It's night. 3.04 AM. The cat's playing on the floor. I don't know what it's doing really, it's too dark to see. I don't think I care. All the things are on the floor because I haven't cared for weeks. I haven't given a shit about anything for weeks. I've tried to plan things and I've got excited. It works for a while. I've discussed with people and I've got nice messages just because of these people are my friends (or so I'd like to believe, as I always remind myself) and help because the people at work want me to be good at my work. If I'm not, I'm only a burden there, too. I've thought about future. The future, the unknown time ahead of me, the time of which I don't know anything about. I know I'm attending at least one concert this autumn, if I don't suddenly die or something else doesn't happen all surprisingly. I got a rejection letter from an university today. It doesn't concern me much, probably not as much as it should, at least if some of my family members are concerned. They shouldn't be, though. It's okay, I guess I'm over that. I should try, at least. What isn't over is the uncertainty. I don't know about my plans and I'm quite sure many people are in the same situation right now. Guess it's okay. It'll all clear up this week.
I'll get my tattoo done this Saturday. I'm not sure whether I hope it'll hurt or not, since it's my first tattoo and I don't know. I'm taking it all by myself. Many people have other people around when they get their tattoos or piercings, I've never had that. It's okay. I haven't asked anyone. I wonder if that's my problem, never asking, because people keep slipping away. They make distance. They forget or 'forget' or just simply let it be and go away without saying a word and never coming back. I try my best with relationships but I simply suck at it. I try to express my caring, I try not to over-express it, I try to be there and I try not to be too clingy and I try to be interested enough without being too annoying but it's all very difficult. I end up having very superficial friendships with people. They go away. They are based on a couple of things only. Those things can be an activity (drinking), company we have in common (if we're that kind of people who meet in parties of some people we all know), internet (obviously), a hobby of some sort (mainly dancing), an institution (school or work or in my case, former school) or something like that. It's all fine and dashing, I'm quite sure nearly everyone has that kind of friends.
I, however, have only that kind of friends. I think it's my own fault, in the end, but I'm not sure how. No one's ever told me yet one by one everyone goes away eventually. New ones come around. Old ones go away. Sometimes I wish someone would stay but I don't dare to hope that anymore because I've seen how it works with me, usually. I don't trust people anymore. I used to but it isn't a new thing that I don't trust - I haven't done so for years. Sometimes I wish that I mattered something to someone else but me and perhaps mum (if I matter something more to her than my achievements anyway). Usually I don't care because I can carry on like this, it's possible and sometimes even enjoyable. It's possible to be all alone and be happy. It's only challenging.
It's a bit tricky to get yourself to begin the day when you're tired, you suck at the work you do and you hate what the creature in the mirror looks like but it's possible. It's possible to feed the cat, drive to the office, be at work, do your work, come back home, eat and eat and eat and eat and then take a shower and sleep if the computer lets you. Sometimes the ideas grow too big and it's time to vomit them on the paper in the form of text or visual art. Sometimes someone asks out. Sometimes they even actually go out after asking. Mostly not but it's okay, I bet there's a reason for it. Maybe it is, indeed, my bad social self-confidence, the fact that I never ask people to do anything with me. Well, I do but very rarely, and only if the people have asked me before several times. I love doing things with people. I just feel like I bother them if I ask, I feel like they have better things to do by themselves or other company than it would be with me. I feel obligated to keep my company entertained and I'm not good at it so I get stressed and afraid and don't ask. I don't know if everyone realises it but it's a big problem to me and I have actually made progress with it; I have actually asked some people sometimes, even though I mostly get no and yes okay but they never tell me what time would be right and even though they were people who've asked me before. For me, it's a huge step.
Anyhow, maybe it's all fine and should be so. I don't know if everyone needs stable friendships. Lasting friendships. Friendships that don't go out of the window every second or sixth or eighteenth month or something like that. I've been around for almost nineteen years. I remember maybe fourteen or more. During that time I haven't had any friendships that would've lasted more than a couple of years (at most) except for that one that ended completely, once and for all, about three years ago.
I don't have anyone to talk to because I don't think that anyone gives a flying fuck about what's going on in my life and head. I don't want to bother people with those things, even if my head was about to explode. This is why I'm writing this entry, to keep my thoughts in order and away from other people's lives. This is probably my least read blog so it's good for this kind of things. If you're reading this, I don't know what to say to you. Hi maybe. Greetings. I could tell you dark things, I could tell you happy things. How could you know what's real and what's theatre? How could you know whether I'm telling you happy things because I want you to stop thinking I'm a no good attention whore? How could you tell if I was telling you dark and sad things because I'm actually feeling them inside my head and skin and bones every single second I'm alive and breathing? You couldn't. Or maybe you could, I don't know about you, but if it was me reading this as an outsider, I probably couldn't. I don't think you'd care and I don't think I care about that either, though. Now I'm rambling and I'm not even sorry because I'm writing this entry for myself and for me this makes sense perfectly well, at least as much as I usually do.
I don't know what to say or do anymore. I'd go somewhere but I don't have time. I'd get something. Maybe it'd make me a better person. Maybe it wouldn't. But the chances are. I wish it was autumn. This summer has sucked so much so far and it doesn't seem to get any better. I'm happy for all of the people who have good things in life and who are living precious, happy moments they'll always remember. I'm happy for everyone who live. Who breathe in the views of the misty summer mornings, whether it was after a very late night or a very early wakeup and who walk around the dim sidewalks or paths in the dead of night, who see the stars and galaxies and flashing lights and fireflies. You're all beautiful. You're all alive.
I don't really feel up to it. Haven't felt for a long, long time. But I have things to do.
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