Tags: Day Anyone
I love when you ask me probing questions; it catches me off-guard. When we're sitting alone staring out the window, watching the breeze sift through the trees in the the slanting afternoon light; this October has snapped suddenly to be so cold but it's been such a long time since I've felt such a heat on my face before.
Some day soon I hope to lose my hesitance to confess my true feelings. There's nothing so toxic as holding them all so tightly, closely to my chest that I never let anyone see; it's dangerous for me to keep such tender feelings hidden like this; no, I'm not a good upholder of even my own philosophy when it comes to things like this.
Being around college boys, those pack of Patagonia-laden self-aggrandizers who are three-quarters loud and one-quarter tolerable; even among them have I found the extra few guys left over from some divine rounding error who have escaped this whole generalization; the few who are quiet and considerate are those people I most admire more than any distant role-model or literary figure. These few are the exception to the whole; that is the definition of mediocrity anyhow. If it were any other way I would have reason to be concerned.
We're so wrapped up in our own character; trying every moment to act in some manner which perpetuates the character people expect us to be; we do not want to disappoint anyone around us, for the sake of our pride and for the sake of fitting in. I've long since realized the irrelevance of being looked at as a "consistent" person; because we can change moment-to-moment, one day this, the next day that, given only to the strong wind of our own emotion, people who regard consistency as an important trait are only not aware of their true nature: the unreliable narrator.
It's my birthday; I got a package in the mail the other day addressed to "Pretty Boy". A great deal of thought ran through my head on the way back inside after fetching the mail. I'd had such a shitty day; I hadn't had any free time since last Thursday and I was working through the whole weekend but somehow this little package was enough to make me grin at the sky and remember that no matter how bad things get or how much I'm kicked in the side there's always friendship; I can't explain how far a little thing goes for anyone who's been scribbling sad thoughts in their diary all day; you can never know when something that you do can make such a big difference.
I've written myself into a smiling, misty-eyed mess of a boy; there's something about when I surrender myself to the dark sea of emotion that gives me some clarity. I'd feel so weird admiting these things to anyone but there's an area we could all work on together.
There's a lot I want to say.