i like to complain
2004-10-24 || 1:52 p.m.

I have things in my head that I want to write about but I don't know where to get the words from. I feel remote, removed, useless. I feel like by being alive we have some sort of creation inside ourselves but I feel no sense of it really in me. I don't know if that makes sense. When I look at humans and their range of emotions and actions I think its a wonderful thing but it means nothing to me, personally. I don't understand anything, from the smallest to the biggest things.

When I think about social interaction, laughing with other people, doing things, sitting talking, drinking, eating, all the normal stuff that people do anywhere in the world whatever society they are in, it means nothing to me. The worthless have no social skills.

People think my remoteness is arrogance or disdain or disinterest but really its a ridiculously heightened sense of worthlessness.

And the funnest thing of all is that just by saying that, it turns into arrogance. The very thing I say its not!

And then I wondered whether there were spiritual mysteries. Whether there are truths in all belief systems, whether we have individual souls, whether just like individual people all together in one place become a workforce or a school or a crowd or any other large collective noun and then if we have souls do they become a large global soul that exists apart from and as part of everything else?

If you are born and you experience and you live and take risks, then when you die, do you return? Do you not return if you hide? If you take no risks? If you deny what you feel to yourself and clothe it in other things?

And I'm not trying to be clever in any way because truly I'm actually rather dumb. I always think that my thoughts are not worthy of even being consigned to my own diary dustbin.

But I know that I spend my life acting tragic and I don't even know why. If I think I may be going to be happy then I make sure I ruin it by doing or saying something awful. Or by doing nothing at all. That one works the best of all, I've found. Ever since Heidi's stepmother its been the same.

Tragedy. Fucking stupid meaningless unreal tragedies in my stupid messed up head. Making sure that whatever it is I may be, that during my life I am remote and pathetic and in death I will cease to exist altogether.