Why is it that every last thing we do is a cry for attention?
I can’t be alone in thinking this. Humans are social creatures and every little thing you do is a power play to someone or an attempt to be better. People tend to want to be the centre of attention. Our society has all these people in their little spotlights and idolises them. That spotlight, that lifestyle, drives people to behave in certain ways.
I’ve always felt a bit outside, a little weird, a little disconnected. I feel like I do things backwards. That’s who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. It’s probably a universal feel. The most common feeling shared by the 7 billion people on this planet is loneliness I’m pretty sure. We’re all trapped in the world inside our head. I can’t escape that shit, it’s the way I think of things. Will that last move harm me? Will it all come back to haunt me?
Even with that said, sometimes we make the choice to be haunted. If I can’t be famous this is going to be good enough right? I never felt noticed really. It’s silly. I have always had plenty of friends. That outside thing though… I never really felt at home with my family. Everyone is different I know, I’ve just spent enough time with these people to realise just how extensive those differences can be.
My family, I love them. I do. I really do. I don’t say it enough or act like it much but I really love them. I just never felt like I fit in there. My approach to life just doesn’t match up with them. Problems always seemed to just blow over before. That’s one lesson I should not have learned. But that’s just it isn’t it? I did learn that. It’s part of who I am now. It’s the only way I really get together with my family.
I barely hang out with my parents on a good day. Wait, sorry, I never hang out with my parents on a good day. So how do I hang out with my parents? Make a bad one I guess. It’s the only way that seems to make our conversations last.
I wish I could be the kid they wanted. I wish I could be the kid they deserved. Instead, the poor bastards ended up with me. I don’t like hurting them. I don’t try to. This pattern just keeps on happening. I get lonely and then my grades slip (to varying degrees) and they get to the point where they feel like they’ve failed. They didn’t. They can’t.
I won’t let them.
I can’t write any more. The screen’s too blurry under the tears.