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i think i'll throw myself myself away. they're just photos after all.
02.10.2005 | 4:58 pm i think i have an unhealthy obsession with robert downey, jr. & kieran culkin. if i had to construct the perfect man i would probably chop them up & mold them into it, mixed with a little bit of steve zahn. what a weird man that would be. mr. culkin's gorgeous hair & mr. downey's flirty smile & body, not to mention the incessant drug abuse & alcoholism. & of course, mr. zahn's adorable, annoying, yet undeniably cute personality. & blue eyes. because in the miranda rule book it states that you have to have blues eyes or you're undateable. & apparently, your name has to begin with a 'j' & you have to play some sort of musical instrument, preferably guitar. some standards, huh? aw well. it's all coincidental, i assure you. i'm not that picky. or am i? i've been thinking about the significance of everything lately. late nights are starting to fuck with my mind, what will all the sober thoughts & all. plus, i don't have much company these days. jesse seems to always be sleepy, so i occupy myself with music & cigarettes, as much as humanly possible. mum bombarded me with all these silly 'stop teenagers from smoking' pamphlets & they irk me. ironically, they're paid for by philip morris. GAY. i read it & filled out a nifty, little survey asking me silly questions & asking me to decipher between right & wrong. most of the things were things that i had done before & a few were stupid, like 'is it right for teenagers to shave their head?' as for the significance of things, i'm wasting my life. every fucking second. but what do i really have to live for, since i'm inevitably going to die anyway? i don't really see a point in being here. i guess if i were a christian i could say it was to serve god & live my life as an example for him, but that seems kind of stupid for a practical mind. most things concerning religion do seem pretty impractical for a logical person. not saying that i'm smarter than the average christian, just that i tend to question things & seek a more viable answer than 'i came from the flesh of the earth & some man's rib.' typically, most christians scoff at greek mythology & such, but i guess they don't realize that their religion is, in comparison, just as mythical. i don't doubt the bible, because their are a few facts to back it up, but some things mentioned i am a bit skeptical about. hm. it's easier for me to believe that aliens watch over us like tiny mechanical ants. that about sums up most of what i believe. & believe it or not, their is actually a lot of science & sense that backs up my theory. i've pondered my relationship with jesse, too. hm. this was tricky. see, in my thought pattern of significance & such, i wondered what purpose he served & why i was "wasting" my time waiting on him ... when i could be out & about enjoying the company of other fellows & digging myself an earlier grave. of course, i could do that if i wanted to, but i don't. because i think i've found something really special in him. something that i've never had before. something not even justin gave me. i have love & the pure essence of everything beautiful. even though he's not here, it's almost as if i can feel him in the air sometimes ... like he's with me. i love him very dearly & he's the most important person in my life. & i asked myself again, 'why do you stay with him & avoid other boys like the plague? why don't you go out & have fun? get drunk? get high? get laid?!' because. i don't need to & when it comes down to it, i don't really want to. if it takes sitting at home, watching TV, smoking cigarettes, talking on the phone, waiting patiently for him to come & keep our relationship together ... then so be it. i'm perfectly happy. i really am, for the most part. sure, i miss people, sometimes. but i still have my good friends close. i figure if i start wandering off again i'll end up high & strung out & miserable again. because i only know how miserable i was. i'm not afraid of death, you know? i just really don't know what to make of it. it seems like a comfort, sort of. i think all heaven is are your brain waves sporadically piecing together beautiful images in your mind until they can no longer function. like a trip. but that's just my opinion. & yeah, that is what my mind has been up to late at night while the rest of you were sleeping comfortably in your beds. i never thought people actually sat around & just thought about things intently, but i guess i was wrong. now i'm one of those stupid people sitting on a park bench reflecting on life & our relevance to the tiniest blade of grass, dripping softly with morning dew. i am the thing that makes teenagers look bad. the melodramatic, reflective, spiritually inclined type. that annoying kid always rambling about something you have no idea about. of course, i normally don't ramble about the thoughts that scramble through my brain in normal conversation. that would probably drive people nuts. no, i just write it down, all neat & clear. i wish i could be plain, like brittany. no offense to brittany. i adore her. but she's so normal. so boring. same little day after day after day. same generic thoughts pulsating through her mind day after day. i bet she never obsesses over how to look someone in the eye during conversation or if you should hug someone back. or if your hands are clean or your eyelashes long enough. or how to blindly, intentionally talk someone into something or how to try to genuinely convince someone you care for them. no one obsesses over such menial things. such simple things that should come to us naturally. yeah, well, not me. hm. yeah. i'm social. yeah. i talk to complete strangers at the drop of a hat. but that doesn't mean that i don't analyze every single movement i make & every word that comes from my mouth & theirs. at this point, it's habit. i hate people. the igby goes down soundtrack describes my life, perfectly. perfectly. i would marry the person who purchased that for me. unless marriage isn't what you want. then i'll give you something reasonable, like 8 bucks. or a hand job. kidding, pups. |
