My first entries in my hardcopy journal are very strange. They date from April 2008. I was going through a very difficult time. Anyway, the things I said in them are interesting, but they don't really apply to my philosophy of life anymore.
With that, I will start with a writing exercise I practiced on June 16th 2008.
Writing is...always relaxed, always flows, recording of my thoughts, preaching.
Dad is... a simple man. enjoys specific, random, irrelevant events in history, potato chips, europe, baseball, and me. He is my world, I am his. I didn't talk to him today. Out of all the people in the world, over 6 billion, I know him the best.
People are... confusing. But they aren't. I just overanalyze and think they are. I can't go back to normal. I don't know how to just "see what's in front of me" anymore.
I'm weird. I can't do high school anymore. I'm too weird for my friends. Where are all the weird kids in this town? I wish I could find them. Everyone is the same. If they aren't, then they pretend to be. They have the standards of how the boys should be, and how the girls should be. I'm expected to be like them, but I just can't do it anymore. So I end up being incredibly awkward, annoying, confusing and confused, random, and just plain uncomfortable. I want college. I want to shed this plastic skin for good. I hate it. I'm a me, not a them. I'm an individual. And if we were all individuals, then there would not be any outcasts.
Anyway, I used to be like them, now I'm in the transition and dying to break free. I need to forget their mindless, fruitless, and obsessive ways. I'm alone, very alone. Oh well, I have my mind to keep me company. My mind, writing, music, art. That's all I need to live in a beautiful world.
So I'll stay here for a while, in a solitary haze of beauty and peace. This is my dependable paradise.
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