Summer's done, and I feel like I've accomplished nothing. Maybe even de-complished, if I can make up that word. And I can, because I've got literary fucking license.So there. Nyeah.
I've got my driving license, though. There's one accomplishment. And Cole Blackwell, Interviewed. That's another one. But there's still so much to be done, writing aside. I'm kind of hoping that I'll be able to fall back into it once school starts again, and I'm juggling schoolwork with the pressing desire to write. But now not only is it schoolwork, it's college applications as well. Grrrrrg.
Then there's the issue of me having not yet decided on a goal for this school year. Like how last year, I think, was supposed to be getting physically stronger (which is pretty much every year) as well as working on my social skills. This year, I just don't know what to work for anymore. Because it's like, okay, I don't really see the point of dating right now. Or pretty much ever.
Actually, I think what I'm getting at is a paradox. I want love, but I can't imagine who would love me. I think I'm (relatively) beautiful (at least, Corinth says so...), but at the same time...you know? I doubt anyone looks at me and finds me attractive like that. Like, I can't reconcile myself with my humanity or something.
Ugh, that was weird.
But the point was, after my little revelation that there really is not point to life on Earth at all, I'm kinda lost. I keep asking myself, "Why?" and I'm not finding an answer, but I think I can live with that. It's when I ask myself, "Why live?" and I come up with the answer, "For someone else," that I get all screwy. Because that goes straight against what I've been telling myself for the past...like, five years. That I don't need anyone else to make living worth while, life is good enough to enjoy on my own without anyone else fucking it up. And then I say to myself, "Well, what was wrong with that?" And my hormones say, "EVERYTHING!" And I laugh. Because I can ignore them. What I can't ignore is that little instinctual tug that every human being feels as an animal with grouping tendencies, that sort of animalistic need for companionship. That's what gets to me. And what pisses me off even more is that even if I wanted to break it down into a series of chemical reactions and biological processes (which I do probably more often than is psychologically healthy), I still want it. Because even though I really don't want to be dating in high school (too much drama, and all anybody ever wants is sex--not that it's a bad thing, just...sex really isn't that big of a deal to me), it's very hard to ignore the little twinge I get every time I see two of my close friends who happen to be dating throwing around cute nicknames and stuff.
And now it's raining. I like the sound, though.
I feel like a teenager. God, it sucks. I think I need to learn to be more social. I don't know. Then there's the whole identity crisis thing...meh.
I think...I don't know. I'm saying that a lot lately. Should I open up more to people and be more honest about what I'm really feeling? Or should I stay safely inside my own head, where I can trust myself to take care of me?
Confuffledly yours,
K. Black (my new penname :])
