I’m starting this as a blank canvas. I have no intention in mind… I just feel… blank. Yet at the same time feel there is something I need to say. You know?
What am I trying to achieve? I do everything ‘for myself’. I write this blog. I make silly YouTube videos, I try and bring humor to the depressing world of Facebook (sometimes), and I do these things because I enjoy them. But why do we always feel like we need to be recognized? Why does it hurt my feelings if I’m not recognized? Am I supposed to believe what everyone says; that’s the world we live in today with social media. Or is just a human nature thing? Do we just want to be accepted as people?
I don’t know.
Ever listen to Happy Little Pill by Troye Sivan? (He’s a Youtuber I absolutely adore who is releasing his first album in a few weeks.) Maybe this song just has me in a trance.
Or maybe it’s the break up. I’ve been a little bitter today thinking about how I have nothing in this city. Yet he is out partying almost every night and the constant female friends popping up on his friends list. That’s what he meant by find himself?
What does finding myself mean? Because I don’t want it to mean the same thing. It’s been hard realizing that I believe there is no going back from this. Everyone says don’t say never, but I feel from this point on, I am for myself. I took a chance on whatever love is, and it left me where everyone always leaves me. Alone.
And that’s just how it is. I watched a horror movie today. (Which if you knew me in real life, you would know I absolutely never watch them.) But I found myself locked in this Japanese movie about a girl who writes curses that kill people when they read them. I stopped near the end thinking that it would probably end with me having to read a curse, and I simply didn’t want to risk it, but here I am, feeling bad for her. She had a terminal illness, her family ignored her, she was different. She was just alone and not sure why.
I know it’s not right to sympathize with people who do awful things, but I thought, behind every horror story there is some kind of sad story. We as humans are so incredibly weak. We don’t really serve any kind of purpose, and I think no matter what, we are lonely.
Being lonely is probably a dangerous thing.
I don’t know why I’m writing. I don’t know why I’m doing a lot of the things I’m doing.