ruminations in the early morn
I miss being touched. I miss human contact. Touch for the sake of touch, not sex, you perverts. I wish I had someone to hold my hand and tell me that everything will be okay. I miss having someone sit next to me and not say a single thing but to just enjoy each other's presence.
I miss being me. I don't know if I've ever been me. I don't think I really should be blogging now, since I'm not quite myself now. Ah, whatever. Fuck it.
Whenever I read through the weekly secrets at Postsecret I always feel the urge to send in a secret of my own. Or two. Or three. Or all. Gives me the illusion that someone's listening - really listening to me - without any judgment whatsoever.
I drunk more than I've ever drunk in my life last night, and I woke up without a hangover. A little under halfway through, I knew I shouldn't have drunk so much and that I should have just stopped, but I figured that since I don't have anything else to wake up to the next day, I might as well see how far I can go - fairly nascent drinker with a mild allergy to alcohol to boot - before I started finding every little thing to be an absolute riot. Turns out it's a little more than 13 martinis. Best part? She paid for it all. LOL. Being able not to think about things (in more ways than one) was worth the rashes, really. I should do it more often.
Sometimes I wonder if people actually care for others. Maybe we're really all just little islands of algae in this great big pond, occasionally brushing and hooking up, till a ripple comes along and well, ripples things. Perhaps we do, but we don't have the time, or know how to express so. Everything gets in the way, doesn't it? As I say to my close friends, real life is too real. Personal desires and urges, a want/need to spend time with the other half, other friends, church, jobs... it's hard to know where you fit in within your circle of friends at times.
I think I'm all alone here. I don't really know if there's anyone who'll listen to me. It's just so... impossible. Maybe it's just the sheer weight of everything that's happened in the last few days that's getting to me. I don't know if I am alone. Sometimes I think I am. I was, last night. Seemed like there wasn't anyone who was there anyway. You three were, somehow; yet not really. I don't know how to describe it. There, but not. I'm not pointing fingers, so don't get me wrong. I still love the three of you insanely. I am only human after all, and everything adds up, and maybe now I'm buckling. It's analogical to the barber riddle: in a one-barber town where everyone shaves their head at the barber's, who shaves the barber's head?
Who helps the one who helps?
Who's there when you want someone to be there?
I miss being me. I don't know if I've ever been me. I don't think I really should be blogging now, since I'm not quite myself now. Ah, whatever. Fuck it.
Whenever I read through the weekly secrets at Postsecret I always feel the urge to send in a secret of my own. Or two. Or three. Or all. Gives me the illusion that someone's listening - really listening to me - without any judgment whatsoever.
I drunk more than I've ever drunk in my life last night, and I woke up without a hangover. A little under halfway through, I knew I shouldn't have drunk so much and that I should have just stopped, but I figured that since I don't have anything else to wake up to the next day, I might as well see how far I can go - fairly nascent drinker with a mild allergy to alcohol to boot - before I started finding every little thing to be an absolute riot. Turns out it's a little more than 13 martinis. Best part? She paid for it all. LOL. Being able not to think about things (in more ways than one) was worth the rashes, really. I should do it more often.
Sometimes I wonder if people actually care for others. Maybe we're really all just little islands of algae in this great big pond, occasionally brushing and hooking up, till a ripple comes along and well, ripples things. Perhaps we do, but we don't have the time, or know how to express so. Everything gets in the way, doesn't it? As I say to my close friends, real life is too real. Personal desires and urges, a want/need to spend time with the other half, other friends, church, jobs... it's hard to know where you fit in within your circle of friends at times.
I think I'm all alone here. I don't really know if there's anyone who'll listen to me. It's just so... impossible. Maybe it's just the sheer weight of everything that's happened in the last few days that's getting to me. I don't know if I am alone. Sometimes I think I am. I was, last night. Seemed like there wasn't anyone who was there anyway. You three were, somehow; yet not really. I don't know how to describe it. There, but not. I'm not pointing fingers, so don't get me wrong. I still love the three of you insanely. I am only human after all, and everything adds up, and maybe now I'm buckling. It's analogical to the barber riddle: in a one-barber town where everyone shaves their head at the barber's, who shaves the barber's head?
Who helps the one who helps?
Who's there when you want someone to be there?
NIGEL
5:49 AM
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