Love Work Family Friends Games Kids Life

Posted by on 2011/10/31 under Uncategorized

I hate my life. I have tried so hard for so long not to. I have it easy, nothing necessarily traumatizing has ever happened to me. My problem is that I am too aware. I am too aware of my faults, but the ones I can’t necessarily change unless I just hide from people altogether. I am too aware of the f***ing hypocrisies that everyone commits, and I am too aware of how LITTLE compassion humanity has for humanity.

I am in college now. I went all the way from the west coast to the east coast. I left everyone. When my friends from back home tell me they miss me, I tell them I miss them too. My very best friend tells me she misses me and I tell her that I miss her too. But my roommate (who’s also a good friend of mine here) has talked about how she misses her brother so much that when she thinks about it, she aches. I have never felt this about anyone. Have I been lying to my friends? I thought when you said you missed someone it meant, “Yeah, I guess it would be nice to see you right now.”

I can’t remember the last time I genuinely felt happy. Sure, I have times when I laugh at something someone says, but I have not been genuinely happy with my life for, at the very least, two years. I thought that when I came to college this would change, I thought I was just down because I was bored with the same humdrum of life back home. When I first got here, I thought I was feeling better. I’ve been here over a month now and I now realize I haven’t gotten any better.

I hate it here. I hate college. Since 10th grade, I have wanted to become a forensic scientist and I’m currently majoring in chemistry to do that. But whenever I try to see myself in a few years close to graduating, or in grad school. I can’t see myself doing all the research I will surely have to do. I am smart, I’m not necessarily worried that I won’t be able to follow the subject, but I absolutely cannot picture myself sticking around here that long.

At first, I thought this was because I couldn’t picture my future because subconsciously I thought I’d be dead by that point. But I think about my future children every day. I think about the things I want to show them when they’re young, and how I should act with them so that I can have the same relationship with them as I have with my mother, because my mother is incredible, raising me on her own. I am obsessed with the way I’m going to behave as a parent so that my kids have the same opportunity to be aware of the world, because I’ve come to realize that 90% of the people I’ve seen in my life don’t think about anything or anyone past their own little bubble. Nobody gives a f***, and if you think you’re above that statement you’re not. If you really gave a f***, you would feel as hopeless as I do everyday.

It’s such a delicate line, because I want my children to care about things the way I do, but I don’t want them to be as unhappy as I am. How can one possibly manage to balance both? I haven’t yet found the answer to that.

As much as I think about my children, I never think about who I will share those children with. Maybe that’s because my sexuality is all over the place; I am attracted to men, women, gay men and women, bisexual men and women, transgender men and women, I’m not really sure where it stops. I am fine with my sexuality. For all the conservative f***s who say it’s wrong, it doesn’t have an effect on me because I know that they either have no idea what they’re talking about, or they’re closeted homosexuals as it is.

I have theories as to why I don’t think about my future partner. The first one is that my mother, who was artificially inseminated to have me, is my only example as to parenting, and since I’ve seen her raise me on her own, I only see that for myself as well. The second and less likely theory is that I can see myself with so many types of people, my subconscious just can’t choose between them when picturing the future.

But sometimes I feel like it would be easier to just go at it alone. When I’m pregnant and about to give birth, I plan on moving to the forest or somewhere away from the city because I don’t want my child’s first breath to be of the smog of a city and I don’t want the first faces they see to be the faces of liars. I want to move to a cabin in the middle of nowhere and possibly wait tables at a local diner for the rest of my life, or something along those lines. It’s not like I care if I’m poor, as long as I can feed those I’m responsible for and provide them shelter.

It’s strange to me as it is that I chose a city to reside in for college. I hate people, and that’s all I’m surrounded by. I’m also a naturalist, and I have only seen one block sized patch of grass since I’ve been here. How do my decisions make any sense?

Maybe I chose a city so that I would have better chances of finding someone who cares about me, because as much as I hate to admit it, I hate this feeling of loneliness. I may say I hate people, but I want more than anything to find that one person who truly understands the things that go through my mind. I can picture the relationship and understanding that we will have for eachother, but I can’t picture the person specifically.

For a few years, I knew I’d never get married, but I thought it would be because I wouldn’t want to get married because the whole institution of marriage is such a f***ing joke. It’s a mindless tradition, that’s the only way I can put it. In recent months, I’m starting to think I won’t get married just because nobody will offer. As high of expectations I have for the relationship dynamics I expect to have, I never feel I’m good enough for the other person.

I don’t even believe in love. I’d have to see it to believe it. What I do know is that most people near my age have not even come close to the maturity level needed to decide whether or not they’re in love, if it, in fact, exists. Don’t get me wrong, I want to believe in it. It sounds nice, but it just seems to good to be true.

I just want to find someone where we’d slowly start to get to know eachother without really thinking about it going anywhere and then eventually we would just end up together without ever really deciding it. It would be as mindless a decision as turning a key into a lock, and it would fit together just as well. Over the years, we would slowly start to distance ourselves from people, because I know that the majority of my unhappiness is at the fault of what I see from other people. We would be completely content to only be in each other’s company. I might keep in touch with friends through letters, phone calls, and visits when I’m in town, but I’d only spend most of my time with this person.

I would notice the litte things they do and make note of them and memorize them and share them with this person, and I wouldn’t have to ask them to do the same with me.

I would give them little kisses without having to decide when was a good time to do that, and they would naturally do the same with me, as a reminder that even when it’s tough, being affectionate is appropriate just for the sake of being affectionate.

I would be able to walk around our space naked, without it having to turn into anything sexual, just because the other person can recognize that the beauty of a naked body is primal, and I wouldn’t have to invite them to do the same.

They wouldn’t be self conscious about their body because their self-image would not be tied to their self-worth.

We would learn about various aspects of the goings-on of the world and teach the other, just for the sake of learning new things.

The image I have of the person I would fall in love with if love existed is very utopian at the root, so in that sense I am rather picky. But the things I want to see from them don’t have to happen all at once, we could learn about eachother as time progresses.

What is frustrating is that I can’t actually be picky right now, though I want to and would probably be happier if I could. Because my preconceived notions of people obviously will not match the kind of person they could truly be. I know that I’m going to have to know a lot of people who don’t live up to my expectations before I find that one person who, behind the scenes, is as well rounded as I wish the world could be.

If you have read up to this point, you may find this a rude thing to say and you might now consider me a b****. But as I mentioned before, humanity doesn’t generally care about humanity, is it wrong for me to want to find that rare person who does care about humanity? Does that make ME the b****? Are you sure?

I am 99% sure I will never find this person, that I will raise those kids by myself. Maybe I shouldn’t bring those kids into the world if I can’t even teach them to be happy.

There are certain things everybody needs in life, but almost everything we crave are wants. I am as guilty of that is the next person. But I can’t help but feel like my wants are more complicated and less easily satisfied than other people.


This is why I don’t want to live. I have such high expectations for everything and I just can’t bring myself to live in ignorance even though it would diminish the high level of unhappiness I feel. I used to want to live to be one hundred years old, but I can no longer seeing myself live that long unless I allow my sanity to disappear with every day I force myself to live through.

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