Blue Future @blue-future - Tumblr Blog

Posts

The problem is, everything I do, I do to make someone else happy.

It inevitably falls apart.

And they go on to say;

You should do what makes you happy.

They do not realise that happiness is an alien concept for me.

It does not rest in my chest or in my mind.

I cannot summon it, wrangle it, or control it.

My passions are dead.

The only happiness I have left is that which I find in others.

And when they leave

so does my happiness.

Just once I'd like someone to understand that.

Im not built for love.

I feel things too hard

too quickly

And its always over too soon

when they can’t handle the force of my dam

breaking and washing everything away with it

If you left me I would understand.

I would leave me too.

Stream of

I guess im having to confront parts of my personality that are cancerous. When I like somebody my heart just takes over and it consumes me, I can't get that person out of my head and everything I am feels like it hinges on them. It's a lot to take in. I think it scares most people off because in normally so blah and regular and apathetic. I don't know how to turn off these fucking parts of me, and although I try and I try to work on it, it never changes. And then I get clingy and annoying and they hate me. They always tend to hate me. So I go for disconnected unavailable people so it never works out so I never have to confront the empty hollow person that I am just begging to be filled in by somebody else's soul. And I guess this is the truth of it.

How do you turn off the dark parts of your brain.

When you look around and there’s no one to turn to

you’re so used to being strong, to keeping people away from harm

but all those fortress walls that make others feel safe

you’re just trapped on the other side

building them up endlessly from the outside.

They say “I feel so safe with you”

but they’re not with you.

They’re in your perimeters, warm by your hearth

but you’re in the shadows

warding away the beasts

more animal than man now.

Your heart is dead.

What is sadder;

The man who thinks himself a god, or the god who thinks himself a man?

A nothing that thinks himself to be everything, or an everything that thinks himself to be nothing?

Click to find out more.

Turn to page 7.

Channel 7 at 7/8c.

There’s no conclusion here.

Why are you like this

Sometimes I dont know where I stand. She says she’s shy and doesnt know how to start the conversation. Am I being the brave one, going first? Or am I just bothering her at this point?

I see no value in me. In who I am. In what I can offer. So to me its always the latter.

I’ve watched the excitement slip from every person I’ve ever known. Why would you think this would be any different.

I crucify myself

Every memory is a nail

Is it bad when the only character you associate with are the wrong ones?

The bad examples. The life ruiners. The broken messes.

I dont think I’m a mess.

But neither were they, at some point.

“I’ve got a plan”

I tell myself

As I ignore the girl I think I love

Pretending to be busy at work

So as to not reveal how empty I feel right now

“It’s part of the plan”

I tell myself

As she sends a message checking that I’m okay

And part of my heart

Flares up in protest

Against this stupid game I’m playing

“There’s a plan in place”

I tell myself

Knowing that this plan has doomed me

That nothing good has ever come of it

“Its under control”

I tell myself

As she sends another message

Unaware of the game I play

Unaware of the loss I feel

Unaware of how desperately I want to respond

But I can’t

“The plan”

I say

To no one

I just want to sit in silence

And not think

And not feel

And not be

Let the currents of fate figure this out in my stead

Take me to the nearest shore and drop me off

Abandon me until all of this makes sense

Its not the world that is complicated

Its my head

The great ruiner of all things

But to turn it off

Just for a day an hour a minute

But to turn it off

And sit in silence.

The world has other plans.

I know the parts of me that are bad.

I see them.

I feel them.

I sense them coming on. I see their effect on me. I see everything as it happens, every aching emotion, every errant thought, as if in slow motion.

The camera rotates around me.

Draws out every word with a soundtrack equally as stark, equally as harsh, equally as undeserving of forgiveness.

Why can’t I stop them?

If forewarned is forearmed, why am I so powerless?

I just wish I was stronger.

Strong enough to survive Me.

I see now that the problem was always me.

I’m selfish.

I’m greedy.

I’m shallow.

Everybody listens to the sweetness of my words and not what they actually say. I try to warn them. I say “I am a user”, “I am a consumer”, “I am jealous and petty and hateful and hollow”

And the truth is, I need that validation.

I need all of your attention all of the time.

I am a child. A selfish little nothing that cannot look past his own faults and insecurities.

For every happy moment there is an aching empty depth

For every laugh shared then is an angry wanting hunger

I cannot foresee why a person would love me.

When my love is fire and cancer and infection.

My love is a tumour. It grows inside of a person, draining everything that they are, killing everything that they are.

And I let it happen because, for those short sweet moments, it makes me feel like a normal human being.

I let a person die on the inside so I can feel alive on the outside.

So fleeting.

So empty.

I have the perfect body

And sometimes I am lucky enough

That she sleeps next to me in bed

Entertainment

To other people, your suffering is entertainment.

Friends or family, lovers or strangers.

They listen to your drama to escape from their own lives. Or to share their worldly wisdom with you, warranted or otherwise. Or to see the mistakes of their past reflected in your future.

It is entertainment to them.

Anything they give you back is hollow. Just a shadow of a real feeling they felt for themselves once, and now mimic as you tell your tale.

They'll walk away none the wiser, and take none of it with them.

All their concern is temporary, fleeting by and gone just as quick as your words have faded

Back to their magazines and their TV shows and their next tragedy to occupy their attention moment to moment to moment to moment to moment.

The Trick

The trick is to overshare all the tiny pointless minutae in your life. Give them everything of zero value. Never stop, never silent.

And then, years later, you'll be gone and people will slowly realise that you never once said anything of worth. That you never once revealed anything about who you are. That the movement of your soul are as much a mystery to them today as they were the day you met.

You'll enter their life a shadow, and leave it the same way.

This is the trick to living a zero sum life. Give nothing away. Come with nothing, and go with nothing. Help just enough, say just enough, feel just enough.

This won't free you from pain. You'll suffer twice as much as the next person. Learning their tragedy, their pain. Draining your empathy. And going unknown in turn.

But it's important.

And if you've ever revealed anything about yourself. And if you've ever felt something and told someone. And if you've ever done something and needed to brag.

This is what you're here to avoid. Let the braggarts brag and let the sheep bleet and you live you life without ever needing their recognition, their notice, their attention.

And if you can live this solitary life, you are blessed. You live by your own guidance, attentive only to yourself, reliant on nobody.

People call you a good listener. People can say they know you. People can even say they love you. And all of these things might be true.

But one day they shall all come to realise that all you have fed them is trivialities and empty words. And this is a kindness to them.

This is the trick.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Blue Future