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Doubts -- 2002-12-08
This weekend sucked. Sunday a few of the people from class wanted to get together for a study group. It was an improptu study group. I kinda wanted to go, but I had to stay home. HAD. I would have liked to have gone because brunette girl from my class was going to be there. I know I already said that she has a boyfriend, but whose to say if I don't stick around and she break-ups with this guy, that I can't ask her out then? I don't know, it's possible. Yeah right.

Anyway, I found something to do here at home... watch football. I'll make up some excuse Monday morning when she asks where I was. In a way I didn't want to go.

I have brunette girl's voice on my answering machine. It's silly to even have it on there and not delete it right away. I just feel... I don't know, alone.

Everything seems to be pissing me off these days. I said it before, I'm turning bitter. The world sucks. It really does.

Now I have two chances to ask the blonde girl out. I wonder if I'll choak. Probably. Or, she'll have a dozen boyfriends already. That's the more likely scenario. That's always the scenario. Fuck.

On another subject, I hate my writing. I completely, and utterly hate everything I write. I even hate the way this journal sound when I read it back to myself. I feel that I sound like a total idiot. Tell me, do I sound like a total idiot on this journal?

I know I do... I sound like an idiot here.

I'm doubting a lot of things right now. Too many to go into while I'm supposed to be asleep for an early start tomorrow. However, the thing I doubt most of all is the future. For the first time in a long time I feel that I'm standing still. Standing still really means falling back. I'm falling back.

I doubt I won't die alone. I doubt I'll ever write something I'll like. I doubt I won't fall on my face. I doubt that I won't break my hand in anger.

I nearly broke my hand yesterday, and I can't even remember why. All I know is that yesterday I was mad enough, and hot enough, that I wanted to punch something. My mind thought of punching a window out, if only to get cut, and bleed. My hand felt like it was bleeding right after thinking that, even though it wasn't. I was ready to burst.

I think I wanted my hand to break on something hard in order to feel something, anything, other than anger. I was angry at that moment. Not as angry as I can get, but it was up there.

I now know a little bit of how those people can cut themselves. I understand why they do it. I almost did it, even though I always thought it was something very strange. The fact that I considered it scared me.

I calmed myself down, but really all I did was bottle that anger. I'm a passionate guy, but right now I'm a little too angry. I'm a person of extremes. I feel great joy, and by that great anger... however, I rarely show it. I keep it all inside me. So much so that people can't tell whether I'm happy or sad, nearly all of the time. They can't see my disapointment. They can't see my joy. They can't see my anything.

Walls around me that I have built.

When they fall, I mend them fast.

I don't want anyone inside.

Only that one who I can't find.

If I let someone inside,

They might know those things I hide.

So, I stay behind the walls,

Always wondering why I'm alone.

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