Everything

This past week has been strange to say the least. I abandoned my blog. This mistake was my first of many because I lost the connection with myself. In this last week I became everything I "wanted": unaware and ignorant. I can honestly say I was alright, I relaxed, didn't worry about too much and didn't really think. This was nice, but all I can remember is this tugging feeling, like something was missing in my days. I had lost my introspection. I didn't have as high highs or as low lows as I always had which was nice but I realize now that that is something that makes up my character.

Well I just stopped typing to complete my math homework and seem somewhat productive and I was thinking about interpretation and how words on a page can be interpreted differently from how I meant them. So to give a small hint to my intended interpretation: while I am writing this, I am slightly sad. Sad because I am consumed by a video game, am detaching from the "real" world, have lost track of my blog, and not kept up with my honors science class, which I feel was slightly inevitable. This life is just sad. I know it's not definite but I seemed to have "realized" that I'm not destined to be happy like Whitman is. When I'm happy (not joyous, just not worried, troubled) I lose track of the world. It escapes from my clutches and I become delirious of it. In the past week I've been slightly arrogant, thinking that I had things under control just because I wasn't introspecting about what can be improved or what is to be bettered. The reason I am stressing tone is not only for interpretation but also because I really admire in poetry how words on a page can be beautiful (primarily when read aloud) just because they sound good, or flow or just because you decide that they sound good. The tone is so important. One cannot read poetry when too upset to rationalize that not everything is bad.

When I say that I'm consumed by a video game, I am talking about a video game that I have taken up that is very fun (stimulating) and will always be there. What I mean by this is that no matter what happens, people die, friends leave, girls reject, my hearts pains, the game will still be there and will still be stimulating. It's a crutch that I've taken up that distracts me from the magnitude of reality. I'm not sure if I'd still be here if there weren't a game to distract me. I wonder if 19th century teenagers had it worse or better (mentally/emotionally).

Today I met with my psychologist. I went in feeling like everything was going pretty smoothly (except for a fight with a close friend of mine, but I had mainly blocked that to remain ignorant, unaware, "happy") we discussed everything, primarily the fight and I walked out of there feeling like the biggest waste of cell tissue on the planet. I know that I exaggerate but I really was feeling down. It wasn't that anything my psychologist said that really made me feel this way, it was my initiated (by the meeting) introspection. I felt so stupid and naive to have been ignorant for so long and to have spoiled what I have (and yadayadayda, sulk, sulk, sulk) until in the locker room when a close friend of mine told me that I wasn't a waste. He said it so evenly without emphasis yet it felt so good. It felt so good to know that I had a real column under me rather than a temporary or "fake" one under me such as a video game. To have a real person remind you that you're wanted and expected (to exist) means a lot. Then, later, another good friend of mine messaged me on Facebook demanding a blog post. If not for him I might not be writing this, and if I weren't writing this I might still be wallowing in ignorance.

I guess what I have learned from this is that I need to be more appreciative of my friends in my return to reality.

I guess I will return to being myself, so, so flawed, yet still....me.