I was scared, and wholeheartedly unprepared. My fingers in my throat.

When my hands were clean, you should’ve seen how they would gleam and now you’d never know.

I’m sure there’s a secret to happier living that I was never told.

I fucked up when I set the precedent and made what you think a thing of relevance. Leaving my mental state in unqualified hands. My veins drained.

It cost me 20 dollars and change to have my outlook on life rearranged. These new flavors all taste the fucking same but these bottles get so much prettier every fading day.

I kept your lighter in the spot you left it last. White plastic chamber, my bad luck is a hard thing to mask, but I kept strong. My obsession is a problem of the past.

It’s been purgatory ever since. I grew old, out, up, indifferent. At least in hell they feel.

There’s a moral here, I know it, I just can’t figure what. Between my job, car, and gut, there’s plenty I’m unhappy about, but not in the sense of depression or long-term motivation. It just feels like most days I have no fucking clue what to do with myself. Live mundanely and stable or rip my hair out and cry for help? But then again, who’d listen anyway? Like I’m the first motherfucker to be confused? Even if you lived a whole year in my shoes, I don’t think you’d be impressed. So give me a reason to care or give me death. Give me liberty or give me death.

Fuck both. Just buy me a shot and lets pretend we’re okay.

It’s been purgatory ever since. I grew old, out, up, indifferent. At least in hell they feel.

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you ever think about human beings as a whole?

I think about that shit all the time. It makes it a lot harder to appreciate the loss of a life. In the grand scheme of things, one person dying makes little to no difference. You and everyone you know could drop dead right now and the world wouldn’t flinch.

On some level, I suppose most people would consider that a depressing note, but I feel like its more of a reminder. A challenge of sorts. I wanna be worth remembering when I’m gone. Death is not sad. Death should never be a surprise. Death is something that we’ll all come to know sooner or later. The only sadness associated with death is the what-ifs. When I die I just want something to show for it. A short lifetimes worth of writing, songs, drawings, whatever. Something that will last way longer than I did.

but then again, I have been reading a lot of Bukowski lately.

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I want to grow up to be strong, separate my own right from my wrong, and make an impact on someone other than myself.

Live a respectable life. Have 2 kids with a loving wife and leave this sad & lonely shit for someone else.

And if I had the choice, I’d swap mine for a stronger voice. Something memorable with stronger under tones. 

But I’ll grow out of this phase. I’ve convinced myself that these days are just the trials and tribulations of finding a home. And I WILL find my home.

And should this beast be the death of me, I promise that beast will remember me as I rip, I tear, I fight, I bleed until I’m free.

Free speech never felt as good as when I stole it from under your tongue.

Failure is such a strong term, but a more fitting word, I know of none.

Let’s take bets to see who finishes first. You at your best, and me at my worst.

What I saw seemed important but I’m having trouble remembering what it was. A hint at the future of present heartbreaks caused by past misguided “loves.”

Voyeurism at its finest! All I can do now is watch and pretend that everything starts the same way it ends.

Moving forward will take a bit of extra work. I may now be a monster, but developed just a child scared & hurt.

And should this beast be the death of me, I promise that beast will remember me as I rip, I tear, I fight, I bleed until I’m free.

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If you’re the type of nigga to take one of my games out of my console/PC and put it in the wrong case, I don’t wanna know you.

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My past experiences have had a huge effect on the person that I am today. I wouldn’t say I learned anything new about myself, but I did get a sort of clarification on these things. No one ever really bothered to stop and talk to me about how my sexuality would play out. I’ve never been lectured on the things I would feel and experience. It’s always just happened. I think it’s a shame that my parent’s and my teachers couldn’t take the time out to teach me how to put on a condom. I think growing up, sex and all its related topics had a mysterious sort of aura around it. The way it was portrayed in movies and in TV was really all I had to go by. We were all attracted to it and wanted to experience it for ourselves, but it was so taboo that it became hard to know where to start or how to handle it. Everything sexual I’ve ever experienced in my life was a learning process that no one ever prepared me for, which seems strange to me, because I consider sexuality to be a huge part of who we are. It’s something that everyone has in them and is as individual as personality. For something so common and so potentially dangerous, I can’t see a logical reason for me to have to shamefully google on my own how to put on a condom. I can’t see a logical reason for me to be embarrassed of talking about it, either. Really examining my sexual past just makes me wish I had someone there to tell me that its not something to be ashamed of or to feel weird about. It makes me wish someone told me it was okay to ask questions. 

I believe sexuality plays a huge role in my life, simply because it’s just part of who I am. I am a 20 year old male attracted to females. It influences who I interact with and how I interact with them. It influences how I react to some statements and how I view some people. Even if I tried, I don’t think I could separate myself from the sexuality involved with just being a young college student in the US. I identify with a certain sexual identity, I have relationships of varying levels of intimacy, I experience some form of sensual gratification as a direct result of females I am attracted to, I make my own sexual health one of my primary concerns, and in the right scenario, I will most likely use my sexuality to attract another. I am a sexual being, and there’s no way around that. We all are to some degree and it is nothing to be ashamed of. 

I think the most fascinating thing about sexuality is the variance it comes with. Everyone is different for a plethora of reasons that only they can explain. Sexuality comes with plenty of stories, values, emotions, and morals. It’s a huge part of who we all are, and I am envious of the person who gets to read these papers. Something like this could give you a serious insight on the person writing it.

•

I was making genre specific playlists on my ipod, and I came across a few songs I ripped off of YouTube.

One of them was by this user named DaisyCow. She wrote songs on the ukelele and this one song “Don’t Remind Me” really hit home for me. It’s a simple song, but her lyrics and beautiful soft voice really reeled me in. 

I’ve been searching for her on the internet for the past half hour, and can’t find any sign of her.

It’s kind of sad. I’m genuinely upset I may never see what else she has produced since. It’s really a sweet song.

Kind of a night ruiner tbh

But tumblr doesn’t care. No one cares about a lost youtube artist with a voice of gold, do they? WELL I DO.

DaisyCow if you ever read this, please make more music and send it to me. I miss you. I miss you a lot.

•

I’ve fucking figured it out. I know why I don’t enjoy the internet anymore. 

Because I don’t contribute to it.

Going on tumblr and reblogging bullshit isn’t a contribution. Posting/lurking on 4chan isn’t a contribution. Checking facebook and twitter isn’t a contribution. Reading articles, while some of them may be awesome, still isn’t a contribution.

I used to go to forums and post on a daily basis. We’d talk about shit I never get to talk about in real life. I’d make art and be excited about showing these guys! I’d be playing online games, making games in RPGmaker, and interacting. I need to join an awesome, small forum. I genuinely miss making internet friends. Fuck you tumblr, I haven’t met anyone cool through you. 

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Its been a weird past 2 days. Not depressing, just weird. Thinking about what college REALLY is. Its not high-school. Things don’t just fall into your lap. College requires direction and initiative. Its a weird adjustment, but its one you have to make. If you sit around too long just taking classes for the sake of going to school, unlike high-school, it wont get you to graduation. basically, stop bitching about college. Grow the fuck up and pick your own direction. No ones holding our hands through this anymore.

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This is Ira Wright. 

I liked Ira’s character a lot. Plenty of movies out there have that awkward, but lovable nerd. Its nothing new. Just look at Micheal Cera. 

But the problem I have with Micheal Cera movies is that… shit always works out for him. It makes for an entertaining movie I suppose, but it doesn’t reflect the reality of actually being that awkward-nerdy type. At the end of the movie, a part of you kind of wishes you were Micheal Cera, you know? He may be that scrawny soft-spoken nerd, but he gets the girl, he keeps all his friends, and everything he did was well intentioned and probably worked out for him in the end.

Ira just barely made it out of there with the girl AFTER his friend fucked her first. He dicked over his other friend and didn’t tell him that George Simmons wanted them BOTH to write jokes for him, just so he’d have the competitive edge. He tried his best but everything just kind of blew up in his face and by the end of the movie, he’s just a deli-clerk in some supermarket serving people 1/2 pounds of ham and going to local open-mic nights trying to make people notice him. He made little to no progress outside of the experience of dealing with people who only think of themselves. He spends 80% of the movie trying his best, but fucks up damn near all of it. 

I like that.

He’s fucking human. I don’t wanna be Ira, but I would hang out with him. I have my own shit to deal with.

I like movies that FEEL REAL. I like seeing my own selfish tendencies in characters. I’ve never been one for perfection I guess. 

I don’t know, just something I was thinking about the other day.

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Listening to an amazing album + playing one of your favorite video games > sex

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This semester, I am taking Psychology of Human Sexuality. I love it.

We had this assignment where we were split into groups and asked to describe a sexually healthy person. It led into a debate of sorts. People were throwing around words like “clean” and “neat” and “disease free.”

The way I see it, this type of stuff is on an entirely individual basis. Who the fuck are you to say who looks “clean.” Or lets say a girl fucks 3 different dudes a week, but practices safe sex and gets herself checked regularly. Is she dirty? How about a virgin that is proud of her body and shows a little extra skin from time to time. Is she a slut? I just don’t understand where people get off labeling what is and what isn’t a healthy sexual lifestyle OR what a person with a healthy sexual lifestyle looks like. 

Do you know what I think a healthy sexual lifestyle is? Whatever you want it to be! As long is its responsible(that is to say, use condoms, get checked, etc etc…), it can be whatever you want it to be. Its not about how many or how few people you’ve fucked. It’s not about how you present what your body has to offer. It’s not about looking a certain look or acting a certain way. It’s about you being okay with you! You being satisfied! Whether that means you have sex with men, women, or masturbate twice a day. As long as you’re not bothering anyone and you know what you’re doing, go have fun.

Also, disease-free is a rough term to throw around. STI’s are a lot more common than you’d think. 

Just be safe and be happy!

•

I have been desensitized to gore thanks to video games and the internet.

I don’t really think that’s a bad thing, though. It’s just a different perspective on life, death, and human beings in general.

I look at gore because it never ceases to amaze me how fragile my body is, and just like everything else on this planet, it can be torn apart, blown to bits, and destroyed. 

Mentally we are something else, but physically, you’re just another animal.

I think that’s pretty cool. 

Somebody suggest a gore blog for me to check out.

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Niggas will take pictures of themselves doing ANYTHING just to post it on tumblr.

And then it gets like 30+ notes in a minute.

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HOW LONG BEFORE IT STARTS ACCURATELY REFLECTING MY MUSICAL TASTES?

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“And sure, when it comes to the Internet, there are a lot of trolls, or just lonely people, who might pretend they’re suicidal just to get attention, but if you get tricked by them, who actually loses? When trolls trick you into clicking on a spam offer or a promised porn link, maybe they prove you’re greedy or a pervert, and it makes you feel stupid. But if they trick you into saying something nice to an imaginary suicidal person, what does that prove? That you have a heart and care about human life? Ha ha! That troll sure exposed you!

Even if nine out of 10 threatened Internet suicides are trolls or attention-getters, I don’t care about looking stupid nine times to save one person’s life.”

You know, I never really thought about it like that.

That’s why I read blogs, because I like to see how other people think. Sometimes it makes a whole lot more sense then the way I think.

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