Been shifting positions and moving places for a while now but nothing is comfortable because that’s how pain is.
Literally in pain.
But it sounds quite nice metaphorically too. Let’s stick with that.
When my friend forgot my birthday and (jokingly, but still) blamed it on me not posting it on Facebook and never greeted me personally, it hit me: we’re probably no better than simple acquaintances. At that moment I realized that we have been so dependent on chats and text messages that I am still admittedly uncomfortable talking to Friend face-to-face. I can’t believe that my usually sentimental, friendship-obsessed self has allowed for our friendship to be built upon communication through Facebook and our keypads.
And now it’s taking its toll.
Around Friend, I constantly suffer from my awkwardness and trust issues. That doesn’t happen to people I label as a close friend. Friend and I do know a lot about each other. But the favorite-whatever know. The basic-details know. Now that I think about it, it’s pretty shallow. Idk what sets Friend off, philosophy in life, first impression of me, etc.
Online, I’m okay. I say things I wanna say, barely thinking twice about it. But when I actually see Friend, we barely talk. And when I do talk I feel uncomfortable. So I opt to stay quiet. After a while Friend leaves and the cycle is repeated.
I’m trying to break it.
Happy seventeenth birthday, self! Be happy today, you always find a reason to be 🙂
*This is my favorite day because I turn 17 on the 17th. 🙂
Sometimes you don’t think enough, sometimes you think too much.
I think today I went with the latter and I don’t know,
I think I kind of regret it.
And the many years to come.
On Thursday, I am going to turn seventeen.
I really, really think my 17th birthday is very special. (Even more so than my 18th.) I really want it to be.
And that’s why I am planning my week. What to do (that is, watch Les Misérables!), what to eat (that is, almost anything).
I dunno how I feel though. I’m not sure if I’m excited.
I’d like to be.
But planning these things alone,
planning to go to the movies and planning to have a costly, yummy birthday lunch alone can suck the excitement out of it all.
And then there’s the maybe’s and the if’s
and the nevermind’s.
Maybe Thursday won’t be so bad. Maybe watching a movie alone won’t be so bad. It’s Les Misérables after all. Maybe lunch by myself would be nice considering the suffocating days I’ve had lately.
If I was home, I’d be sure to have a splendid time. My family will make sure I have the best day and I won’t have to think twice about asking my friends to join me for lunch. If they haven’t set a lunch date already.
And there’s really not much I can do so nevermind.
I think I have been so much better at sucking it up recently. And so that, I shall do.
But it’s still quite sad.
I want chocolates and potatoes and cheese and flowers and hugs and kisses and my family and friends on my birthday.
My 17th birthday which will only come once in forever.
And gosh. If I’m a mess right now, I can’t imagine how the heck I’m going to make it through Thursday.
And I thought this year was going to be better.
I really hope I’m wrong.
I just want to be preoccupied.
That, while I am trying to figure out where I really am going, I will be preoccupied by something.
Something that makes sense. Something that matters. Something that I’m good at.
I’m not really sure if this is it. If this blog is it. If the half-baked posts, pretentious thoughts (I sometimes think) are it.
I always doubt that they are, and I think this is because there’s just so many amazing posts out there.
No, I don’t measure by the responses and/or clicks of buttons.
It’s more of the feeling I get when I read a post by a stranger or a friend and how I read my own stuff and I doubt very much that anyone feels like I feel towards those by other people.
I’d love to impress people with my drawing but I can’t draw to save my life. I can’t sing, let alone write songs. I can’t write poems or stories. (I try and this is it)
Ah and now it’s out. Maybe it’s the frustration from wanting to impress people. And not.
Or maybe it’s what I’ve always thought–the frustration from seeing kids my age publishing things people love, touring all over the world to show their talent, creating things people would pay to see.
Things that always lead me to ask,
What am I doing with my life?