These type of things used to embarrass me. I went back a while ago and deleted some of my old writings on these old pictures. I wish I hadn’t. I always let people control me. I thought "what if they see?" "what if they read these words?" "what if they see these pictures and make fun of me?". I cared so deeply for people who did not care for me. Who stomp my feelings as soon as they can. The weakest people are those who cannot be challenged in their wrongs, who cannot meet their own feelings. When you say their words hurt they just laugh or make a witty comment because, well, it has always worked. Being void of all feeling has gotten them by. It’s a numb life. It’s a bad life.
This fear is why I stopped taking pictures and stopping playing guitar. Two things that mean the most to me. It was a slow, steady decline. It wasn’t overnight. Slowly as I got a bit older I thought these things were silly. These new people had different hobbies, they didn’t understand mine. I didn’t make time for these things. Basically, I’m an idiot. I put two important things on the back burner for the cheap, short lived thrill of spontaneous friendship. Then I kept growing, my friends kept growing, and I realized these people had stopped. They were stuck as if they were still 18 – stupid, looking at the world like there was nothing but staying up all night, sleep all day, being an asshole to everyone you meet. I had progressed miles ahead of them and yet they stuck behind somewhere far away. The gap keeps getting bigger and it keeps getting harder to deal with.
I have always been a chronic worrier. I worry what other people think. My mind will not shut the fuck up. It’s always running and I cannot seem to stop it. I focus so much on other people that I forget about myself and my own needs. I get stuck in their cycle of sleep in late, stay in front of the computer all day, never experience life, never get out of the fucking house. I am not content in that life but I made myself that way because it’s easier. Easier is not the best. Let me out, let me out, let me out. I am not meant for that lifestyle. I cannot handle it.
I always made empty promises to myself that I will focus more on my needs. One must conquer their own demons first. I have a lot of them and they are gathering dust. It kind of feels nice the further they get away. It stings less. It will always be there, though. I think it’s time to stop making empty promises. I could make those promises when I was 16 and knew nothing about life, when I was 18 and was just discovering everything, when I was 21 and though I knew what being an adult was. At 23, although not old, much different. Things are different. I feel different, life is different. My goals are different.
It’s time for a reboot. A clean install. It’s time to shed the bad. It might hurt badly but it hurts worse to keep patching something that won’t work. Friendships that aren’t meant to be, habits that are hard to break, feelings that won’t seem to shut up. Things have to change before I get caught in that cycle that I see so many fall into.
Let me out.