To me, it feels completely bizarre writing a blog. I won’t attempt to be poetic. Besides it making me feel pretentious, I can so scarcely describe my feelings accurately- in any format- to a point where it makes sense even to myself, let alone hinting at cryptic messages to others. I’m also fully aware that I will talk far too much about myself, contributing heavily to feelings of selfishness. Though I suppose not writing in regards to yourself somewhat defies the point of blogs. I will waffle a hell of a lot. Difficult to tell huh?
There are so many things going on in my head that the mere thought of writing everything down is difficult to comprehend. Even if I was capable of such, would I really want to? I guess seeing your thoughts laid down in print before you is like having confirmation that they, sadly, are true. No matter what steps you take to deny them. Generally I find comfort entertaining the notion that I am a completely different being to myself, yet when I come out of my fantasy-land stupor reality hits just as hard as ever. If I am honest, do I really want people to have an insight into my head? No matter how tiny a part of me opens up now, I can’t help but feel vulnerable. As though I’ve left the door wide open for people to barge in and manipulate me in whatever way they see fit. Neither is it a particularly joyous feeling to know (and have people comment on the fact) that you, as a being, are pretty abnormal. And most definitely not in a good way. Apologises now to anyone who may be reading this; I’m finding it pretty tedious myself to merely write it.
It’s been pointed out to me recently that I ask ‘why?’ a lot. Now while this may be a good thing for furthering my education, it got me thinking. I question everything. I’m not content with just looking at things, and seeing them how they are. I have to break things down, tear them apart and come up with so many different variations on my conclusion that it makes my brain ache. Why do I have to question other people’s thoughts and motives? Why is it so easy to convince myself that any positive attitude or remark made towards me is a lie? Yet the negative remarks are so quickly absorbed.
I am a difficult person to be around in any shape or form. That I have never shied away from admitting. There’s a constant battle in my mind as to whether I should allow myself to be around people. I despise the fact that no matter how hard I try, I am incapable of being a decent human being. I irritate the hell out of everyone, myself included. I can not even have a minor conversation with out my weirdness seeping out, and inflicting all my oddities upon everyone. My moods appear inconsistent and irrational to all. I can’t really bring myself to tell them why I am the way I am, the little of it that I know myself at any rate. Why would I want people I care about to be subjected to a plague?
Already I hate this completely incoherent piece of garble. I know I will be angry with myself for posting it up. But it’s stopping. Bad or good.