My current (buns)
Where did my life go?
Where is it going?
I’ve hit a bump in the road but it hasn’t rocked me
I’m just stuck
Inspiration has done a runner on all fronts
People I encounter aren’t admirable or awesome
Places are missing the life, the zing, the adventure they had
I don’t know where I’m heading so there’s no route to follow
Just day after isolated day
Earning money for things I don’t really want
Enough to be comfortable
So the boredom can perpetuate itself
Summer has passed us by in 2007
Forgotten
Beaching it up & warm, bronzed, sweet-smelling skin a missed memory
Why no sun?
I’m still chasing the past
Believing it’s hidden within his shell
But in moments of clarity I see that the feeling has evolved
To be reinvented as something new.
A concern for the 20 something (for some reason)
Why do i feel so empty and missing something,
When i’ve got so much, much to be grateful for?
Still it’s not enough.
Is it ever enough?
Is this it?
As good as it gets?
Is it worth the constant shuffle - in search of
What?
Possession? Love? Belonging?
I look at other people and envy what they’ve got
Wonder why i haven’t
How i’m different, what i do wrong.
They’ve got a relationship i’ve never achieved.
Is it because i don’t want it,
Don’t require it
Don’t need it
Have enough already?
But i want it.
I feel worthless compared to my friends who have it.
Directionless
And pointless.
In theory.
Not all the time. There are other things to measure worth.
I’m good, helpful, passionate, concerned, but that one special person doesn’t see it.
I don’t know who that person is,
Maybe they’re already here and i won’t notice
Until i see the grass isn’t greener.
I wish i could be content with what i’ve got.
I’m happy but i’m always searching for more.
But that might be what keeps me alive.
It’s disheartening and makes me bitterer by the day.
It concerns me more at the beginning of a morning,
Probably because i have a chance to make a change.
Friends have advice, reasoning, explainations,
There isn’t one answer but many,
I don’t know what my answer is.
I take my decisions from the advice of others,
Too much perhaps.
I’m a sponge.
But not a weak push-over sponge.
By the end of the day i no longer care,
I relax, it’s been a write off day, but a good one,
I’ve had fun, i’ve grown tired and dreams welcome me back to bed.
Obligations here, jobs to do there, “drive me home please”,
All day all day every day,
i suppose that’s life
I’m needing something that’s mine though,
To bring pleasure and purpose.
A building, a person, a place,
I’m not sure.
A sign or a path to show me which way,
But no such luck.
So it seems it’s all down to me.
Damn.
How come life appears to happen to others and i have to make life work for me?
People will tell me that’s not true.
But then that means i’m wrong, not right,
Me
A bad egg,
Worse
An unattractive egg,
For pounding purposes only.
Don’t think i think little of myself.
I’ve been told that by older, wiser people all my life
And it makes it worse, perpetuates the feeling,
It’s bollocks.
I like me,
It’s other people that aren’t that amazed.
It could be argued that i shouldn’t need all this acceptance,
Desire from other people,
Blame my programming.
I need to…
…do something worthwhile, even if it’s boring, like my timesheets for work, because it’s no good sitting on the internet waiting for someone to chat to you, or looking for something interesting because the internet is NOT A SUBSTITUTE FOR REAL LIFE. And neither is weed, but i’ll tackle that one another day…
Where did all the good times go?
things seem quiet at the moment. The internet’s quiet, friends are quiet, life’s quiet, well not quiet quiet, i mean i’ve been on holiday and have seen family and friends but i still feel lonely. I’m not desperately lonely - not much to complain about. Lots of beings seemed to die last week, my hamster being one of them. It’s strange not to hear him nibbling at the end of my bed in the secret hours of the morning. Work seems to define my waking hours at the moment. I work, then i spend time doing what i like and choose to do, then i eat, then i sleep, then i work again. I don’t know who or where some of my friends are at the moment. And i don’t where i’m heading next. There are no plans or needs to move home anytime soon for me. And i feel i’d better stick at this job for at least a year, even though i’d like to train to be a teacher. I haven’t seen anyone at all today. I woke up late and everyone was out, i don’t know where and i haven’t bothered to find out. I’m stagnant. Or something is. There’s a lack of love in Brighton at the moment. I’m rotting here, but it’s not right there. I’m not having a pop at anyone, just expressing my unease. I don’t know where to go to feel easy, happy and to get some sex.
Let me take you down…
Why am i the way that i am? Why do i feel like i’d rather be dead than alive? It sounds so selfish because i have a home, a loving family, food, water. I don’t witness or feel suffering hardly ever. If i don’t appreciate what i have then surely i’m not worthy. Give my privileged life to someone else. I hate living just for myself. Day in day out i have only myself to think about and i hate it. Too much time to myself. But i also hate work.
I had a break (and a cry) and now i remember that it’s PMS and not something unusual or concretely an issue. Every month i have this, sometimes twice or more, and it is shit. I seriously consider suicide everytime but know i couldn’t do it for my family’s sake. Also because i know deep down it is only a fleeting emotion – a couple of days, which makes it feel even more pointless. I feel bitter, jealous, guilty and sorry for myself and want to tell people exactly what i think of them. I like to smack myself just to get it out somehow, but it’s like a balloon full of air when someone’s squeezing the neck so it only comes out in squeaky squeals – not nearly enough to deflate and relax it.
I’m calmer now. It’ll still be an effort to be friendly towards my family at Sunday lunch but hopefully they’ll understand on some level. I’ll have a rollie on the drive over to calm my spirits. Ok, rant over. It’s even worse that it’s PMT. Not many people take it seriously (especially men, and even myself most of the time). FUCK EVERYTHING.
Dreaming – Satisfy my soul.
I hate waking up.
My own unconscious likes to taunt and tease me by providing me with exciting films during my sleeping hours that figuratively make my dreams come true. Tho the coming true bit never actually happens.
Therefore when i wake up i’m greeted by an anti-climax and feelings of disappointment and loss – not the best way to start a day. I then remember that i’m 22, still live with my parents, see no changes coming to that in the near future and my face droops as does my heart, my mind, my soul.
It’s not that bad, i know, I’m not complaining as such. I just long for a little (or perhaps a great deal) of excitement. My adult like isn’t as i’d envisaged it. Or maybe it is but i’m too used to it now to realise. I know i’ve achieved some of the things i wanted to but your perception of situation changes when you’re actually in it.
I think what it basically boils down to is sex. Not all of us get enough and that includes me! Every night pretty much i dream about it. I want to try so many things before i’m old and decrepit. You can’t give it away these days! There are many barriers, emotions and struggles of power to get over first. Drunkeness is the easiest lubricant.
I’m so bored! There are riveting moments in my life but they’re too sporadic to make me content it seems. I don’t think i’d be so involved with certain TV shows if my life was full.
But i’m speaking from the now - 10.30 am on a cold January Tuesday morn. During busy periods of work, sleep and play life is full and then there is no time to reflect. I might get so bored soon i’ll burst into a fire of passion and idleness.
Does anyone else feel as though their life is massively unexciting, either compared to their peers, their dreams or their expectations?
It’s down to me at the end of the day, i know. I like to indulge in some self-pity. Maybe I believe the Gods will smile down on me and grant my wishes if i complain enough. Tut, it’s no good! Friends and family are always telling me “Join some groups. Go and meet some people” but organised groups, bah, there’s something so contrived about that. I guess i’m too much of a romantic soul and secretly reckon I’ll meet people i like and trees of fun on my random walks through the fields.
If only i could just spew on the page and let the words arrange themselves into exactly what I mean.. .
