| Sunday, October 19, 2003 - | ||||||||||
| I am staring into the most beautiful blue eyes that I have ever seen. They are the key and the door to all the truths that hide behind. They have depths deeper than the seas, and I can see further in them than I can see on the clearest day. Their blue is the blue where the ocean and the sky meet. These eyes are the place where I can try to meet her heart and where she lets her soul come out and play.
Please show me your eyes, let me look deep into them, just let yourself go. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How is it that I can be both happy and sad at the same time? I am incredibly happy that I am where I am. But at the same time I still feel like there is something that could make me complete. I feel as if I am missing something. I have this perpetual feeling that I need something, to complete me. It seems so easy for other people to be happy, and to not have any problems. Are they just as good as me at hiding what they feel to the rest of the world? Does everyone have the same feelings inside as me? What is it that makes me feel this way? I can be so happy all day, and then all of a sudden things change, something snaps inside of me, and I spend the rest of my day wanting to write and be alone, but longing for someone. I want someone to love me, and it seems to fall into other people�s laps, but for me it is a battle, it is a fight, things take forever, things aren�t �at first sight� for me. People don�t approach me at parties; people don�t come up to me, wanting to meet me. Is it the way I look, the way I stand, dress�??? What do I do that makes it so that people seem as if they have to get to know me before they like me? It looks that way to me. I guess the only way to really know would be to get inside their heads, (plot some evil plan to create a mind reading device). People like me, I am likeable, and I try very hard to not be what I see as a possibility for me. I try my best to become the person that people want around, and yet I have no one that wants to be close to me. I have many friends, but no close friends. What I have are a ton of acquaintances. I know the things that I would do for the people that I call my friends, but I never know what they would be willing to do for me. Is it a conscious decision to be the way that I am, was it something that I decided when I was younger, when it was time to make those decisions. When is it time to make those decisions? What can I do to go back and make it so that little things don�t bother me, so that minor things don�t get to me? What is it that makes me forgettable? That makes me ok to be around, but not always the guy to invite? Why is it that there are people that others complain about, and yet they are the ones that get invited, that have the close relationships. Do they talk about me behind my back? Is it ever possible to know? Is it possible to get inside people�s heads; is it possible to know what is really going on inside of my own head? Will I ever find peace from the things that are going on inside of my head? Are these truly feelings, are they real, or do I make them up? Is it something that I should learn to ignore, can I learn to ignore it? Is there someone out there that can show me? Is there someone out there for me? Is it possible that the one person that I am supposed to meet that makes the rest of my life make sense, is that person still out there? Will my life make sense? What if I never meet anyone? What do I do then? What do I do with the life that I have? How do/should I react to things around me? There are no answers right now, only questions. Einstein said something along the lines of: "Genius is not knowing the answers. Genius is knowing where to get the answers.� And right now I don�t know where my answers lay. Some would say they lay with God, and others say not. Some say that meditation is the way, and others don�t have the attention span. Everyone has an answer except for me; everyone has advice, and directions for a path to go down, except for me. I don�t know the road which I travel, or if it is even a road. I am on this earth, stuck in the wash of life, not knowing where I belong, or what to do with myself. |
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