AlreadyDead (psykoboy2) wrote,
AlreadyDead
psykoboy2

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Verbal Vomit 2

One of the curses (and perks) of being an observer, thinker, non-risk taker, is that I can imagine a situation in my mind and explore almost every possible scenerio that situation has to offer, and for the most part I reach the conclusion that the situation wasn't worth getting involved in to begin with, course, I also come to the conclusion that it wasn't worth thinking out so much either.

Now, I'm not speaking specifically because there are a ton of situations I love to be in, regardless if I know the outcome or not. Love is probably the majority of those.

They are harder to predict, but yet easy to simplify.

Course, in the end of every situation there is always death. And contrary to what you may think, I don't really want to die. I'm fascinated with the thought of death..mainly my own, but I am equally as fascinated with life. It's just as much a mystery as what we think of while we're in the womb or being born as there is to what happens after death.

But, back to the death thing, I don't really want to die, least not without her, of course. But well, I've kinda gotten off subject here.

I remember being young and hating my parents for instilling this...I dunno...is it fear they put in me? Maybe consequence is a better term. Well, whatever it was it caused me to be very fearful of risks. While most people can just jump in without thinking, I'd waste hours on end thinking of different scenerios for the situation at hand, contemplating how worth while it was for me in the first place.

Guys would fuck girls because they were just horny and not use a condom. They'd go out knowing they had to work the next day and get shitfaced drunk and then bitch and moan the next day. They wouldn't think long term and they'd end up paying for it. But man, they had the best stories to tell too.

I remember in high school refusing to use cliff notes for book reports. Course, everyone else who used the notes got better grades than I and the one time I used them, hell I got the better grade than when I hadn't (I still went back and read the book anyway. Joyce's A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man). And reading back over that, it really has nothing to do with this topic of think-before-you-jump, but maybe what I am saying is, I tried doing things the right way. I was this Sam Beckett Boy Scout bullshit of a kid in high school attempting to make it work (and make it work good) by taking the road without short cuts. The path of the enlightened. Somehow, back then, I felt really alone on that path. And I questioned myself. I questioned myself and my actions many times. Everyone's doing it, so why not you? I hate that phrase. Peer pressure was different for me then. I had about 20 people to call my peers. Those 20 people were the rest of the world to me. They embodied the rest of the world at my age. I was a boy scout. No drugs, no drinks, no sex....nothing. But I studied. And I studied, and studied some more. And learned, and read, and....well, education was the only thing I dove into without thinking. Oh well, there was that one time with that girl...Becca. Yeah, I wasn't really thinking there. Then again, maybe I was trying to detatch myself from that persona. And now that I think about it...look where that path got me.

So, would I change any of it? Nah, not really. Some tweaks here and there, but overall, it'd all stay the same. Cause were it different, I wouldn't be where I am today. I doubt I would know any of you on my friends list and some of you in my life here at home, and that thought saddens me. Especially the thought aboot not having you in my life and some shit.

I know I went way off topic here, but it happens. I dunno, I just remember being so lonely in my thought process back then. I remember feeling so left out because I didn't do those things everyone else did. I remember not feeling unique and "special", but just pathetic and lonely. I remember hating myself...and maybe what happened with Becca was punishment. Self destruction through means of another. It's all memories now. A past that is fading. The one constant being my parents and the memory of them. That never goes away no matter how much you'd like it to.

If I were to cut myself open, not much of the past, save for my parents, would spill out onto the floor. Thoughts of her, pictures of her...she's all I really think about, you know.....it all would spill out and flood the room. And I would gladly drown in them. Pretty poison, I think I called it once...or maybe she did.

If you've come this far, thanks for sticking with me. I'm almost done.

An odd thought, however, is that I miss that boy scout and sometimes still feel him inside me. He isn't scratching to come back, he's just sort of watching from the inside. He doesn't laugh at my mistakes, oh no..that isn't the way of a boy scout. He's just watching and learning and offers advice when he thinks he should. I suppose he's better known as a conscience.

I miss my old self, and at the same time, I don't. An odd, yet probably very normal thing. Sometimes I don't think I am any different than what I ever was, but that's a lie. My parent's death changed me and there's nothing I could have ever done about that. I could never prevent something like that from changing me. Did it change me for better or worse, I have no idea.

Internal conflict. I can imagine a situation in my mind and explore almost every possible scenerio that situation has to offer, and for the most part I reach the conclusion that the situation wasn't worth getting involved in to begin with, course, I also come to the conclusion that it wasn't worth thinking out so much either.
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