There is only one person who will know what I’m talking about and it sure isn’t me. (Another high school journal)

My mind is yesterday, today and tomorrow happening all at once. As soon as i know where I am, I’m already heading in a different direction and it becomes where I’ve been. I have no idea whats going on these days, these long terrifying sleepless days. No one every really listens. If you say something positive the comment about how they can relate and make it about them instead of just being happy for you. And when you say something negative or have a problem they give advise or say something encouraging. You can never just tell someone something. Its like we are trapped in scenes, retelling the same old story over and over again. why are we afraid of silence? it would be nice to not be forced to response. I’m not here to say whatever you want me to say. People don’t know how to love unconditionally or selflessly. There is this constant pressure to be the best friend, artist, student, child, lover, teacher and to have certain desires. There is a lot how guilt associated with the fact that people expect something from you and you don’t know what is or it conflicts with your own ideals. I don’t understand how to balance the desire to be ourselves and the desire to be someone else to be accepted.Our attempt to problem solving is our biggest problem. We like to find easy solutions quickly. We like to avoid pain and conflict but without suffering there is no growth and no real solutions. We like not growing because change is something different. We fear things that we don’t understand. We like to think that we know every thing , it makes feel secure. we don’t really know anything and the truth doesn’t seem to matter at all. All that matters is what people believe to be true. And I’m not sure is I want to know the truth any ways. I’m already desperately searching for some identity and I don’t like keeping my perceptions to myself but don’t want others to strip from me. All I see in the mirror are multiple distorted reflections of characters romanticized in my mind. Who I am, who have been and who i will be are all blurred into one. I don’t think anymore instead I’m becoming my thoughts. I am sailing on the Mayflower to go see Jesus crucified in the circus and all I want to do is kill Columbus and turn the boat around so I can go home.


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