So it’s been about two, three months now? Since I moved out of dads. And I think I have finally adjusted to my new surroundings. The street I currently live on, feels like it’s come out of some Hollywood picture perfect sort of film. Like the Truman Show or something. I have always lived in a nice upper middle class neighbourhood (if that makes sense) but I have never seen a community so close and friendly with each other.
As I helped my friends dad (better father figure than my real father hands down) with the weeding, I began to mull over the current situation and my surroundings in my head. As we pulled the weeds out, we discussed the origins of mead in medieval times, and other various aspects of medieval times. Such as architecture, gender roles, beer brewing etc. And as this was going on, the neighbours children were outside playing, and upon seeing us pulling the weeks walked over and started to help us. I felt perplexed. Here we were having a typical Saturday doing your average family sort of thing. The kids were telling us stories, and the boy was talking to me about soccer.
I looked around at the perfectly mowed lawns and trimmed hedges. The shiny polished cars, and other happy kids playing in their yards amongst themselves and the parents getting involved. I couldn’t help but wonder what growing up in this environment (from day one) would of been like. It wasn’t long before the kids father came over and said hi, then took his son back to their yard and started playing soccer with him. As I mentioned earlier on, the boy (was about eight) was talking to me about soccer. He was very proud because he made it into some special soccer league, and was within the top five for his age group at school. Every afternoon after school, I hear him and his dad playing soccer together. I watched them kick the ball together, and listened to his father giving him tips on how to be the best. I thought back to when I was around his age, and how much I liked soccer. Then I remember all those weekends I spent kicking the ball against the wall by myself, because father didn’t want or have time, and mum was busy doing the house work after a full week at work. I remember being out there all day on the weekends, because I was trying to get better for try outs for the team. I never made it into the team of course.
The thing that really gets to me, is my friends parents are trying so hard to get me involved, to make me feel like I belong. But whenever I feel like I do or they try and have a parental sort of conversation with me, I just feel completely out of place, like I don’t belong here. Take tomorrow (well actually today) for instance. It’s Easter. And they are going to a friends for dinner and we are all expected to attend. I feel weird about going. What are there friends going to say about me? What are they going to ask me? How are they going to explain my presence there? They also want to take me to dads tomorrow to say hi. I don’t want to go. And they are in the process of organising my enrolment back into high school. I appreciate all the effort and it does make me feel good, but some how it just reminds how this isn’t truly my place. My family. Maybe it is a little too late.
It’s 2am, and I can’t think clearly. The memories of you are just running through my mind. I think back to the time when you were around, and while everything was far from perfect… At least I had you. I think of you everyday, but not properly. I remember things, I remember you. But it’s like I block out all the feelings that come along with those memories. Why? Because you were my everything. Because despite everything else, all that matter was when I held you in my arms. The world could be falling apart around me, and as long as I had you; I knew I’d be okay. Because with all that love, all that happiness you brought me, I now have emptiness. It’s something so hard to describe. And tonight, it’s all coming through. All this time blocking out how I feel. And I can’t breathe. My chest feels tight. I try to take a deep breath but I physically can’t. And my heart, it hurts. It feels like something has wrapped its hands around it, and is squeezing as hard as it can. As I lay here in bed, I wonder… Do you think of me? Do you remember? Like I remember? Because when I think about you with someone else, I can’t comprehend it. I try to tell myself you are happy, and that’s what matters. All I want is what’s best for you, but it hurts so much knowing you aren’t with me. It’s my fault I know, and that’s what makes it worse.
The pillow you use to lay your head on, I still keep in my bed. Every night when I go to sleep, I place it next to me. But since it’s been so long, your scent from your pillow is gone. Just another fading memory, I’m so desperately trying to hold onto. Where are you? I hope you are well. Me? I’m not doing so great. I need you so badly, and right now I’m so alone. But I guess that’s my fault too. No one else is worth my time now you’re gone. I have nothing to say to anyone unless it’s about you. And even when I talk about you what’s the point? It can’t be fixed, and I still don’t know anyone who truly understands how I feel. My bed is empty, I’m struggling to carry on. I keep staring at the photos but they just remind me you are gone. And it’s so hard tonight, I can’t keep it all in. I don’t know where to turn, I don’t know who to talk to. I just wish you were here, I hope you know I will always love you.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I moved out of my dads. It’s been quite strange at times, not having to worry about him bothering me. I’m slowly adjusting to “normal” life. Today my friends parents took me shopping. For clothes and furniture for my room. And as I looked out and saw other families, I noticed little differences. People smiling at us, the occasional chat with complete strangers in the lift. Then I sort of took a step back, and realised what we must look like to the rest of the world. The comparison between going shopping with them, and if I was with my father.
Not only is my father a lazy prick, he doesn’t smile or talk with strangers. He isn’t overly polite. He’s just arrogant and selfish, thinks he’s better than the rest. When my father and I go shopping it’s forced, he rather pay someone money to take me shopping for the things I need. And when he can’t find someone to do it and has to come with me it’s so awkward. I think people can see that. I use to walk around with him and see all those people that were in the shopping centre with their parents and think “I wonder what that’s like.” And you know what? Today I found out.
To the rest of the world we are just another happy family spending our weekend shopping. I couldn’t help but look around and smile like an idiot. In my brief moment of happiness, it crept up on me. This really isn’t my family (as much as I’d like them to be, these are the people who were friends with my mum). Do I just look like some kid they felt sorry for and decided to bring along to the shops? And then I started to analyse everything. This environment, so happy and relaxed… I felt uneasy in it. Part of me feels like I don’t belong, maybe because I’m so use to putting up with my father.
What seems to bother me the most, is instead of enjoying my new found freedom and acceptance, I’m questioning it. I’m feeling uncomfortable by it. I wonder why this is the case?
So lately, I seem to be having a lot of bad luck. Not only have I been getting sick more often, but it’s starting to get more serious each time. Lady Luck isn’t in my side at all. So apart from something being wrong with my insides, tonight I discovered a very small (about 5 cent piece small, actually probably smaller) bald patch. I am too young for this (turning 21 is still quite a while away…). But I am a little worried, hoping it’s nothing serious.
So currently I am waiting for Felix Baumgartner to attempt his leap from 37 kilometres above ground. Hopefully all goes well for him.
Sometimes I wonder how I get myself into certain situations. Actually what I wonder even more is how I think half of the situations are a good idea even before things go bad. The reason I am rambling about all of this is because a day ago I decided that drinking at my ex girlfriends house alone while her parents were away on holidays was a good idea. I’m not sure why, but I am still feeling terribly anxious after spending the night with her. Even though we slept in separate beds, and nothing much happened… Maybe I feel uneasy because she’s my ex girlfriend.
Sleep eludes me, and my minds running wild. I need a distraction.
I’m getting less slack with posts. Maybe. I have noticed they have changed the way the wordpress home page looks like. I like it 🙂
Anyway, it’s almost 4am and I can’t sleep. Sitting in my room alone, I realise that I am craving human attention. Particularly female attention (not in a sexual way, actually wouldn’t mind that kind of female attention but that’s not what I mean). Lately it seems (even after my extensive thing with Carol which I can’t remember if I have explained) that even though I’m spending more time with girls, I seem to be talking less to them. So what does any person at 4am in the morning do when they are craving human, particularly female interaction? Turn to the internet. Not only does this make me feel a little sad, but then half way through responding to a message I realise… I have no idea what to say to a girl.
I just am not very good at talking over messages. Talking in person I’m great, even talking over the phone I’m pretty good. But when it comes to messaging I am completely and totally awkward. So much so, that I have resorted to talking about the weather and time differences. Poor girl, she’s probably hoping I don’t reply. Actually I don’t think she is going to reply. Oh, I am pleasantly surprised. Oh yeah Zach, use the word frolic in a sentence. Because that’s completely normal. Ah who am I kidding. Like I said, completely lost for words.
So Carol. Things got good between us, really good. We were spending lots of time together, always texting, always hanging out. She seemed to like the idea of us having sex a lot more than I thought she would. And for a while things got great, so much so that I decided to ask her out. And that’s where my mistake was. Shot down, in a second. She was shocked to realise I liked her enough to want to date her. And that I was a good friend and she didn’t wanna loose me as a friend. They way she acted, she acted more like a girlfriend than a friend. Wow, stuck in the friend zone even while I was fucking her. How the fuck did I manage that?
Not really sure where to go from here, too embarrassed to talk to her, and too tired to get into this post anymore. My bed is calling my name!
1940s to mid 1950s. Currently very curious and interesed in this time frame. Now I am not the kind of person that knows too much about this time frame, only thing that I know about it is that back in those days there was some kind of war, NASA wasn’t even formed yet (NACA was instead) and sputnik hadn’t even been launched yet and the first “all purpose” computer was realised in 1946 (ENIAC). All that being said, the limit in technology back in those days would be like a horror movie for me. Oh and Italian gangsters come to mind, like Al Capone but I don’t know when he was around.
But that’s not what is interesting me, no it’s the lifestyle. Now seeing I was no where near alive, hell my parents were probably not even around back then, my knowledge on this time frame is mainly based on movies and various searches on the internet. But what I think is this: life seemed to be a lot more simpler back then. Now I could be completely wrong, but that’s just my interpretation. I have been thinking about writing a blog about this for a while, but I am not 100% sure how to put my thoughts into words. The world seemed more innocent then, life was different.
The one thing that gets me the most though, is the women were so different back then! Don’t get me wrong, show me some slutty chick wearing next to nothing and you have my undivided attention; I’d probably do backflips just to get into bed with her. But that’s not the kind of girl you want to have a relationship with! But back then it seems like women were more refined, you met a nice girl got married and started your life together. If there was a problem with your marriage you tried to fix it not get a divorce.
I don’t know, there is just something nice about the thought of going to work everyday then coming home to your wife waiting for you with dinner on the table, asking you how your day was. I know this can happen in our world today, but something about the attitudes and ideology back then are different. Something you can’t find today.
Like I mentioned before, I am not really sure how to put this all into words. Maybe I’m thinking like this because of my new found views on what I might want or what appeals to me currently in life. I don’t know. Just something that’s been on my mind lately.