Scary White Monster

In my window.
On the ground.
I don't recognize you.
Maybe Zach was right. I find that kid is right sometimes. I wish he'd talk to me, not because I'm in love with him [which I am] but because I like the stuff he says. I like the way he says something. I like the way he says the opposite of that something eventually, like the first one never happened.
I like people more than I used to, but I don't know if that's good. Reading through my old stuff, it's easy to tell I didn't care about specific people really. I sure there were instances when I cared about nobody. That seems inhuman, as if hearts are slots to be filled with a pair of eyes. But it wasn't inhuman... Because what replaced those eyes and lips I saw talking, what I saw instead (or wanted to?) was all of humanity, as this big, bright, beautiful girl in front of me to love. To understand. I used to be in love with humanity. The best thing about humanity is that it consistently lets you down. You know people are evil; they are going to buy guns and shoot their sisters. They are going to steal from convenience stores. I don't need to tell you that. But when you fall in love with a person, you forget that they're human sometimes. You trust them unconsciously, and then they go on and buy a gun and shoot you in the foot. You forgot. It slipped.
It's like this:
I'm looking out a new window. I was so used to my old one. It brings back such great memories: Shakespeare on tape, Hiroshima blasting to the night, bad piano to the neighbors, hearing my car get egged. I left it open, and it would rain and stink and rot. So great. I saw the car out the window. Fuck Fuck I miss That.
I miss it so much.
This is a new window. I see construction, and I can't do half the things I'd like because it's only half my room. I can't wait until I live in Australia in less than two years. I cannot wait.
But I don't want to speculate on the beauty of the future.
I'm trying to find who I need to be in this moment, and this is really hard.
I've come a long way, but is it good?
I used to be able to occupy my time with literature and thoughts and the sense of being alone. I remember when I craved being alone. I would wait until my mother left in the mornings, my father, and I'd be alone. I'd have the best day, just there in the house, by myself. It was an adventure to just walk to the park alone. I think the things you think are so great become greater still if you never surpass them. Should we just keep our lives at a subdued hue of blue forever? Never go past, never reach past, into the sky? Is it safer to just live in sadness?
Much safer.
When you're sad, no one can hurt you.
[I miss privacy.]
NOTHING GOOD
CAN COME
FROM
THIS
MIND.
I'm trying to find that part of me again. The part that isn't defined by anyone or anything. The part of me that finds wonder in rocks, finds words in nothing. The part that made me me. That made me love myself. Now I see myself: what have I become?
I learned to depend on people.
Depend.
What an awful word.
I don't want to need anybody.
I don't need to want anybody.
I have me, and I am beautiful.
I am beautiful because I am trying.
I am trying.
Trying to what?
Trying to find those words again, make the connections.
This makes me miss Coach L. so much. I don't know why, but he is a tragic figure. I'd love to talk to him one day. But I won't think about the future. I'm thinking about now.
And I know what it is I'm doing, even if you don't.
All I'm really doing is trying to find a way to make it through today. So if I don't say anything tomorrow, it's because I found another way. If I do, then you'll know why I'm back. It's not embarrassing. Everyone has a way of coping with somebody and something, right?
1) Don't mention the problem. Run away from it at all costs.
2) Develop new problems that cannot be solved, instead of actually fixing something.
3) Wait.
4) When you're done with that, stop thinking about anything real. Anything you can see... Don't think...
5) Wait.
6) Forever.

How I've found it, in past. A part of me wants nothing more than to sleep. My heart aches at the thought of it. I don't let myself sleep mid-day. No, I'm not [forgotten.] Do I love myself, or do I just love other people? What, is it better to love others before yourself? No, I think not. The love I gave so freely to the new people I found: It came from what I had building for years. Now it's gone, and I've neglected myself. Just like I promised Zach we'd work on love, I have to do it for myself. Because I'm able to love other people quite easily, if it's the right person, but loving myself is harder. I like myself. But I don't know if I respect myself now. It would only be right to promise myself that. Before I go home for the summer... I'm waiting, love. You may not care, but I do.
What an awful thing, to care.
So cruel.
It obliges both parties to make an awkward shift, to make an awkward smile. And in one, it cannot go away, in one it cannot appear.
I'm so sick of what I've become.
I miss not trying to have friends.
I miss having shitty expectations, because then no one could ever let me down.
[Back here?]
I am lowering them.
That's it.
I will never make any friends in anything I do.
I'm just doing things for me, and when I feel like it, something will change.
Let's try it?
TRY.
FUCK!

Nothing I think anymore
has value.
It's all shit.
What happened?
This happened once before, I got over it. Let's do it. I need sorrow and loneliness to be brilliant, and I have both right now. Let's put them to good use and live them out instead of casting them away. Good can come from loneliness. I've known it.