If You Build It, They Will Come.

Sunday, May 05, 2002

It's not cloud nine, it's wheel nine. The ninth leg of a spider. The ninth tenticle of an octopus. Looking for a tenth pin.

I hate sitting still.

I'll hold your hands with a smile on my face.

I know where I was four years ago today. Today I'm still in my dark bedroom. Still sitting there wondering why. Why hasn't it gotten any better? Why am I still wondering why?

Why do I bring this on myself? Do I bring this on myself?

Just once. Just once I'd like to do something right. I'd like to not fail at something. I wish for one second I could look at something I've done and say I was proud of myself.

How do you feel content when you feel dead?

Am I hoping? Wishful thinking?

We're all broken on the inside in some way. No one is flawless. No one is pristine. Everyone's got a screw or two loose.

I want to go back. I have regrets. Would my life be different if I had spoken up? Would the world be different if I was never here? Like in It's a Wonderful Life? How much difference have I made? I feel like there's a limited amount of happiness in the universe, and someone got mine. I feel bad for my parents. They have hopes for me. Yet they have to watch me fail over and over. I let them down. I wish they didn't care sometimes, so that I'd only let down myself.

You know Back to the Future, how Marty's family's whole life changes because of that one moment when his dad decks Biff? I missed my moment. I should've said something. I should've stood up. But I was scared. I was a dorky 12 year old kid. And I just stood by and watched. Life would be so much easier if I didn't care. But I've tried that. And it isn't me. I can't be the hammer, I have to be the nail.

Take control. I know what you mean now. I know you care. And I am so sorry I've let you down. I know it hurts you. It hurts me that it hurts you. I am so sorry. I'm not who you want me to be. I want to be so badly. I want to make you happy. I don't want to have to sit there and watch you cry. I am so sorry. I can't tell you that enough. I've never done anything. You can't tell your friends and neighbors that I have. You can't brag about me. I love you so much. I'm so sorry that I can't be like you wanted me to be.

I want nothing more than to make you proud of me. But I always fuck it up.

I want to make people happy. Based on me alone. I want someone to be happy because I am who I am.

I know I've been in love. I know it because I'm a 21 year old college guy, and I've been with girls who want nothing more than to hop on me every chance they get. And to a 21 year old college guy, that's the perfect girl. Low maintenace, lot's of lovin'. And it's good, don't get me wrong. But it's not great. Great was kissing her lips and having her pull her head back afterwards, tilt her head down, before opening her eyes, looking up at me and smiling. Great was making her laugh. Great was lying together on a couch and watching TV, feeling her heartbeat, watching her breathe. All that beats everything else by miles. For me I guess, good is not good enough. I'm not really interested in good. But how can I go to great if there is no good first? You know. You know long before you get there.

I haven't cried this hard in exactly four years.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know where I'm going. I know where I want to go, but I'm afraid to try it. I'm afraid it's going to be like everything else, where I put everything into it and it bombs. I hate that feeling. I hate putting everything I have into something and failing. I try again. I always try again. To date, I always lose again.

I've never dated anyone that I've liked first. Like that sounds bad. I like everyone that I've dated, but I've never liked them before they liked me. That sounds all well and good. But if you think about it, it means that every girl that I've liked that didn't know I existed, continues to not know I exist. That's a little drastic. But I've never said, "Oh that Cindy girl is cool. Maybe I should go talk to her." And then talked to her, and had her have an interest in me. It's never like, alright I got to hook up with her, it's always been, alright, she hooked up with me. Maybe that's a good thing. It doesn't always feel like it though. It feels like I'm not good enough for the people I like. Maybe once it was different. Once I had the storybook romance. Once she said "I love you too." Once I was in love. I'm sure of that. But I'm not dwelling on it, I just know it happened.

It's late. I think I'm just going to end up worrying my grandma with this post. Thanks for worrying Nana. I'm really okay. I just started typing tonight after talking with three different people about how happy they are, and wished I was there with them. I thought about a fourth, and realized that I am in a hole.

I'm happy for you all. I'll hold your hands with a smile on my face. But it's only half real.

Like I said, we're all broken inside in some way.


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