Those moments where you open your heart to someone and you kinda forget about the world for a second. It hurts, but helps.
Am I the only person who would much prefer hanging out with a solid group of 2-4 friends instead of going out to a party or something?
The irony of those situations is they feel less social if anything.
It’s like one of those questions, which would you prefer, one best friend or 20 acquaintances?
Either that or I just feel too grown up to be spending my time out drinking with people I don’t care about seeing when I could be home and continuously pushing my portfolio as I have been.
It’s been a hell of a 6 years.
I got through high school.
Fought through my mind and am still keeping up the battle, except much better than ever before.
Have pushed my interests and gained myself a footing in places for the future.
I had my first love and lost her too.
I have an assortment of friends that I’m happy with.
I have a job and have my own place.
-
I may not be 100% yet, grandpa. But believe me, I’m trying. I’m searching through my life. I’m young. It’s my birthday in a few weeks. I still miss you. I wish I could just see you and talk to you for a day. You’d have my advice. And if you didn’t, you’d at least make me feel proud of everything I’ve done.
Honestly, it amazes me at times. The love one person has for you. The love multiple people HAVE for you. My mom. Me. My family. We miss you. You were our heart. The way you died was fucking terrible. The way I left you, I can still never forgive myself for it. I know you don’t care. I really do. I know that even if my beliefs are wrong and you are up there looking down on me, you’d be proud of me. You’d be proud of what I’ve had. You’d be proud of how hard I fought for stuff that I may have lost. You’d be proud at how much dedication I put towards something I want. You’d just be proud.
What do I do from here though? How do I keep going? I’ve had so many breaking points that even I’m amazed I struggled through them in working order. What would you tell me to do? There have been so many nights that I’ve just tried to piece together your voice enough to give me advice. I’m always the advice-giver, never the taker.
Here I am. Six years later. A totally new person. An aware person. Still writing to you. Am I crazy? I think so. Why do I even do this? I don’t know. The more goals I complete, the more I look to you to help me out. What would you be telling me? Keep chasing after the girl I’m falling helplessly for? Focus on my internship? Save up more money? Go out and be carefree for a bit? Hunker down and keep myself intact? Or would you tell me to do what I feel is right? Because I’ve been doing that all along and it seems to be doing well.
I love you and miss you, grandpa. Life hasn’t been as easy without you. Believe me. If I ever grow to have a family look up to me just as much as you, I think every problem I’ve ever had would go away. You have really accomplished yourself. You left behind a grandson who hasn’t given up. Who won’t give up. Just you wait. I’ll prove myself.
I wonder
What does someone who is committing suicide think before they ultimately commit it?
Are they at peace?
Are they desperate for darkness? For silence?
Do they think about the happy times? Or about the bad?
What about someone who passes naturally?
Do they regret their mistakes?
Are they listening as hard as they can to their loved ones?
Are they wanting another chance?
Are they supporting us?
Are they missing us?
Just one of those nights where I need an ear to talk to but everyone’s sleeping.
It’s funny. My biological dad contacts me for the first time ever only a few days after my almost 4 year relationship ended and only a few weeks after I had reconnected with my mom. At first, I didn’t care. I don’t know who he is. He’s never been a part of my family or my life. While my step-dad has been there for me, I just don’t think I can ever see him as a father figure towards me. Too many differences.
After talking to my dad for the first time, he connected me with my older sister, older brother, and younger brother. My oldest sister is awesome. She checks on me often and likes to hear about my life. My cousin is quite awesome as well. When I had told her the awkward timing of their debut into my life, she simply told me: “It’s okay, cuz, we’ve got your back now.” That’s never something I’ve heard before, and honestly, honestly, I think that’s one of the few factors as to what got me past my ex a lot easier than it should’ve been.
I had an older sister, but she committed suicide Thanksgiving of last year. My dad told me that it hurt him a lot (on top of my oldest brother getting stabbed not too long ago) and that he didn’t want to go through life not knowing about me. My sister told me that she was amazing and she would’ve loved me. Interesting how that goes. I was in El Paso, dealing with more than anyone of you would’ve ever realized and someone who could’ve been super important in my life was gone, and I didn’t even know she existed. According to them, they had searched for me online (which is strange, seeing as I’m not that difficult to track down, but I digress) and that they, and her, really wanted to hear from me. Does it make me a bad person to think I might’ve dodged a bullet? If my sister and I had gotten close, and she went over the edge, what would’ve happened to me? I pride myself in thinking I’ve gotten through barriers on my own, but could I take such a loss when one loss a few years ago still plagues my life? I still wish I could’ve met her.
To roll back a little, I wonder if my dad said he wanted to connect to me through his own guilt or through genuine support. My sister doesn’t support his actions. My youngest brother is with him often though. I don’t know. He invited me to stay with him for Thanksgiving for “a few days or weeks.” Being that I own my own place now and will be busy Black Friday shopping with friends, I just don’t think I have much time for someone who is essentially a stranger in my life.
Not to mention, I’m another black sheep. My brothers are total opposites of me, as is everyone else. Smoke. Drink. Party. My sisters here are actually growing up a lot like me, which surprised me right away when I got back. My middle sister has a lot of interests as I do and tends to keep to herself and quiet. My youngest sister likes a lot of what I do and is super rebellious in her own way. I can talk to them now. Give them pep talks. It’s something I remember laying the foundation for before I moved. I told my sister about the trials and tribulations of high school with how friends come and go. She seems to have went along with it in surprising fashion. I don’t know if I want to enter another family just to be so different. I hate and love being so different. It gives people something to wonder about me, but finding the right compatible people can be annoying, to say the least.
To wrap up this whole rant, the above video speaks a lot to me. Not only is it just super sad, to people with their dads and to the many that haven’t had a dad, but it’s true what he says. I want to be a father. I want to be a rad father who will have kids who won’t understand this video as much as I did. Being responsible, being who I am, in the place I live WITHOUT a kid isn’t just because I’m super responsible with that stuff, but I’m aiming to have kids in the perfect circumstance that’ll mean they will live an incredible life. And when my time comes, they’ll not only have a little bit of me with them, but that they’ll have their own knowledge as to how to go about life because of what their mother and father taught them.
It’s not a sad matter of how my dad didn’t want me. The saddest part about my father is that his kids are so broken apart that me, the middle brother, was absent from all of their lives and had a warped twisted sense of his father. The saddest part is that his daughter wouldn’t live a flourished life and that I missed her. The saddest part is that I have moved on and have used him as a point to improve upon. Maybe it’s for the best I developed myself into this. Maybe I could’ve been a happier person had he been in my life. Who knows? I have no qualms with meeting him. It’ll happen. I just don’t know if him not wanting me was something to cry about or something to be proud about.
…
I’ve written three songs over the last week.
I’m either:
A) Listening to The Downward Spiral and One X too much.
B) Really digging deep for some maniacal lyrics.
C) Am losing my sanity.
D) Am in desperate need of an ear.
These songs are really dark. Especially the two closing tracks. Granted, I’ve been working on a concept album, but still. Hopefully no one random happens to looks at my notepad. They’ll probably freak out. I guess I’m glad to have finally churned out something.
Sleeping on this decision. I don’t have the fight in me anymore, but maybe I can push for a few more days before I burn that bridge. Why? Why are you making this so hard on my life? Fucking fuck.
I fucking hate this song with a passion because it hits way too close to home. This album really hits me hard, but I love it in that retrospect too. Listening to any of the songs on Dear Agony is like looking into a diary for 2009. 2009 was easily my worst year in terms of how I handled everything. I had a few ups, but way too many slip-ups. A few people helped me and I thank them for that. This album came at the perfect/worst time. I will always enjoy it though. It was a stepping stone in my life that I’ll always be proud of pushing through.
“Now you wanna take me down,
As if I even care,
I am the monster in your head,
And I thought you’d learn by now,
It seems you haven’t yet,
I am the venom in your skin,
And now your life…
Is broken.”
(Source: Spotify)
Some would say
Pain and suffering is the easiest way to pump out quality material.
This is my honesty hour. I have no one to vent to, so take it or leave it.
Pain and suffering. Is that what I need to go through? I sit here in my quiet room, wondering just that. Do I need to reach into my dark place again? I’ve climbed so hard to get on top of this mountain. I’ve endure so much. Yet here I am. I’m happy, yet missing something. And that something is killing me. Is that missing thing true happiness? I don’t know. Maybe it’s still not completing my work. Maybe it’s the monotony. Maybe it’s not having a loved one in my life. I have two friends I can confide with my entire world. One’s closing me off at the moment, the other has more life issues than ever, and I’d hate to pile more on him. So here I am, fending for myself. From what? I have no idea. I’m letting my dark thoughts creep in for a few reasons. To keep my realism attitude in check. To always have that barrier. To keep my creativity. I don’t think I can do it though. I can’t live in the middle. I’m either in the hole or up on top. I genuinely like to fight my own battles, or so I thought.
Keeping busy keeps me happy. Doing nothing makes every thought roll into my head. I can’t fucking do that. Yet, as I’ve been letting those cold thoughts in, I’ve been furthering my works more than usually. Is it worth it? The past. The thoughts. Alone, is it worth risking going back for a few songs or pages of text? I said this before, but my blood, sweat, and tears go into my work. That’s why it’s never truly published. Like this, only bits and pieces I can confide in the public. Only a few have read my drafts, and those few are the type that I can confide with personally.
Crossroads. Guidance is what I need. But during a time when everyone’s fighting their own battles and not able to lend me time, it seems I have to do what I do best. Fight it on my own, figure out my path, and trek through the tundra of my thoughts to make my writings flow.
I love the internet, but I also hate it because if I ever ran for president, my opponents would have a field day with all of the things I’ve done and posted.
