Monday, February 8, 2010

I'm scared.

Scared. Scared? I don't know. I've been completely out of it all day. Just not really thinking and then losing what I was going to say. I've had a headache all day, but not a bad one--just annoying, frustrating, painful enough to bother me but not enough to be sick. I have a lot of thoughts. They're all scattered. If I were an animal, I imagine I'd be some kind of puppy: yappy, whiny, goofy, naive, needy, dependent. But then sometimes I'm not like that. Sometimes I'm quiet, serious, lethargic, thoughtful. I'm a lot of things and I can't put them together.
But maybe it's all in my head. Maybe I'm not nearly as complicated as I think I am.
Sometimes I think I hate the bus, but really, sometimes it's my favorite part of the day. Even when I have a headache. I love hanging out with Happy and Gem and Aaron and Bruce and Nate (or really just Happy and Gem). I love that they laugh--I love making people laugh--at my weirdness, cuz I know they're not laughing at me, they're laughing with me. I try to act crazy. I try to make them laugh. And it works. I kinda feel accepted, even when the others tease me. And it's fun. It's a lot of fun.
I feel accepted on here, too. Like someone actually cares enough to listen to me. Like how I don't in school, around people besides my friends. Sometimes I don't even feel accepted by my friends. And sometimes I know I deserve it and sometimes I wish it didn't matter. I like the idea of being cold, emotionless; untouchable. I'm an incredibly dependent creature sometimes, and honestly, I feel weak.
But sometimes my contempt at humanity is so great I wish I wasn't human at all.
I feel lost; I have a lot of ways of thinking that don't coincide with each other. I could think of things in a scientific way, an artistic way, a philosophical way, an objective way, an emotional way, a simple way or an universal way. But not together. Do you understand? I believe in God and I believe in evolution. Instead of trying to combine them, I just don't think about them together. Is it the easy way out or just how I think? I don't know. Again, maybe I'm overcomplicating myself so I can convince myself I'm more "deep", more advanced, then everyone else--a mistake I've made before. I know I'm not unique; I know everyone else feels the same way and they just aren't as vocal about it. But I only know my own thoughts and that limits me to thinking I'm not just like everyone else, and then I have to remind myself I am.
I think. I breathe. I exist--as far as I know--but does that mean I live? I'm sorry for being so scattered--I'm trying to write down my thoughts as I have them--but really, am I living? Right now, sitting in this chair, pouring my brain out to a bunch of strangers, am I living? Some would say yes...I would say maybe. I don't know. I don't know a lot of things. I don't know how the universe was created or why I'm here--if there even is a reason. I don't know what constitutes "living". I know being unhappy does not mean you're not alive--and I am unhappy--and I know thinking doesn't mean you're alive--and I am thinking, quite a bit--and I know that, in the end, when everything is turned to dust, even if I make a huge impact in the world it won't make the slightest bit of difference outside our own existence. Humans are conceited....selfish....greedy...We believe, as a whole, that because of our intelligence we can pave over forests and kill animals and live a life of indulgence, of sin, without even knowing it, and I desperately wish there was a way to advance without destroying ourselves and destroying the planet around us. If humans were dumb but strong, no one would complain, but because we're intelligent and weak, we always want more. It seems like a paradox--the ability to choose, and the idea that we would be better off if we didn't advance--and frankly, sometimes I have to force myself not to think about it because I can't find an answer. As intelligent beings, we can't consent to go backwards--we can't give up cars because they hurt the environment--because to do so would be ridiculous, but at the same time we can't go forwards anymore because it'll never be enough, and it will only hurt, in the end. With all the technology and intelligence in the world, we can't get rid of pain.
Oh, God. Now I'm going to talk about love.
Pain made me think about love, you see. And I know I'm thirteen and not exactly an expert on the subject, but I have some ideas. Some would say "love" is only an excuse to carry on the species--a tribal instinct for self-preservation. And some would say it's too broad and complicated for humans to understand, let alone explain. Never having been in love, it's hard for me to explain anyway--I've really only felt obsession and breif, fiery bits of passion. But obsession, as we all know, is just an unhealthy excuse to let something entirely occupy your mind, and all my passion has only stemmed from ignorance. And is so much different from both of them.
Do you find me a hypocrite for saying that, or else just silly, desperate to sound philosophical? I guess all my counts of love have been in literature or from hearing someone talk about it--reciting sonnets or watching my parents talk about each other--because, though I'm sure I've felt love (parents, friends, pets, places, objects), I can't be sure. Can anyone ever be sure? With parents, it's unconditional...and I'm sure I love my friends, because I am fairly dependent on them and such, and I love having them around, though I can never be sure with friends. I know I love Marco and Muddy...I know I love the beach, I know I love the way the sky looks at any time of the day, I know I love trees and shade and shadows, I know I love that feeling that you're surrounded by a beauty only you can see. But...but romantic love, I've never felt. Does it border on obsession, or is it just commitment and some deep connection? If it is...then how can anyone ever fall out of love?
Oh, God. My fingers can't type fast enough. I feel slow. And during all of this, all of these thoughts, my expression has not changed once. I'm just staring, almost cold, kind of lethargic. I want to be special. I want to be intelligent. I want someone to love me--and, as proof that I'm human, even though I know people do love me it doesn't feel like enough. I still feel unloved and alone. I'm still unhappy. Why am I so unhappy? Why do I always want to change? Why do I insist I hate people while simultaneously begging for their approval?
I'm eating dinner. I swallowed a mouthful of food and it burned my throat on the way down, but I didn't flinch. I thought about writing it on here and took another bite.
I really must be insane.
If I write a book...if someone falls in love with me...if I go to Princeton and go to Paris and get my dream home and get married and have kids and do all the things I wanted to...will I be happy then?

1 comment:

  1. When I was young I would always go to church every sunday with my parents. We would go out the gate in my backyard leaving a little crack in the gate and than would travel about 8 meters of trees through the woods. Than there was the house where the priests lived. Me and Alex would skip across the priests driveway and step on all the catepillers that would crawl out from the cracks of the pavement. Sometimes there'd be 10 or 20, and they'd all be dead by the time we got across the driveway.
    When you wrote about how humans are dumb or intellegent or whatever, I thought of that.
    I can't help wince everytime it comes to my mind.
    I know this serves no relevince at all, but I felt like sharing my shame with someone.