Well, you can’t say I’ve been awfully bad- nor good- this year. Crazy things happen and you don’t really know how to control stuff ALL the time. That would be crazier.
Yes, friends, I feel like I’ve gotten all boring on the Internets. It’s like, two years ago, I’ve been this and that and I’ve sort of done what I loved doing and probably what I do best. Which is to rant online. But now… now… all I am is a mere, lowly, lonely… creature?
Okay… the thing is: I’m trying to see a clear picture of myself. It’s sort of hazy once I try to visualize. Between beers and boyfriends and unending songs of sorrow, I can’t grasp anymore who I am compared to who I was. I was once this girl with a little dream and a little passion for writing and computers. I once played under the rain and climbed trees. I was once that girl who found contentment in art and creativity.
I still find contentment in art and creativity. I still love the sunset in all its glory and beauty. But, as I grow, I realize I’m now trying to find things I don’t have to look for. Unnecessary bouts of pleasure, leisure and temptation. Probably to the point of hedonism. It’s not good. And I’m not proud of it.
I had these crazy neighbors and relatives who kept on calling my family a “broken family.” They sort of look at us in a different way and wiggle their unshapely noses at our lack of taste or sensibility. I was a kid then and I felt like all these people ever wanted was to make me feel low so I would cry when they talk about my father not supporting us or my mother not exactly fulfilling typical motherly duties. And I did cry sometimes and maybe that satisfied their cruel hearts.
Well I hope it satisfies them to find me thinking like a rebel. To look at me and say, “well you can’t blame her for going home late drunk because she’s from a broken family.” I hope it satisfies them that I’ve learned to live with the depression enough to be numb about it.
Really, I can’t understand myself because I am so many persons in one.
I don’t hate the world and I don’t blame them.
My back hurts from having to carry so much. But that’s okay. According to this song from Side A, “I’m used to bein’ lonely anyway.”
Okay! Why did I suddenly get so sentimental? Isn’t it supposed to be freakin’ Christmas this time of the year? It may enlighten you to know I’m used to writing spontaneously so that I don’t really know a fig about the structure or organization of what I’m going to write… I just write. But well anyway, that’s my secret. You know, because real writers are mysterious. Hahah. Like Paris Hilton. What happened to her anyway?
Friends, merry christmas and a happy new year!
Though I’ll never be able to offer you a sensibly organized blog, at least you would rest assured there’s someone who has more issues than you do.
And though we can’t be happy all the time, at least we can eat whatever we want on Christmas and drink whatever we see on New Year.