Pre-spring nervousness

I have become an excellent spammer. I never knew I was so brilliant at it. You get so much freaking attention, and I’ve always dreaded attention.

There’s another reason why I bothered keeping the bloody student online journal alive, but I won’t tell. It doesn’t matter anyway. Distraction is always good.

I’ve always hated dealing with people, hundreds of different minds at once. It takes time to build bridges to connect with each other. Do I really look like I have the patience… It’s just this one time that I don’t want to fear the complexities of mass communication. But I do, like a chicken, I’m just ignoring it.
What a good start!

For a second, I have a genuine smile on my face, and when the cheekbones grow tired, it fades. You’ve seen that. Do you ever pay attention to how long you actually smile? For instance, if someone has made you smile, do you count the seconds? I mean, up until the smile fades completely.

And then you ask yourself: Will this person make me smile again?

I’m waiting. I’m waiting. I’m working. I’m moving. I’m ripping my arse off. I’m waiting. The more I think about it, the more I seem to realise that they are all sycophants. It’s nothing new; everyone is like that in one way or another. The harsh ones are those who forget to say thank you.

Sincerely, I can’t wait for the day where I show you my bent fuck-finger. I hope no one will ever notice because I mean what I say with my fuck-finger.

Spring is close; it scares me. Summer is always so long. The high number of people outside makes me anxious. If you have watched Soylent Green, you’ll know what I mean – overpopulation. They’ll be everywhere, drinking, talking about nothing but the sun, getting a tan and fuck each other outdoors.

How to put this without everyone calling me a little misanthropic cynic that sees the worst in everything? If I have a ___ from ___ onwards, then I don’t see things this way.

I’ve reached a point where I’m close to giving someone else a chance even though I’d never love them.

I’m waiting. I’m waiting. I’m walking. I don’t want to be left behind.

I want to collapse on the lawn with everyone, eat ice cream and sing songs at the campfire, although I couldn’t care less.

I’ve spent too many years chasing after things that are beyond reach. And they are still what I want and always will be what I want, and that’s because I never abandon all hope, even when the ground I walk on turns from stable to soft. It’s always fear that moves you forward, the fear of being left behind and useless. I don’t mean useless to the world, but useless to yourself.

I envy those who are too blind to realise that each of us stands alone. I don’t care how many best friends or how many agony aunts you have out there; you are standing on the top of the world alone.

When you are asleep, you have no one with you in your head. You have a certain feeling, and you have no one that feels the same. So stop saying, “I know how you feel.” Feelings are way too unfathomable, intangible. And once gone, it’s irretrievable. There are no right words for description.

We can still pretend we understand each other to a certain degree. How would we fall in love otherwise?

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