A place that I miss

Maybe what I do isn't enough.  
Maybe I'm too bitter, too angry at all of the people I feel fail me.  
Maybe that ruins me, the good parts of me for everyone and that is why everyone keeps their distance.  Maybe I hate people too quickly,
Maybe I resent their non-presence,
Maybe things for me aren't as easy as they seem to everyone
Maybe I don't take things easy
Maybe I take meaning from the things people do and say
Maybe I don't want to be otherwise
Maybe I think interpreting silences and words makes sense
Maybe I am too emotional
Maybe people should care more about their actions
Maybe people should care more about their inaction,
Maybe I should stop caring.

I don't think that this makes me a bad person - caring what my friends do, what my boyfriend says, when my parents aren't there.  Maybe I care too much about it all, I let it hurt me.  I need to become stronger.  Being attached to one person like that, I've let my guard down, I've let my fleshy bits drip into pirana-infested waters.  I'm not saying people are piranas, although they are, and that metaphor has been overused like an old prostitute.  Ah, well.  I just feel like all people do lately is let me down because maybe I set my expectations too high.  I guess it's easy to transfer your expectations onto one person when everyone else dips below the expected.  Maybe that makes it too difficult for him to be with me - I don't know.  Maybe I expect too much of him, maybe I expect too much of everyone.  But I feel awfully secluded.

I feel less lonely with books, with music.  I've even realized that I'm into an indie version of country music.  Check me out.  I'm growing all by myself, within myself.  Maybe that's the way I'm supposed to be: solitary.  If that's the way I work, then why not, I guess?  It just seems like such a lonely life.  Being a writer is glamourized but I think that it's anti-social.  I think it's voyeuristic and has nothing to do with your own experience.  I feel trapped inside my life sometimes, I don't have chances to be someone different, in a different setting, with different hobbies and friends.  Sometimes that's all I want to be: a vegetarian cooking vagabond in Southern France with marijuana smoking friends and several rotating lovers with no genital diseases - a few dogs and a horse and a vineyard.  Not a vulnerable university transfer student in a middle class suburb in Ontario, Canada with a passion for reading and writing but none for editing.  I want East.  I want sea.  I want nicer people and better friends.  Older friends.  I think I like working more than I like socializing with my so-called friends, simply because of the range of people I get to talk to and be around - even if they are all dirty bastards, at least sex is something new and vulgar.  At least it's something.

Down the street from temptation,
Another world might be closer than this.
Another world might be simpler than this -
this type of people that I don't understand.
Maybe it's ennui again,
Maybe it's me.


Ciao. Ak.

What is it about fall?

I don't know.  Maybe it's the chill, maybe the wind, maybe the endless hours of shopping for winter coats.  But it makes me feel a little bit more alone than usual.  I mean, I'm not really lonely, but it is now that I realize my aloneness all the more abruptly.

It makes me realize that time passes, and quickly, and that I have very little great things to hold on to.  But they are great things, and I should hold on to them as tightly as I possibly can.  I just don't want to feel like I'm grasping at air, and sometimes that's exactly how I feel: like there is nothing for me to hold on to when I'm fainting.

I feel like maybe this is the period in my life when things are transitory, but then again, maybe it isn't.  Before I used to think that everything stopped at middle age: it was a preconception I had of my future, I would build up parts of it until I got a perfect whole, and then, then I would be done.  But it doesn't work like that, from what I can see.  You work at things your whole life - creating them, fixing them, losing them.  And it doesn't get any easier and nobody gives you any tips because you never reach a level like you do in a video game.  Every single time it is hard and you have to claw your way into it and claw down to keep yourself in it, and sometimes it just feels exhausting.  And sometimes, it is just nothing.

People get married and people become single parents and people are lost, everywhere.  On tv shows, in movies, in real life, even.  Even in real life people don't have a clue what to do and that was never written in in a script - it is just the way it is.  So sometimes, I feel like life is exactly like trying to decipher a poem in my first year English class: finding meaning where none exists.  Now, I generally tend to lean on the optimistic side of things, but sometimes I can't help myself.  Negativity is my poison, if you shall say.  It is what I prefer to lean on when things aren't making sense or just.... happening.

I think that I've already been through this, that's what makes this so frustrating: I've already had these doubts... now I thought things were supposed to move forward?  Or something?

Apparently it doesn't work like that either.. I guess things that eat away at you don't just go away because you give them some thought - they just develop and eat away at your subconscious.  If I were to put it in literal terms, I would name all the same things I always do: nobody has any time nowadays.  Including more specifically my best friends.  Especially one, and the other one too and sometimes I think I am good at pushing people away.

Real good.

But I can't tell because no matter how hard I try, I'm always stuck inside my brain.  I just wish somebody  would psychoanalyze me.  I really should go talk to a psychologist because sometimes it's hard to make sense of your own life by yourself.  Like for example: why did I stop illegally downloading music?  I don't know.  Why have I pushed away hundreds of people in the past 10 years or so? Was it me growing up? Was it prejudice? Was it self-loathing?  I wish I knew.

Anyway, it's time to go describe the beginning of the universe.

Somehow, even though my boyfriend dropped by today and gave me a hug and a kiss and told me he loved me, I am feeling a little down.  Maybe it's the hormonal imbalance - ie. my period.  It probably is, I just hate feeling like this so often.

Ciao. Ak.