So I’ve decided to spill it; the beans, the juice, my guts… Whatever you want to call it, consider it spilled.
Up to this point, I feel like I’ve done an excellent job of keeping just about everything true about myself, to myself… and for good reason - what people don’t know, people can’t use against you. I guess that’s my first confession. I fucking despise the way people operate. The way people go out of their way to find things out, only to throw them senselessly (BLINDLY) into conversation later. I don’t know if its intentional, (I guess that sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t,) but frankly, it gets to me. Its the same kind of prying aggravation I feel when someone starts moving shit around in my car, or on my computer table. Stop putting hills in my rugs! Please. Call me OCD but if I put something somewhere, chances are, I wanted it there and it should remain that way. Its the same for anyone else. Let one’s own business remain that way.
Anyway.
I’ve fallen into a depression lately - not emotionally per say, but I feel like my ability to open up to people has peaked over the past two years. I used to be so ready to say anything, without caring how it affected me, but recently I’ve become so protective of myself, not because I’m afraid of getting hurt by others, but because I might make myself look bad. It’s disgusting. I never used to be so self-absorbed. Its like in every situation, I’m wearing a mask… Not just one mask, in fact, but many masks; Masks to hide masks between people - to hide certain sides of myself from those who disapprove where others don’t. I try so hard to win the approval of everyone. Why? Fucked if I know. I just love being the center of attention I guess.
And all this time I thought myself to be humble.
No sir.
But then, who really is humble?
Everyone wants to be loved, right? So am I wrong in looking out for my own well being? Who knows? It makes me sick to my stomach, regardless. I’ve unknowingly stumbled across so many insecurities lately that I feel like a different person at times. It’s like I’ve been born all over again, to a world where I have to carry myself differently. I’m still opinionated, I’m still eagerly in search of answers, but my motives have changed. I do it for myself now; for the praise and admiration I earn as a result of my actions, not for the simple pleasure found in just “doing it”.
Maybe its all just part of growing up, as they say. Maturing… You know? But does it continue to change? Will I stop acting like such an asshole? Who knows. It worries me. I don’t want to be like this, but its who I’ve become… What’s worse is that I don’t know who or what to blame for the transformation. That would be too easy, right?
I digress.
I’ve got a lot of things on my plate. My dreams are coming true right before my very eyes - I have a band - We’re going somewhere - This time next year I hope I’m far, far away from this place. I want to see Japan. I’ve wanted to see Japan for a while now; call it a calling. Haha. I don’t know what I want when I get there - I don’t even like the hustle of big cities for too long. Gives me a headache. But there’s something about it. I’ll see it soon enough.
The repetition of every day life kills. It ruins the flow of my creative juices. No joke. On days that I sleep in, I go to bed feeling exhausted, and yet, I never sleep on the weekends, when I should want rest. I don’t. It would be a waste of freedom. Why spend time on parole in seclusion, you know? I’m only tired on weekdays - only when I know I have to drag myself out of my fucking room to take a shower and go to school, and then to work. Maybe I’m not tired. Maybe it’s just a natural defense against running myself into the ground with routine. I feel pale, and sick, and run down… For no reason. I eat right. I see the light of day. I breathe fresh air all the time. I love the outdoors. Shit. I love my life. But between Monday and Thursday I feel so transient… My head isn’t in the clouds - My feet aren’t on the ground. Where am I?
I don’t know, but frankly, it sucks.
I have some good friends. We get hammered sometimes and forget about everything. The occasional dramatic scene is worth it. People naturally don’t get along with one another. It’s all a matter of how tolerant people are. I have some tolerant friends. In turn, I think I put up with my share of bullshit. It’s like a cycle of tough loving. But it works. It keeps me sane. In the end I think we really do love each other. Awww.
I also like to kiss people. It gets me into trouble sometimes. Whatever. Certain individuals need to stop looking for love in the wrong places.
—I can’t talk.
—I’ve found love in the worst places.
—Its not an easy thing to deal with.
—Doesn’t change the way I feel about them.
—Its ok.
—As long as I’m happy.
There I go being selfish again.
___I’m done confessing for now. Take from this what you will.
Love,
Alexander William Gaskarth
*I feel better.*
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
titsay
