last night i was on my way to bed when an inevitable storm come up and let fall around my dorm. it was like senior year highschool.
so much of my current set-up has connections to that last year in a rich boarding school. i had a room when i felt at home, a small set of friends that i often had to hide from, classes that truly interested me, and cleansing rains in the fall. i had love and creativity, not necessarily unconnected. i would walk my day student girlfriend out onto the brick terrace, barefoot and still a little warm from the intimacy, and wave as one of her parents drove away with her. if it was raining, sometimes i'd stand right there, let the trapped heat from the bricks crawl up thru my feet, let the cold water run down from my shoulders, feeling closely surrounded and very full. often i'd go up to my room and write, technically for creative writing class, more to get out my thoughts, and for some reason they were all so true, even when i read them now, three years later.
now so many things are similar, but i've come full circle to the next level. so many crazy things i've learned, yet i come back to the same troubles, with different sources. i've known it for the last couple of months. now it hits in a funky depression.
i'm in need of some healing.
i'm caught in circles of my own pride. my fear when i got to swat - that no one would find me very interesting. the way i see myself is as a simple individual. i try not to be cynical. i have no wit to speak of. my intellect fails me when put to the test. cathy told me the other day that when i try to be evil she just doesn't buy it. all i have are some poetic ramblings and some curiousity. yet i act like i see myself as desirable and super-powered... like people should want to be around me because i'm not like them. like i'm special or something. ya ya, we're all special.
it's keeping me from really getting close to people... like i expect without deserving, without gratitude, and i know that's stupid. when you're so used to having things given to you you're never sure how to give back.
perhaps i think too much.
i don't want any of this!!!!!!
why can't i just be true to myself?
it doesn't help that many people i know are cynical or witty to the point of being harsh. perhaps i'm blind to the inherent absurdity of the world, but why should i have to dwell on it and not look beyond it? i'm not saying i have some great vision, or a certain inocence either. i just don't know what's up. what i'm missing. why i have a mild hate for everything around me.
perhaps it's as greg once told me... when you come to a new trouble in your life you can either look at it, try to understand it, and deal with it, or you can accept it as there, and move on. i'm caught trying to understand. it seems only natural.
and how can i have such pride when i see things in others that i want to be - envy. dissatisfaction with myself. is the pride to keep me standing in the face of so much doubt? a brave front to confusion?
it's all really a sadness, because in the end it's all in my head. and i'm too weak to get it out.
for now i need to escape, and movies won't do it, nor tequila. i need the sweet intoxication of a kiss.
why can't i just be like ethan's harmonica and joe's guitar, sweeping out over the cloud-hidden campus, beautiful and floating and true...