apocatolypsemeow-blog

[apocatolypsemeow-blog]

God I hate myself

11/19/2017

I’m stuck. The internet has just told me i have a bad life. More and more these days i have been wishing that I had somebody by my side…. Somebody i can wake up to. And everyday i ask myself how do I put myself into that situation? The internet told me that once I get my life together that all these things WILL come to me. But is that true? DO i have to put aside all of the things that make me complacent in order for my dreams to come true? I have to completely change myself (or as they would call it, grow) in order to get what i want? I guess in order for that to be true, then there would have to be something wrong with me right now? But if there is something wrong with me now, and in order for there to not be something wrong with me then (in the future), then in the future I wont have anything wrong with me? There is a guaranteed life of happiness for those that choose to “get there shit together”…. Is that true? For what I can understand, is that people generally don’t have their whole lives together at any point in time, only things they pick and choose to have put together. They choose to be this instead of that, in order to get all those things that they wre told they were supposed to have. This longing, even when i did get what i want, never stops. Feeding that unconscious will to live doesn’t matter, for if it does matter, then there would need be a solution, an end goal, a purpose for the suffering that you live through, and how can you prove that exits? People who say they feel great because they cut out the booze and weed and got a girlfriend and go out and live “normal” lives…. Did they find the solution? Do they not have problems? DO the problems that they have not manifest themselves into different means and effect their lives that they chose to create? And if so, how do they deal with them? I think it’s a cycle of depression based around the fact that i don’t know. I assume one would be begging me to try it out at this point… One would assume that I would be begging myself to try it out as well… But where is my motivation to do so? I’m afraid I would resort back to the person I once was. Weed and booze isn’t the problem for me, its myself. There is something deep down inside me that is woeful and scared and has lived with me for as long as i can remember. And even at my greatest heights of self confidence and self esteem, i never truly lived the absence of that fear. This was before I learned of foreign influences onto my perception, and now I can’t live without it. As far as facing my fears, i face them everyday when i wake up, noticing the passing of time throughout the day, and ending with it starring me in the face as i try to go to sleep. I am an unhappy man, I have been that way since birth, unless blinded by my stupidity and adolencent menace. What i’m lacking is friends, and i have so since i came to Houston. It was easy for me to make friends in nac because I could easily surround myself with people with common interests, or at least mutual understandings about who I am. But now it’s different, now i have to change myself in order to make friends here, im the once who doesn’t fit in, i’m not the cool one anymore. So my discontent isn’t because there is something wrong with me. No, it is becaue I am waiting, as i usually do, for my friend to finally come back into my life. And it’s patience. Things will come. I just have to be patient, and reminding myself of all the things that i don’t have only makes things worse. I won’t fall in line with their group think. I shouldn’t have to. And if im being too cynical, that’s okay. My life isn’t anything special in order for me not to be. I have the freedom to be cynical, if one chooses to call it that. I have the freedom to live my life as an experiment, to see how far down the rabbit hole i can go. The rabbit hole of (depression, addiction, being myself, reclusive) just to see where it will end up.

I have learned that i am not the person that when he invites somebody out, they get exciged to go.

 12/31/2017

Today is New Year’s Eve. The end of a long, exhausting year. What have i learned? Am i more confident? Am i less depressed? You can tell because I am writing this that i am no more mentally stable than when i started the year. I am continually degrating. Look at me, writing a self pity post on new year’s eve. I should be out, having fun, like a normal person. And yet I am sitting on my grandparent’s house wishing I could drink. I don’t give a shit about what they think. You know what my grandparent’s are? They are just old, Christian black people who only think of the world in a bubble. They have no interest in getting to know me as a person. Is that a selfish thing to say? Should i give a shit that my grandparents don’t want to get to know me? That all they are interested in doing is instilling their values upon my corrupted mind. I am such a terrible person in their eyes… If they only knew. I am a disappointment to them, but they “still love me”. Like I need to be reminded of that blanket statement. They “love me”. So? I can’t say  I love them all that much. Why should I? Just because they are my grandparents? I don’t know them at all. They are just people to me, people close to me, only because they are forced to be. If they had their way I would be out of this house in a heartbeat. I feel strong emotions towards them, and I wish they would just go to bed.

Is this how I really feel or do i just want a drink? I am upset because they don’t want me to drink. I am my own man, I can decide whether I can drink or not. It’s about “respecting” their house, but on what basis am I respecting them? What does it mean “respecting” their house? Respecting the fact they don’t drink? Well i drink. And honestly it’s not about drinking, it’s about beign told what to do, and i am sick of it. They are treating me like I am a little kid and i wont have it. I will drink a gallon under their noses to prove that they have no absolutely no control over me. God I am so pathetic. That’s 2017 for you. Ryan Nickerson being pathetic. Making self pity posts that are supposed to prove that I am right, that the world is against me, well guess what Ryan, you are shit, that’s why you havnt graduated college, that’s why people don’t respect you, that’s why people trat you like a kid, why you don’t get called back, why you can’t meet people, why you don’t have a car, why you’re addicted to drugs and alcohol, why you don’t have any friends, why you are continually forcing yourself to think that you are unique and clever and smart and stable and handsome when really you are hanging on a thread that is soon to be broken. You cannot see yourself as much as everybody else can, that’s why you hate looking in the mirror, becaue your selection of your perception is disgusting. I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. I want to tear into somebody so badly, to make them feel awful.

What does 2017 mean? Is it an actual milestone? Deos it really mater? If i walk into 2018 with this shitty attitude, will it mean 2018 will be bad? Is there any reason to look forward to the next year other than for some arbitrary, cliché reason based on a lie? Is there any room for hope? God I am so pathetic.

God I am so pathetic.

Self pity for the poor.

Confidence for the rich.

I hate myself so fucking much.

I just wish somebody will walk into my life and make me feel normal, make me feel like i am doing something right, something that is ordianary. What did I do to deserve to be treated like I am an exception to the rule? What did I do to feel like an exception to the rule…

Clock0 *�H����s�i

[apocatolypsemeow-blog]

If you are a government agency or if you are future me or some random follower who likes reading my self depreciating, self pitting and frankly obtuse journal: prepare for this long post! ;)

Back to freshman year!

Freshman year of college was a very strange time. I didn’t know anything, like anything at all! And yet, the people I met there at that time are very vivid in my memory. It really set the pace for the rest of my college career. You know, people say that college is a time to reinvent yourself, I say that’s bullshit. If you try to reinvent yourself in college you will end up lying to yourself the whole time, because you can’t fabricate a personality based off of your own likeness. You’re going to remain that same throughout your whole lie, just with different opinions and circumstances. You become a more logical person, but definitely not a different person. You become more logically sound in who you are. You say “I’m this person, and based off of my own experiences up to this point I can only assume that doing whatever I would do in this circumstance would be the best course of action.” And I know what you’re thinking, you can’t say that in every situation. Sometimes you do things for the sake of other people, regardless of what you would do in that circumstance. Well I would say to that: there is no selfless acts. You can’t do anything in this life without it being inherently selfish. You can’t say that in tthis situation I will do this soley for this other person, because that is still doing it for yourself. You’re just justifying that it is a selfless act in order to feel like you’re doing selfless acts. That’s why you do things: in order to get some sort of response and reaction or anything really from it. I need to learn more about selflessness, in order to be more logical and not sound like a crazy person. So tbc.

I wonder what would happen to me if I became improsed… what would I do? What would I have done to get me up to that point? How would everybody react? I think… my life would be over. I mean I don’t think there would be any real reason for me to live…. Everybody consider me an idiot. I don’t want to tthink about this anymore, it’s giving me a headache.

I didn’t date in my freshman year. Not because of choice, but just because I had several unsucccefull attempts at it. How the hell was I supposed to get a girlfriend anyways? I was, and still kind of am, a puny nerdy guy with no common sense. Now im still a puny guy with a little bit of common sense. Regardless, I was going to the wrong school at the wrong time for me to get girls. SFA is a school that is salivated in masculinity. I mean, even the girls licked it up. They saaat on the faces of gender roles and boned all of the masculine dudes. If I was a cool, masculine, strong dude, sfa would be a hivemind for me of stds and condom expenses.

I don’t feel like myself lately… have been ujnmotivated. Correction, have been unmotivated to motivate myself. That’s the way it usually works. Even just now, I picked up a book and decided it wasn’t working for me. Nothing sparked. I think that’s my problem. I wait along for something to spark my interest, pursue it with great intentions, and fall through half way in. I get bored too easily on my personal projects…. Well, at least for stuff that catches only half of my attention. Sometimes something grabs me to the fullest, like Dharma Bums. I could read that again in one sitting. Maybe I will. Maybe I will…

It's been a while since I talked. It stings me to write these words. I got an email today from financial aid lona service . They told me they are there to help. I started to cry.

For some reason writing is starting to hurt, and it’s starting to take over my life. Not that I had a life to be taken over… Why do I do this to myself? Whenever I start writing I always want to start writing something truthful and that makes me want to cry. It’s as if I have all these feelings that need to come out… Maybe this break from writing has really gotten me stopped up. I mean, I think maybe I need my daily medicinal writing. Don’t you think? I mean, today was something else, it was a rollercoaster of emotions, and even though I have cleaned my self out there is still some residue. I don’t know, im just typing words at this point. It feels good to type. It feel natural. I remember in higihschool I took a keyboarding class. What a fucking waste of time, and at the same time it was one  of the most important classes I’ve ever taken. On one hand, it was the first period of my first day ever in highschool, so it was pretty weird. I… I… I’m think of it now. I remember I was one of the few freshmen in the class, the rest were goofballs and clowns. People that were serious about school didn’t take that class, but at the same time it gave me skills and rescources that ive just gotten better at through the years. I mean, I remember I went into that class not knowing how to type at all. But all it took was my teacher, I think her name is Ms. Waslayena. Or at least that’s how you pronounce it, all it took was for her to put boxers on my hands. It forced me not to look at my fingers when I type. I saw my progression right in front of me. I mean, I guess that was the point of the class, to see yourself get better throughout the class. But then again, it didn’t’ really count as a credit. It should be counted as a humanities or philosophy class. God I am such a weird nerd. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep on criticizing myself? I keep on freaken, idk. It’s like I can’t even take myself seriously why would anybody take me seriously? I think that actor lady found me attractive. I can’t tell. Maybe. That shoulder touch. Future me, if you are so bored and are reading this terribly, just awfully, written paragraph, one, you need to go to bed. And two, you need to realize that I am talking about my first ever screenwriting meetup. Look at me, writing in my little blog like a little fourth grader. You might as well role the closing credits. Maybe it’s because I can’t stay focused. Maybe it’s because I am fucked up all the time. Maybe it’s clouding my vetter judgment. Maybe that’s why stoners can’t do well in life, they are always never finishing. God, what a direction my life has turned.

I remember sitting in my dorm room in my freshman year of college looking at a website about weed. I was fascinated. I don’t remember when I started getting interested in smoking, but for some reason I got really intrigued. I think it was because of the pot brownie. Man, that was marvelous. I will never get that high again. Yeah so one day Dion brings back pot brownies. We eat them, you know it’s the classic story. We eat them, we hang out waiting for them to start activating or whatever, and we get disappointed, thinking that it didn’t’ work. Then all of a sudden I can’t feel my tongue. I ran into my dorm with dion and invite my friend sam over. Sam didn’t’ have any friends then so he starting hanging out with us. God, sam is such an interesting character. I’ll talk aobut him later. But yeah, this pot story is borning me. We didn’t do anything. I mean, we walked around but I don’t know, we were just kids.

I think I start to cry when I write this because it is the most pathetic thing I do. I just feel bad about the whole thing. Maybe it does get random thoughts off my chest, but is it worth it? To log all of this? Nobody will read it… I need to stop second guessing myself and just do it.

I feel like I must be doing something wrong with this job thing because things arnt happening. Why is everything my fault, or at leaset feel like it is?

 8/31/17: My mission statement:

For here on out, I will set aside time to write The Buddy System every single day.

For here on out, I will only drink coffee, water, and beer.

For here on out, whenever I write I will put my phone in another room on silent.

For here on out, I will write for time, not content.

For here on out, I will only write in my free time during the day.

For here on out, I will focus on my writing.

9/6/17

Some days are better than others. Nothing is every how you would expect it to be. Today I started working at the library at Texas Southern. I had such high hopes about it; it’s not terrible. It’s just boring. I had high hopes about today, about how it was going to be a good day, but it ended up being  dissapoiment. Once again, nothing bad happened specifically, and of course I am beign a bit too overdramtic, but I woke up with such good feelings that I expected to carry on through the day, but didn’t. Instead, all I got was insecurity, boredom, disappointment, and hunger. And im cold, sitting at this desk with no food. I wonder if Jordon made any of that chicken. You know, typing this is making my fingers feel a bit better. At least it is killing time. Anyways, maybe I shouldn’t expect good days or bad days, maybe the feelings I feel when I wake up are not premminitions, but just feelings tht don’yt represent anything beyond my own head. Maybe feelings are not important and the oder of nature is just a random set of coincedences that just happen to work out. But how do you control your feelings? Are you supposed to? How do you deal with them? I guess dealing with negative emotions is important, but if you deal with hgetting rid of negative emotions, wouldn’t you also hve to deal with getting positive emotions? What is with this emotional bias towards happiness? I mean, think about it. If you feel happy at any point in time it is going to go away, just like sadness. But we put so much effort into dealing with and removing sadness from our lives that we make being happy the ultimate goal. And then when we become happy, and it leaves us, just like sadness, it all we can think about is that high that happiness gave us. It’s a drug, and I’m willing to let go of it, all of it, in order to not feel the emotional tole that disappointment brings. I guess I am coming from the point of view of someone that ris more disappointed than the alternative. Maybe it boils down to me not having such high expectations out of life. But why should i? My faather has always told me he holds me to a high expectation, but why? What would be the end goal? For me to be a happy person? For him to be? For me to be a man? For him to be? Or maybe it’s all of the above, but that’s risky business because of disappointment. What would the alternative be though? He could just not hold me to a standard? Or maybe hold me to a lesser standard? What would my life be like is my faather held me to a terrible standard? I would probably surpass his expectations. What if he didn’t hold me to a standard? Nothing bad, nor good would happen, it would just be us living in the moment, taking it day by day, taking what is and isn’t and that would be all. Maybe that’s how you are supposed to treat life, with no expectations, with no standard, because once you create a standard, then everything is either going to fall above or below that standard, things are either going to be good or bad, and that is the root of problems. Good vs. Bad.

I wish I could write that more eloquently. I am sure I could. For whomever is reading this right now, you should totally try and rephrase whatever point I just made to something that makes you sound deep. What is my obsession with being “deep”? Is it to compensate for not having anything on the surface? What does that mean? Do I look too far into things, or does my logic of overthinking have some truth. Ah, that’s what it must be. Truth. Truth is a lie within itself, the only things that could be considered objectively true are the things that you can see, calculate and it be transferred through the universe and have a collective agreement on it. And what is that? Nothing in this realm of thinking. I mean I don’t think my consciousness has the ability to comprehend something that is universally true. I mean, I know what you’re thinking, what about numbers? For clarification, number are an agreed upond system of measurement by the human raise, they do not necarelly dictate universally.

 Moment by moment. Breath by breath, humanity hangs on a thin thread, on the verge of melting and combusting. One word, one slip, one loss of breath. And yet, we remain in balance.

9/8/17

I think I want a girlfriend. A cute black girl with natural hair who isn’t obseesed with social status or going out or appearences. I want a girl that is funny, witty, socially conscious, opinionated, smart, eats healthy, SMOKES WEED, has a wide range of music, has a taste in art, fucks all the time, isd non conformist, denies tradiontional gender roles, likes to eat, is cool. Pretty much the perfect person I guess. I know that is a lot to ask for, and a lot of it I have to find within myself, blah blah blah. You know, why is it that I have to follow conventional wisdom? Just because I read all these things about, oh, you’re never going to find the perfect match, you have to be right within yourself before you can find the right person, people aren’t going to love you until you love yourself, blah blah blah. Fuck all that shit. Girlfriends just don’t appear when you’re ready, it’s all just coincidence and circumstance. There is no cosmic order that supplies to girlfirends once they are deemed responsible by the Christian nations in this world. Also, I want a girlfriend that is not Christian. Is that too much to ask?

Somebody stole my bike…. Or at least, that is what I can assume. For some reason I saw this coming. For some reason whenever I would look out onto the balcony I would always expect my bike to not be there. For some reason I wasn’t as shocked as I could be once I found out that my bike was gone… It had to be somebody near me. Somebody who lived near me.

9/11/17

So far in my classes today I have not learned anything. So far it has just been an accumulation of of professor rants and sidebars, and it’s the third week of school and have not started any lectures. Teacher here are jut going to put us in groups and just start lecturing from the book. But let’s not give them that much credit. What is really is going to happen is the kids in the class are going to run the class, continue to distract themselves with cell phones and worldstar, while the professor continues to rant through their perceptions.

 9/17/2017

What am I waiting for? Why can’t I act on the things thata I want to? Is it the drugs? Why do I keep asking myself that question when I know the answer? Why do I keep asking questions??? I wish my brain would just shutup, but the more I silence it the more it wants to speak. I can’t escape myself and I feel the urge to get out but I just cant. I cant. I cant stop saying I cant. My body does one thing and my mind says another. What do I do? Who do I talk to?

Oh here we go. Another self pity induce crying fit about to happen. I’m such a little ibtch. I’m such a pussy. Get over yourself. You see, now I know that wasn’t true because it didn’t make me tear up. Something is wrong with me. That I know of. Something deep inside me is damaged and it needs repairing, and I can’t keep reparing it with drugs and alcohol. Oh shut the fuck up ryan jesus Christ. People are going through a lot worse than you and yet you still find reasons to complain.

You see what this is? This is your dad speaking to you. STOP. Don’t let him get to you. Run from him.

9/25/2017

I can’t stand people, i think that is the conclusion that i have made in my head. I can’t stand women, and i can’t stand men. I can’t stand why they feel the need to do the things that they do. Especially college aged people.. They’re disgusting. Why is it that women feel the need to be cute, to be proper, to be #queens? Don’t they see the fault in that? What are they being cute based off of? Who told them they had to be proper, why can’t they be on the same level as kings? Why do men feel the need to expel there heterosexuality? Why do they feel the need to prove it? To want more, to always be searching for that confirmation that they are a man? I just don’t get it. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like i have all the answers, but i definitely have a lot of questions. I think this was all triggered by looking at the Instagram comments on the articles about the #takeaknee thing. Like, they are literally protesting racism, how can you be against that? Well, people said that it was offensive to the troops. What troops are saying that though? It’s unpatriotic…. Give me a break. Once black people starat doing “unpatriotic” things, then all the people who benefit from America start being patriotic. Plus, why should i give a shit about the troops? I didn’t ask them to fight for me, and what are they fighting for anyways? My freedom? Who is encroaching on my freedom? Am i under a direct threat to my way of life from foreign invaders, or is America spreading values that aren’t mine across the globe? If that is the case, then why should i support that? I seriously do not give a shit about the troops, and i don’t respect the people that do. It’s patriotism without thinking about what patriotism is. I know these are unpopular opinions, but it is interesting that i would be shot dead in the streets if i were to say that. I can’t even post that online without fear of maybe a future employer finding that and not hiring me because i don’t support the troops publicly. I think that people do things because it is the “right” thing to do, but i don’t think that people think about what is the right thing. I think that people just accept their opinions as true and won’t listen to anybody else that inflicts with their morals. And i think that makes them bad people. I think close minded people are bad, and yes, there are things that i am close minded about too, but hey i guess that would make me a bad person then, right?

Yes, it is time for me to start accepting who i truly am. I don’t go outside to meet people. I don’t extend myself farther then would be immedieatly comfortable. I don’t want to. I don’t hide the fact that i am scared to go outside my comfort zone, to break out of my usual space for the sake of some sort of media dreamland destined for picturesque photos and high school musical messages. I don’t think the world works like that, or at least mine. But why not? My mother told me today that i am a direct result of my own thought… is that true? How could it be? It doesn’t make any logical sense.

Figure it out, make it happen, say something else. Don’t get distracted, have faith, see it all through. Fuck all that, sit down, stay inside, fuel your hate. Make sure your house isn’t burned.

There is a small variety of people that attend texas southern university. There is, of course, the outspoken studnets, who, when given a chance, will dominate a classroom and start reinforcing their opinions, pretending they are right. But nobody will challenge their ideas unless they want to be classed a know it all. Or wrong. Or an outcast. At texas southern, you either conform or sit and watch, diversity in thought is an issue.

Then there is the people who just care about social media. I think social media gives black people who don’t speak a voice, a distraction, escapism from the ideas of this university. Education, capitalism, race, they are all permanent figure heads that propel an existential crises to the lost youth. And yet, nobody talks about it, it’s mostly just black social justice, an institution that breaks down more than it builds. The things that it does build are biased and void of deeper thought. Not to be confused with me being agisnt social justice. I just don’t like biased social justice. I guess there is no way to be completely unbiased. But it is time for us to decide that race is a social contruct that matters on an abstract level, but not physical level. I wonder why.

11/03/2017

Today is my birthday, and once again, through y triple sec sticky fingers, I have become morbidly depressed. Not going to lie, I have faught it off all day. I mean to think of all the mental hurdles i went through to try and justify to myself that i wasn’t sad. I felt it all day long… when i opened the fridge i had to remind myself not to let the depression that is in the back of my mind creep to the front. I put on a smile for Jordon, tried to engage in conversation, tried to be lively, tried to be truthful. But today i realized the difference between jrodon and a friend… Jordon doesn’t get personal. Jordon doesn’t want to talk about all of the emotional trauma that my mind goes through, whether justified or not. Jordon goes through that already, i mean everybody does. Only friends try to pry deeper into another individual. Jordon is my roommate, and my brother. Nothin more nothing less. He is there to look after me though…. I think my problem is i treat everybody as either a brother or an enemy, there’s no in between. I wish i was social, i think i used to use socialization in ancogdoches to combat my depression, and it usually worked. But here in Houston i don’t have that rescourse; i don’t have any connecting bonds with anybody else, anybody that i can be honest with an share my true feelings with…. I feel helpess. Depression….. look at me i havnt even been diagnosed with depression and i am acting like i technically have it… what’s wrong with me? Everytime i ask myself that question it is usually after some morally deficient, or self deprication remark that i try to push down inside of me… but i continue on… maybe that’s why i am constantly sad, becaue i have reasoned with myself that i am a good person when really… i am bad

#drunk

[apocatolypsemeow-blog]

Freshman year:

Ahhh move in day! What a time to be frightened! I remember seeing all these kids my age running around with their newly bought luggage and furniture, running into Lumberjack Landing with their parents that all look like mine. The kids (I mean college kids, freshman age), were all scared, the parents were either more excited than the kids or grumpy about the drive. Because SFA was in the country, deep country. Most of the kids there were either from Houston or dallas, so it takes about 3-4 hours to get the Nacogdoches, depending on where you were. Man… driving up to lumberjack landing… all the cars, all the purple banners, all the white people with their freshly bought stuff. Did I already say that? Let me reiterate one more time: compared to my stuff, THESE KIDS HAD BRAND NEW STUFF. I’m not saying all of my stuff (which wasn’t a lot) wasn’t new, but I definitely wasn’t new. I know that’s confusing, but it makes sense to me. Maybe one day ill go back and edit this and publish it in my memoirs. As if, as if I will live a life that would require memoirs. C’mon ryan, self confidence much?

Anyways, I moved in to my dorm Top floor (4th), my roommate’s name was Ryan McEntee, a white dude who was in the military… You know, I forgot the name of it, but the people who were… ROTC, that’s what he was in. ROTC. But yeah, he was kinda a douche. I remember because the first night there he had a girl over in his bed. Super awkward stuff. And it seemed pretty hypocritical to his Christian agenda to be fooling around with this other ROTC chick, but regardless, I for the most part got a long with him. His first impression of me was me playing League of Legends as he walked in. He was already moved in by the time my parents dropped me off. And they seriously just dropped me off, helped move my stuff in the dorm, and left. No dinner or anything. I guess they wanted to hit the rode pretty quickly.

So I was settled in. I didn’t have any intention of leaving my dorm the first day, too hot, too many people, too many attractive girls. I was still in my super awkward phase (im just in my little bit awkward phase now) and so I didn’t have any self awareness or confidence. The dorm did however host an event that I decided would be smart for me to go to. It was a gathering at the pool by the rec for some sort of party with cotton candy and family safe stuff going on. I went with my little party from my dorm, I didn’t know any of them, and I didn’t really care to all that much, non of them seemed cool. While I was there I hung out with little pockets of people. Nobody really cared enough to ask me my name, but nevertheless I did find one kid who seemed a little bit interesting. His name was emil, and he is still a facebook contact to this day! I remember seeing him because he was wearing his cutoffs and his hair was all over his forhead, I thought he was an emo punk combo [somebody that I would hang out with in highschool, somebody I thought I could immediately be comfortable with]. Here’s how the intereaction went:

R: Hey what’s up man

E: Hey.

R: these tihngs are pretty lame right? [I wasn’t hitting on him I swear]

E: Yeah for sure.

R: Yeah I can’t really talk to these people, ya know?

E: yeah it seems pretty cliquish. Im… I’m not really into these types of parties, I mostly just like to watch movies.

[I get excited aat this point. I mean could you imagine? Finding  someone I could share my love of movies with on my FIRST DAY?]

R: Dude you like movies too? That’s awesome! My name is Ryan

E: Emil.

We sit on a hill and start talking about movies and shit. We soon find out that we are both geology majors, and my excitement reaches new levels. I mean, I think I made a best friend on my first day of college! I decide to make my move.

R: Okay fellow nerds human [didn’t really say that, for clarification, future person], how about I ask you the ultimate question a film nerd can ask… What’s your favorite movie?

E: Uhm…. I would have to say it would have to be the thin blue line by Terrence Malik.

What kind of dense, sophisticated person did I run into. Could it be? Could this really be happening?

R: Oh man, dude that’s awesome! Yeah, that movie is amazing. My favorite movie I apocalypse now.

E: Yeah that movie is cool!

R: dude… let’s leave and go ditch this paty and watch apocalypse now.

E: uhm… okay.

So we leave and we walk back to lumberjack landing. We talk a little bit, I’ obviously more excited than him. But then we hit the elevator to head up to the fourth floor.

R: This will be cool. I bet my roommate isn’t in there, He’s probably out doing rotc shit.

E: Heh, yeah. Hey you know what? I live on the third floor, I think I’m just going  to go to my room.

He hits the button for three.

R: OH. Yeah… that’s cool. Okay, yeah sweet.

E: Yeah dude, it was fun.

R: Yeah…. I guess I’ll see you around?

E: Yeah.

He leaves, and I go to my room wondering what the fuck I did wrong.

Looking back at it I may have approached the situation a little bit gayly. I mean, Emil was already anti social to begin with, I wouldn’t put it past him to believe that I was trying to bang him, but my intentions were pure of cinema. I was totally just ttying to nerd the fuck out with him. Maybe he was just not ready for that kind of commitment. Maybe he regrets it to this day.

Yeah that’s right, I was a geology major before I was a film major. I wish I started out as a film major, that would have been amazing. I wish I was that woke. Then again, I probably would have never met DION, so there is that. I would have still met NICK, and MATT, they were my sweetmates, and I probably would have still met mINa, because Matt knew Mina, and Nick stole Mina from Matt. So there was that. I always liked mina, one of the most beaautfil girls I have ever seen. She always said she found me attractive… what wasn’t I woke? Why wasn’t I sexually active aand trying to bang? I guess I never really had the confidence. Or maybe I just didn’t know who I was at the time… I meen, I was still dealing with heavy self image issues. I remember walking to class with my backwards hat on and no glasses, because I thought they made me look nerdy. But this was before I wore contacts, so I couldn’t see. Yeah that’s right, I was walking to class, not being able to see. It impacted my life a lot. I wish I had gotten contacts sooner as well. I wish I wasn’t told I just had to wear glasses. I mean one time while I was growing up  I told my mom I didn’t like the way I looked with glasses on. She said oh well and told my dad later on. I didn’t know she told my dad until I decided to try and live my life without glasses for then on. So I would try to read without glasses and I would get headaches. So I went downstairs one time and asked my dad if you get headaches from reading without glasses on, then he said yes, and your mother told me that you don’t like the way you look with glasses on. I stumpled and stuttered… Then he said I just have to get over that and there is nothing you can do about it. At the time I didn’t know I could just get contacts, so my heart was pretty broken. I seriously felt defeated because I didn’t think I would look good for my entire life. Contacts were seriously not an option at that age.

I remember one time growing up I was going through a period of fuckups and I couldn’t really see why my life was cursed so much. This was in middle school and I can’t quite remember what I did. I think this was after the time I told a kid that his mom sucked my dick. I remember like it was yesterday.

Sitting in Mr. George’s [English?] class, we were in groups, and I was in a group with the new kid I did nOT like, he was middle eastern and didn’t speak English very well, and I thought for some inexplaable reason that he was rude and …. I don’t know I just iddn’t like the kid okay? I think he just had one of those faces that you could just pick on easily. Don’t get me wrong, I totally was in the wrong just as much as him in this insistence, but still see where I was coming from. I mean here I was, a tall lanky band kid who had nobody to fit in with and was getting picked on almost everyday, mostly by other black people. And where was this kid, ill just call in Pedro, who was middle eastern and short and easy to pick on. Well we were in pairs and we got into this arhument that resorted in name calling. We had a somewhat audience, but I just had to win this name calling argument. I resroted to saying the worst thing I could thnk of: your mom sucked my dick.

He promptly got up and went over to the teacher and told on me. I was so pissed off, I was written up too. We both were actually because when he took us outside and talked about it, I was able to say that he started and… and he fucking agreed. Anyways, later that day at home I was terrified, I mena I knew I would get that phone call from the teacher. Well it happened, we had the caller id speak outloud and it was from the school. I was terrified. She picked it up and started having a semi normal conversation about me with mr. George, I even started to think ntohng would happen. Then she went to her bedroom and started discussing it. Turns out I had detention. I got introuble to say the least.

Later that night I was in my room when my dad called me downstairs and into their room. I think what happened was I told my mom that the other kid started it and I was innocent. I think she believed me, until my dad started questioning me. I was lying out of my ass when he was  questioning me. I remember he was sitting up in his bed next to mom, I was starring at the doorway. He kept on asking questions and I started getting to the point to where I would say I don’t know. Then he said if I sadi I don’t know one more time he would throw this tv remote at my head. At that point I panicked and told them everything. I told him... “his mom sucked my dick”. My dad got piseed. He told me I would be lucky if he didn’t bring a gun t oschool the next day to shoot me. This is why people die in schools. I was mortified. I think he punched me in the chest too, but I was used to that the words stayed with mee longer.

The next days of afterschool detention wernt that bad. I hung out in mr. georges room with pedro. We kinda… became friends after that. It was… werid.

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I sat alone in the corner of the Doshi House. My eyes wandered. Ciggerette burns in my clothes. I watch as people come in and out. This world is jaded, not me. It’s funny how we lie to ourself, to determine what’s right and wrong… We never except critiscm… never deny praise. I sat back and read what  Iwrote… what gives me the right? People always told me I stood out. I have a nice face.  This one man calls me slim, I believe him. When I look at myself in the mirror all I see is a stick figure, stalking along the boulevard of insecurity and fasle security. So I drink. Hold your judgments at the door though, if you want to fix me I won’t listen to you. I will spare you the time and effort: I don’t care. At least that’s what I’ll tell you. Regardless of what you say to me you will never get past my blank face, my curly eyelashes, my small nose… Obssessed is definitely the right word for it…

My father just called me, but the usual contempt and fear wasn’t there. He has definitely changed since him and my mom split up. Heh, it’s funny how that happens. He’s become a lot more laid back, not so stressed. Maybe my mother was as much to blame for my insecurity as my father was. I won’t say that I have a priviledged life, but I definitely don’t feel llike im on my own anymore. It’s weird having your father in your life, as a friend, but I can’t shake the feeling that I want him to be proud of me. Yeah I know I know, that’s a normal feeling to have towards your father. But I never really acknowledged that until he started helping me and understanding me instead of pissing me off, yelling at me, taking hhis anger out on me, making me fear him to a point where I run hide in my room if he was home. Now that I moved out the strain has lessened…. But the money strain is forreal. I still don’t like him giving me money. I think it goes beyond being my own man. I don’t like my money me tracked. Regardless, there are still emotional issues I need to work out with him that I don’t think I can do. I don’t think I possess the emotionial courage and depth to speak up about theses issues, and I don’t think he does either. I did go to counceling about him. It actually temporaily saved my ass. But that’s a different story, a story of addiction and unfortunate circumstances.

I wish I had crazy college stories. I mean I do, but not the steryotypical ones. Let me try and dig some up. Lets start with freshman year:

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Turbulence. It’s whatever waves are inside my head. I can feel the pounding of the drums, the shaking of the cantinas. I want to speak clearly as to not be spoken of. The feelings of loss and regret, hungry and remorse, tears through the vines of euphorium salute to the praises of the gods. The fear is engrossed in the minds of men, and through laughter it retreats to the southern peninsula. This is where I stand, alone, uninvited, unfulfilled, uninebered.

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I sat alone in the corner of the Doshi House. My eyes wandered. Ciggerette burns in my clothes. I watch as people come in and out. This world is jaded, not me. It’s funny how we lie to ourself, to determine what’s right and wrong… We never except critiscm… never deny praise. I sat back and read what  Iwrote… what gives me the right? People always told me I stood out. I have a nice face.  This one man calls me slim, I believe him. When I look at myself in the mirror all I see is a stick figure, stalking along the boulevard of insecurity and fasle security. So I drink. Hold your judgments at the door though, if you want to fix me I won’t listen to you. I will spare you the time and effort: I don’t care. At least that’s what I’ll tell you. Regardless of what you say to me you will never get past my blank face, my curly eyelashes, my small nose… Obssessed is definitely the right word for it…

My father just called me, but the usual contempt and fear wasn’t there. He has definitely changed since him and my mom split up. Heh, it���s funny how that happens. He’s become a lot more laid back, not so stressed. Maybe my mother was as much to blame for my insecurity as my father was. I won’t say that I have a priviledged life, but I definitely don’t feel llike im on my own anymore. It’s weird having your father in your life, as a friend, but I can’t shake the feeling that I want him to be proud of me. Yeah I know I know, that’s a normal feeling to have towards your father. But I never really acknowledged that until he started helping me and understanding me instead of pissing me off, yelling at me, taking hhis anger out on me, making me fear him to a point where I run hide in my room if he was home. Now that I moved out the strain has lessened…. But the money strain is forreal. I still don’t like him giving me money. I think it goes beyond being my own man. I don’t like my money me tracked. Regardless, there are still emotional issues I need to work out with him that I don’t think I can do. I don’t think I possess the emotionial courage and depth to speak up about theses issues, and I don’t think he does either. I did go to counceling about him. It actually temporaily saved my ass. But that’s a different story, a story of

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But now I sit and wiat for my life to happen. Like I don’t think I have any control or something. How naïve am I? How can I do this to myself? How do I live with myself? I should feel ashamed… Jordon asked me what I am trippin about…. I really don’t know! Maybe it actually is loneliness. Im scared for my future too. I’m scared, so scared…. What if I don’t graduate because I run out of student loans? What If I fuck it all up again? What if I run out of money? What if I am not able to pay rent? What does life have in store for me, how should I know? Then again, some people seem to know where there life is taking them. Well from the looks of it, mine isn’t going anywhere, I can’t even get out of the house! I mostly just sit around make rude comment anonomously. What gives me the right? The only times I am happy is when I am dreaming about my future wife… Man that must be nie. But I have to stop feeling sorry for myself. I have to “chill out”. But am I not allowed to feel the way I feel? No because it makes other peole feel bad. I have to bottle up my feelings in order for everybody else to be happy. That’s how it is right? Nobody wants to hear what’s wrong. Nobody even hits me up, says whats up…. Im pathetic. I’m such a loser. Im a nobody to everybody. Everybody looks down upon me. Nobody knows me. I don’t allow anybody to know me. I don’t want anybody to know me… But it’s all so easy right? It’s just all so easy…. Just hit the gym. Just put yourself out there. Be social. It’s all so easy…. But why can’t I do it? Is it because I am weak? I think that’s it. I’m weak. I am a weak human. But couldn’t being weak just be a symptom of our culture’s focus on masculinity? Or is that just an excuse because I am weak? God I am just rambling now… I wonder if I will ever read this again…. Probably not. I wonder if anybody is going to read this…. Probably not. I mean, to write something down is for the purpose of being read, right? Who would read my text? Wht type of person would put up with me, find me interesting enough to look at this post and read this text? God I hate my self pitying self. I’m so pathetic. More whining huh. It must be getting boring to read. Boring to write. Boring to live. Boring boring boring. Everybody just wants their entertainment… well I’ll give it to them. One day peole will take me seriously. One day.

m��D

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It’s so easy to just do nothing. How do people do things? How do people not look back at their life and just feel regret? Some people just naturally have a social life, they surround themselves with people somehow and make it work. They appear to be happy when “hanging out” or “getting to know people”, but what they are really do is just sacrificing their own self worth for the sake of being accepted. They fit in. They are likable. They have things that attract other people. What do I have? Well to me I don’t have any of that. I have this obsession that I have a beautiful face, but everything else about me is shit. I’m a jaded sarcastic asshole who can’t stand to be around other people. How can I make it out in the world? I talk so much game but end up doing nothing. I’m so distracted by drugs and alcohol, I feel like I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop, I don’t know how to get help. I am not even sure I need help, but then again I do spend so much money on it. It’s what I spend money on the most. The question is, how I live with myself, knowing all I am doing is harming myself? Am I being too hard on my self or do I have depression? Who do I talk to? I can’t talk to my brother about, that would be too weird. I can’t talk to my father or mother or sister about it… that would be too difficult. I don’t have any clothes friends to talk to it about, and when I did It did not work out at all. What would I be looking for?I remember a time I had to talk to davion about me being kicked out of school. I love calling it that by the way, getting “kicked out”. Bitch I got suspended. I also hate that word, bitch. It’s terrible. I don’t even like saying the word nigga. But anyways, I got kicked out and called davion, because he was in California at that point, and tried to pretend to be relieve or not caring. Well… that wouldn’t be the best way to describe it. Something like a mixture between joking and “don’t do what I did”. I think I was using this demor to show davion that I was beign to be okay. I mean I had to tell him and I guess I didn’t want him to worry about me, and I think it worked. But the reality is, he should be more worried than ever. I’m going down a dark path and I don’t know where it’s going to lead. I whispers sometimes at night rememding me that they’re not going away… the lies, the corrupt world view. The jadedness. Sometimes I do believe in god. Sometimes I cry when I think of god. Why?

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Everything is in constant strain between life and existential death

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I have decided to write a blog post that means a lot to me, probably would describe it as meaning the most too me, and that is: boredom. Everything that I do  I seen to get bored with. I’s like i haave no passion, no ambition, no drive. Does that make me a bad person? Does that make me stupid? I mean everywhere I look it’s things telling me to never stop chasing my goals, dont let things get in the way of acheiving your goals, and yet I feel like... its all pointless. I mean, c’mon what’s the point of achieving your goals? you’re just going to want to make new ones after that. Is the oint to rise professionally? Economically? Maybe the point is to be happy? But it’s all... temporary. What about being happy now? What if i said that only reason we have an ambitious “sidequest” is because we live in America? I mean yeah a lot of other places have the “fulfill your dreams” approach to lviing, but is that the only way/?I feel like it is that way because of how our economy is set up. I mean think aabout it, the only reason that the discourse is relative to ambition is because of money. When you chase your dreaams, you buy more stuff. You give back to the economy, knowing full well that you’re not gioinig to be able to achieve whatever bullshit dream you have. I mean c’mon, isn’t it obvious? I know i sound like a ass when i say it, but i’d rather just do whatever i want. I also feel like there is another pressure on me because i am black. Black people can’t afford to be lazy. If you arn’t “constantly on your grind” you will be looked at weird. I am not saying that is bad for black people, but i am saying thta it just feed s into a system that constantly undermines us and continues to imprison us. So why don’t i just leave? Why don’t i just get on a plane to somewhere iwhere i wont feel that pressure? Well, there is pressure everywhere my friend (you), and you can’t escape it. Maybe im not trying hard enough, my i dont want to try hard. Maybe i am complacent. Maybe. Maybe. But why don’t i care? Is it because of drugs and alcohol? Am i using the confort of drugs to make me feel this way? Or maybe the reason they tell you nolt to do drugs is because it stops you from feeding into the captilaist system? I mean, in some ways you are, but if it wasn’t for drugs i probably wouldnt be so skeptical. SO what’s the alternative, not be skeptical? Just accept everything? I guest some would say i am aready doing that... Whoose right? Who is wrong?

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Sitting in class like what is this

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I woke up to niggas talkin like me

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What am i staring at?

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Im just obsessed with myself i guess

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Im trying to get a bunch of likes for this dope ass instagram selfie. I feel like im just trying to reassure myself, trying to tell myself that im doing okay and to keep doing what im doing, but i know that im not. I know im just wasting time, avoiding the root of my problems, filling the gaps in my life with complacency. I mean other people can do it and live merry lives, why cant i? Why cant i be oblivious to the obvious? Why can't i do anything about it? I guess that's just addiction talking.

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I think men made the idea to hold a door open for a woman a thing because they like to look at their butts.

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At work like what is this