniable fact that it's here, i'm here and if no one know's it's okay. because i do, and that's the only part that matters.
there's no gossip here. no words of hate hate hate hate maybe love hate hate hate and hate. and it makes me sick because that mean it's just about me me me me me and me. and we're not supposed to think about me because that causes pride pride pride and a ticket for free falling. and i'm afraid of heights. everyone is afraid of heights. but i'm proud that there's no gossip, and no need to fling angry words at people, and a start to show that i don't care. don't care, care not, careless. socialising dosen't seem worth it because it's a battle for attentionattentionattention and i can't give it all, can't give it up.
and it's never about putting yourself out there to be hurt because that's a cliche and everyone knows cliches are annoying and should be grown out of. and i'm in my last teenage year so i should be mature and old old old enough to be sensible. it's about caring enough, giving enough or not caring at all. and maybe family is enough even though they're not here and so far away. and you seldom speak to them but you love love love them so much it hurts to just smell the wisp of loosing them. i don't love anyone else that much. because for once it's not about expectation, not about need or want or caring and concern. it's not about how much i feel about you and how much you will change my life or how you make me good make me feel good make me whole. it's just because.