The things we learn, the people we meet, the way we deal with challenges. This is what makes us. This is constantly in flux, and will be completely different in 2 weeks, 5 years, 50 years.

Every experience is there for a reason, and although we may fall over there’s always opportunities to stand up and laugh it off. If you continually blame the world for your problems then the problems are always going to pelt back to you with the same results.

Each person that means something to us crosses our paths for a reason. They may travel with us for a short time, or a lifetime, but sometimes it is important to realise the destinction. Sometimes there comes a point where there’s too much give and not enough take. We take our friends for granted. You know their secrets, their insecurities, their habits. But what does it really mean to be someones friend when you know that all it causes is drama. Resentment.

If we were willing to accept that it’s not beneficial anymore, maybe we could realise that you are hurting yourself, and this isn’t about me. It never was.

That I tried to help, but you don’t want it. You’re in pain, and you are just trying to cover it, rather than let it go.

I’ve felt pain. I know that there are dark dark dark times, where it feels like your heart is tied with string which is being pulled tighter and tighter. Where your entire body is channeling through that centre and your pulse is racing. Where you want it to stop.

I know the next part too. The numb part, when it feels like you prefer to be a zombie of yourself, and none of it is worth the pain.

One of my strongest philosophies is that you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves. You don’t want to help yourself. You want things to just fall into place. You crowd your life with every imaginable activity, so busy that you can’t stop to cry. It’s not going away unless you deal with it.

I never want to hurt you, I tried to support you. But you gave up long ago. The only way to support you was to follow your instruction, and I get reprimanded for it.

If I care about others, I “betray you”. I’m sorry, I’ll be the fall guy, but I know it’s not me you’re mad at. You are just mad. Angry at the world for what one douche bag did.

He’s never been worthy of you. Ever. And all of your friends can see it, why can’t you?

You push them away.

There are so many parrallels between our stories. The drama, the self destruction, the play for power to have some control over your life.

But apparently you can’t talk to me. I’m mature, and professional as possible. But I am the enemy. And that is fine. Because it’s not about me. It’s about you and your pain.

I hope you work it out. And I hope we can at least patch things up so it’s not awkward.

I feel bad about assaulting you! I’m sorry. Regardless of whether you have a girl or not, I took negligent advantage of the situation. You’re a guy with an ego, so I know I can’t say anything to you, but I like you. I’m at a stage in my life where that isn’t really common, I don’t meet any decent guys that I connect with and so it pisses me off that you have this incredibly hot girlfriend, which you deserve, and yet the crazy drunk chick still had her way. The fact is I’m insecure. You don’t help that with your bullshit! You make me make the moves, and for whatever reason afterwards I feel like it’s my fault. It takes two to tango. I feel like a fool enough already. I know you have your crazy life going well right now, your new career, you girlfriend, etc. But it is annoying that the universe only let’s me fall for guys I can’t have. You know I like you! I told you when I was drunk. You just want a fuck however, so it doesn’t matter, it never did. I dont want your babies, I just don’t get why I like guys I can’t even screw around with. I have needs. Lol. Point is I feel bad for the way I acted. I don’t have the capacity to feel guilty for your situation, and I don’t think I should take responsibility for that. But in isolation to your home context, I could have been a lot more mature. And… You better not have an STI.

I’m Not Deluding Myself With Thoughts Of You!

Often when I feel unwell about something it is not because I am filled with bad bacteria and viral infections. Rather there is an ill alignment of my chakras, my spirit is in some way damaged or in angst. I don'tlike this feeling. It fills me up from the soles of my feet to my head. As a result I try to avoid avoid avoid. Anything which makes me confront the issue is an object of which I avoid. Steer clear. I hate thinking. I hate this angst, but more than anything I hate knowing there’s a decision I need to make and until I do ?I’m going to continue to feel like this.

I don’t want to be at work today. I don’t want to be anywhere. I want to be walking through a nature reserve with an ipod and an empty journal. I want to be smelling the freash air and choosing a sunny rock to sit and write.

It’s bullshit, because I’m not a writer. Not really. I’m not an artist. A performer. I’m a phoney. Fauxney? I don’t know. I hate that in life we have to “be” something. Defined by a concious stream of choices and opportunities. I used to be defined by passion. But now passion is vacant in my eyes and in my mind. This ommission from my life is what makes me feel empty. I can create faux passion, but after awhile the paint begins to peel and underneath people can see that I’m not happy. Pretending.

I hate people. I hate life. I dont’ want to be the pessimist, but being the optimist, the listener, the wise one, is tiring., after awhile I think I’m going to be left an empty shell, and a hypocrit.

Absense from love, love being the strongest passion, the other being hate. I guess I have some passion for life then… that being that I hate it.

Work makes me angry, because it’s not where I want to be. A means to an end that I know not of. I want to wake up one day and just realise what I want. At least thenI can take steps to get there. Still so young. But unsure..

I miss passion. More than anything I miss passion.When I find that again I’ll be happy.

Work is draining. I’ve started lying to her. I am not happy about that at all. When you start lying it’s usually a bad sign. I don’t want to be vicious. Why can’t I just tell her I don’t like her work ethic? Why can’t I just tell her I am annoyed about the Thursay and it was a mere suggestion from Jodi, and the rest of it is me. I’m a coward… Grrr.

I dunno. Work is making me feel uneasy. it’s an escape from my real reality, but it takes so much of my time that it takes away from working out what I really want to do with my life. I’m only 22, so I could sit down today and plan out my life or I could just live it, but right now I’m blinded to the opportuinities. the ones I need to work towards and the ones that might just present themselves. I want to be a believer in the bigger picture, that what’s meant to be will be, but it’s hard to keep up spirits when your spirit is unwell.

Sometimes you need to make your bed. Sometimes you need to sleep in it. Sometimes you need to hope that the sun will wake you up in the morning, because if all else fails your alarm will never go off, and you’ll be comatose.

I figure that I’m still me. I still have the same dreams. Like coloured peices of connfetti, all in seperate bags. Until someone decided to put them all in a mixing bowl and throw them into the wind.

I’m still me. I still want things… but it’s not quite as concrete. It’s much more contradicting. And forever becoming more unattainable.

I want to be one of those people who simply wake in the morning and know. Just know that it’s what they want, that and only that.

Life is short one minute, and the next minute it’s forever.

There was a point of no return, in which peoples opinions stop mattering. Where the appreciation for everything stopped being a significant factor.

I dont’ care who you are, nor do I care what you think right now. As selfish as that is. I want to own my creativity. I want to collaborate, of course, but this isn’t about the bigger picture anymore. This is about me. My life. When it started becoming selfish I should have realised this was going to get dangerous. I’m not precious about the work, but I am protective over it.

This was just a hobby, an outlet. Was being the operative word. Now I find myself wanting to dedicate my life to creation, and the part that has left me is the part you represent. The drama, the chaos, the peices of the pie. I want to be the chef, I want you to share the pie, but I want to make it.

This isn’t my world anymore. This isn’t my priority. I don’t mean to screw you over, but I don’t want to be a part of that world anymore. There’s more in life that I want. I’ve seen the bigger picture, and I want the upsize, the implants, the maxi.

When all this is over you have your degrees, your careers, your path. I’m left with a chewed up, spat out peice of useless art. It’s not good enough anymore.

Get over yourself, get over the microcosm.

I don’t want to be a brat. I don’t want to have a “It’s mine and you can’t have it” attitude, but at this stage I don’t want to share in the way you’re asking me to. Collaboration is different, you want me to hand something that is my baby over to the wolves? I see how you treat other babies. The respect to you show their mothers and fathers. I see how you ‘adopt’ them and raise them as your own. The analogy is a weak one, but in this fragile transition in which I find myself I can’t even write because I’m scared. I’m scared it will be taken. Intellectual property is all I have right now.

Under the security of my 9-5, with the days turning to nights, repeating schedule. Endless routine I hold off from that which drives me. Knowing the creativity is bubbling under the surface is comforting, but it’s not satisfying.

I don’t know if I want out. This project is a driving force. But I don’t know if I can do it ‘your way’.

I don’t know.

I think you’re a childish idiot who judges people to make yourself feel better!

I pretned to be nice to you, butI figure that’s what you do to everyone anyway. Do you even have any real friends?

Seriously? I thought we were close once. But someone your friends with doesn’t judge you on where you live they look at the person you are!

If I never told you where I lived you would never have known. I don’t act any different to you except for the fact that I apparently have more class.

Get of your suburb high horse, it’s not helping you!

I know you had a rough time in High school, but seriously shouldn’t that mean you’re more perceptive to people being treated how you were? What’s the point in creating your little cliques? What’s the point in demeaning people the way you do.

You have so many issues that you create some extravagant person to hide behind.

I give up caring about how you’re feeling because clearly you don’t care how you make others feel.

I will continue to pretend, there’s no sense in changing how I act. I tend to think I’m above that suburb bullshit, because in the end it’s where you’re going, not where you come from.

You make me angry, and I just want to let it go.

Although I warn you, next time you say something I’m gonna say something back. Who are you to judge me? I have so much aminition against you, but I wouldn’t even start with the petty things you do. It’s not worth arguing with someone who was socially inept for so long and is trying to rekindle their teenage years in all the wrong ways.

You used to be one of my best friends. I don’t like the person you are  pretending to be, because it’s at the expense of the person I knew.

I had a weird dream.

I can’t get anyone out of my head long enough because I don’t always want to let go and realise that I’m alone.

Last night I purposefully put them all in my head.

I am and will always be a masochist. My own demise will be in my hands.

I love to love. I want to want and I need to need.

In saying that I enjoy being free and alone.

None of it makes sense in the end. It’s all too complex.