If God(or any form of it) would come to me and say "Here is your life written in volumes. Choose to read what you like and take from it what you can.", I wonder what I would find...
I have no siblings. A disadvantage I can only live with, and one that if not there, may have helped me progress faster in reading between the lines of my life. I have no childhood friends to call upon. I moved so frequently and rarely received consistant contact with another person growing up. For me, life was vast only because I would allow my mind to escape reality so frequently.
However now, 21 years 10 months and 2 days later, I'm determined to get to know who I am, and hopefully fall in love with the person I want to be.
For how can I ask for love from another, for a person I cannot show love for myself.
I can start by analyzing when I began to notice I was falling from the group, in a sense, starting to think I wasn't like everyone else. I have to accept that I can't change anything that has happened, only to hope that the knowledge I might gain will shape a better future.
I guess what I'm trying to say is I don't like myself very much, but not the same way I felt a year ago. A year ago I would tell you I'm uneducated, unattractive, and unambitious.
Well, I teach myself what I can where I can. I read when ever I get the chance. If I don't know something I take a mental note to research and have actually developed more passions from things springing from a lack of understanding them.
I am attractive. Okay, to even type that makes me cringe. But I know how I look, I know the effects it has on others and I know that I've used it in the past to bypass someone really seeing who I am. But the sense of insecurity brings me to a stopping point at times. Points where I want to destroy the image people see to maybe understand what I see inside.
Ambition. According to Webster it is the ardent desire for rank, fame, or power. At around 14 I lost that drive. I wanted to sink behind the curtains, dreaming of being the person on stage, rather than actually doing it. Yet, in April of 2009 something happened. I wanted a voice. I didn't need to be heard yet, but I wanted it to at least exist. I realized where I lived at the time I would never develop one. It got to a point that the pressure in my chest was so great that if I didn't leave as soon as I could, I would die of a broken heart. I may have continued to actually live, but what ever small flicker of life that was left in me would burn out.
I did not think. I just acted. I had the money, I made the connections I needed, and so I fled. I knew no one nor cared. I started over. I became who ever the hell I wanted you to see. This temporarily led me to be a not so great person. Someone who was reckless with a constant fear of falling. And for to me, if I was gonna fall, it better kill me. I put myself in situations in a way of testing how far I could go. Curious to see how destructive I could be. I was a Goddamn idiot.
But I felt alive, scratch that, I actually felt something. Eventually that gave me enough to decide that maybe I can feel something other than pain.
I had spent the previous years of my life half alive. Only doing what needed to be done, trying to find anything to fill a void. I ordered things from around the world and watched as many foreign horror films as I could, even trying to learn the languages, because I never thought I would able to see these places. So instead I immersed myself in anything and everything that I wanted to see and do into the four walls I spent the majority of my life in.
To actually be at a point to ask myself what I want, is an achievement in of it's self. For me it means this is the first time I actually want to listen to myself and that I care about how I'm doing. And for the first time, I'm trying to listen to others. Because I realized I'm really not as different as I think, but never having someone to share these things with made that I was unaware. I find it hard to understand sometimes where others are coming from, because I have so much I have not worked through, how can I be of help in anyway? But really, no one can help me, I share the things I share to be comforted and maybe at times thats all I need to do. Hopefully this will progress and maybe writing what is in my head will at least make it that I can sleep. I just want make someone happy, to make them laugh, to maybe brighten someone else's day even if mine is shit. To put my self aside and care about another human being. I just want to be a better person.
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