in my room smells so bad. this is disgusting. partying too hard for too long, effects are taking toll. so tired, so much homework, such a foul smell, no time to clean. good thing i’m leaving and going back home for a week tomorrow! hopefully the smell goes away when i get back.
i’m actually already bracing myself for how bad it’s gonna be when i get back, it’s just gonna fester and i’m going to automatically die the second i step foot in my room next week.
I feel like I’ve done more growing up in the last two or three years of my life than I have ever previously done. It’s crazy, really. I can’t believe it. It’s not as if 20 is any much different than 19, but just the fact that it doesn’t end in “teen” makes me much more sad than I ever imagined. I was a little shithead growing up. Well I still am growing up, like I still have so much left to learn. But when I was younger I guess. I was so stoked when I turned 13. I was officially a teenager, and I thought I had everything figured out by like 16, cause I found indie music and hated my parents and didn’t believe in God. I was “ready” for anything, I could “handle” whatever, I didn’t “need” school. I wanted to be a little fucking rebel or something. I built up this idea about being a teenager since when I was tiny, like they were so old and badass. And I wanted to be that. But the reality of being that young and in that mindset, it’s so stupid. I regret so much from back then-how I treated people, especially my family, how I alienated myself from friends, how I thought I was too good for this place, how I thought I could do something great without actually doing anything. There was a time when everything came easy, especially school. And it fed into this bullshit idea I had of myself. It made me lazy, I thought I was just destined for something, and I didn’t need to work or rely on anyone. But then around like 16 all that shit stopped. The handouts stopped coming. School got hard. I got too bitter to be happy. I was frustrated all the time. I was too scared to admit I wasn’t as great as I thought I was. I didn’t develop relationships with people, and I took so much shit out on my parents, who didn’t deserve any of it. And instead of doing anything, I kind of rolled over and died. I was just content with being miserable, I thought that was how life was, I thought it was all I was meant for. I guess I hit a low point around 18 when my grandfather died. It was the first time I lost anyone who was so close to me. I was just stagnant, and I was ready to stay stagnant for the rest of my life. I kept so much bottled up, I kept failing. The hole I’d been digging my entire seemed impossible to climb out of, and in a sense, it’s what I deserved. I hadn’t tasted success in so long, I figured I’d never have it again. I had to start from scratch. Getting out of high school was the best thing to ever happen to me-even though I wish I could go back everyday. If I had stayed there I would died. I couldn’t take the failure. I couldn’t take the truth. My entire life was fucking bullshit. My life up to that point was just a joke, a lie was telling myself. I wasn’t the person in real life that I was in my mind, and you can’t live like that. Starting over was the best thing to happen to me. And because I did so shitty as a teenager I didn’t have to go very far to star anew. But I got to start from scratch and slowly change who I was. And I’m so much happier, because I realized how stupid it is to want to face the world alone. I realized I love my parents more than anything, because they still fucking love me after everything. Because everyone will leave you. Everyone. No one stays the same or by your side; every single one of your friends you have right now will one day never say another word to you again. And you know what? Fuck them, because your parents will always fucking be there. I get so mad when I see my sister whose 14 get so angry at our parents for not letting her go to the movies or stay the night with her fucking douchebag 8th grade friends (being an 8th grade douchebag is something I’m very familiar with). I wanna shake her and say “DON’T YOU SEE?! DON’T YOU GET IT!? THESE AREN’T YOUR FRIENDS, THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU, MOM AND DAD ARE ALL YOU GOT”, but I can’t, because I felt that exact same way when I was her age. And I can’t give her all the advice I’m bursting to tell her because I ignored her for so long growing up. And it breaks my fucking heart to know she still loves me, even though she’s too old to admit it now. I’m getting fucking teary eyed and I never fucking cry and this is fucking tumblr and it’s fucking bullshit, but I feel so ashamed to have neglected Emma for so long, yet she still looks up to me like I’m some fucking hero. I don’t understand, except I do. She’s my little sister and I’m her big brother, and she loves me and she’s loved me ever since she could fucking remember, but I’m such a piece of shit, and especially to her, that there’s no fucking way I deserve it. I don’t know where to begin. “I’m sorry Emma, for never paying attention to you, for resenting you, for not wanting a little sister, for not being a good brother, for being an asshole for 3/4ths of your life.” And that’s when I realized that the love that’s spread between my fucking peers is bullshit and not real. Because no one our age can love you like your parents, they aren’t capable. We’re all too stupid and haven’t experienced enough to really know what love is. Because I know for a fact there isn’t person who’d still be by my side if I had put them through what I put my parents through. And they love me. And no one else loves me.
I got sidetracked there. But the point I think I was trying to make, besides the fact that I’m a dick brother, is I haven’t said a single word to the majority of graduating class since the day high school ended, and I feel fucking great. Because they don’t matter. And once I realized that there’s no one to impress, that they’re all dumbass bullshit assholes just like me, I could concentrate on myself and focus and become a better person-the person I always wanted to be. I feel happier. I feel smarter, success is slowly crawling it’s way back in my life. Good things are happening again. I feel like I’m more pleasant to be around. I have a relationship with God that is only going to grow stronger in the years to come. I still have a long way to go in that department, sacrifices to make and time to devote, but I can honestly say I wouldn’t be where I am right now if I hadn’t looked for God and asked Him for guidance when I so desperately needed it. I don’t want this to be a “found God when I was down-and-out and it changed my life” story, cause it’s not, but it kinda is, and I’m not trying to convert any non-believers, but all I can say is don’t knock it until you try it. You get exactly what you put into it. If you look for answers you may not find them at first, but they’re there. Pray, and blessings will come. Maybe not in the way you expect them to, but they’ll be so much greater than you could ever imagine.
So that’s where I’m at now, as I enter my early 20s. I weathered the storm I guess. I overcame myself and realized how pointless and unhealthy it is to live how I was. But in a sense, I’m sad to see this chapter of my life ending-the teenage years. I guess I’m too sentimental for my own good, because for almost the entire span of my life between 13-19 I was a terrible person haha. But still, all the experiences I had in those years shaped me and helped me grow, and molded me into who I am now. And it wasn’t all bad. I had so many good times and enjoyed the few perks that accompany being a teenager. Most notably having an excuse to do something-actually anything I wanted. I was just “young”. Some good came out of using that excuse, but mostly I was just fucking dumb haha. But hey, we were all teenagers once right? I’d give anything in the world to go back and be 18 and in Paris for that week again. Or to go back and be 17 and between the sheets laying next to a certain someone, and stand on the edge of the fucking cliff that is childhood, and not know what’s to come. To have that wonder, and that not-so-innocent innocence, about what’s it like to be responsible. To be always eluding growing up. To still feeling bulletproof, but to when I’m aware my glory days are behind me and I can’t live like this, because I have to grow up. To when I realized my life was changing before my eyes, and each breath is precious because it’s not like the last one, and I’ll never get it back. To where everything was changing around me and I felt hopeless and I wanted to stop it, because I wanted to stay young and be little because I’m scared, but at the same time I wanted stay in bed between those sheets with my lover because I’m old enough and it feels right. To go back and be 15 and hear my favorite band for the first time again again. To go back to 13 and still cuddle with my baby blankie, even though I know I’m too old for that shit. I guess that’s what I’ll miss the most and why I’m so sad.
When I was really little and birthdays were still exciting, I would imagine turning older was like having a little coal miner in your body, and he would spend the entire year chiseling rock away from a number, like a shiny number 8, and on your birthday, the coal miner would finish and you’d have this brand new gold shiny number and you’d be a year older, and the coal miner would go right back to work chiseling away to get the next number for your next birthday. I forgot all about that until a few weeks ago. I guess it was just a dumb childish thing and I just dropped it from my memory. The numbers stopped being important and I was sad all the time. But now that my birthday is three days away I can see the sparkles shining through on a 20. My coal miner is almost there, he’s almost done, and I can feel the greatness radiating from this coming year, I’m excited for whats to come, for the first time in years.
There isn’t a bad feeling I can’t drive out of me. It’s so therapeutic to just get behind the wheel and on a highway. I just drive till I don’t feel like shit anymore. There’s something about being alone and in your thoughts, with really loud and preferably sad music, that puts everything in perspective.
too fucking pumped for title fight/bayside/senses fail tomorrow. it’s seems like all i’ve been listening to lately is pop punk and chillwave. and it’s awesome, title fight is so fucking sick. there hasn’t been a show i’ve looked forward to as much as this one in awhile. 4th time seeing senses fail? yes please, hello freshman year of high school.
when someone can tell you’re nervous. When they realize and say, “its okay, relax”, it makes you feel so much smaller than you already do. Its such a weird, awkward feeling. I hate being nervous and antsy. Someone pointed out the other day that nervousness and excitement feel the same, which is interesting. I guess I don’t like being excites either.
Also, last night, I dreamt a family of black people dressed up as clowns went to the movies. Thats pretty much all I can remember, its a lot scarier than it sounds. Go coogs.
probably one of the most awkward moments of my life. I figured it was a normal table, but as the night went on, and the wine started to disappear, this lady, prolly late 30s to mid 40s, with her husband right there, was like “you’re really cute” and that evolved into “you look like a young jared leto”, (which made me furious because jared leto is my least favorite person on the entire planet) and that eventually culminated into her offering me 200 bucks to go home with her that night. She was completely serious, pulled out the money and tried putting it in my front pocket, and her husband looked like he wanted to get up and punch me in the face. I told her “I’m sorry, I can’t”, and walked off, and got their dessert. Apart from awkward stares from afar and a weird goodbye, everything else was fine. She was kind of nice, but still, I was weirded out. I thought things like that only existed in movies. My uncle who owns the restaurant told me I should have taken the money and ran. I wish I had his brain. Strange shit goes down at work, but at least it makes it interesting.
I’ve never had a stretch of days where I’ve felt so fucking confused and mad and then extremely blessed right after. Like I don’t know what exactly to feel right now, things are somewhat back to normal, but still. I realize now I need to take better care of things and pay more attention to those who matter the most to me. I’ve always been so shitty at expressing feelings, especially verbally, that’s why it’s so much easier to write. But I guess I need to work on a lot of things I’ve put on the backburner for awhile now. But I’m glad for a second chance. And also, I’m going to be on TV?? I was seriously dumbfounded by the response I got from writing this article. Both good and bad, I think all the negative responses are pretty funny. Given it’s an article in the OPINION section, some stoners get angry at the truth. Or what I think is the truth. Either way, heres the article.
I was just looking to gain experience and practice writing newspaper articles, but fuck I got a TV offer. I got an email from a producer of Drugs, Crimes and Politics asking if I could talk about my article on the show next wednesday. I’ve never heard of the show and have no idea of what I’m in for, but shit let’s see what comes out of this. I mean I’m kinda scared, I’m pretty sure they want me on the show to make me look dumb. But hopefully I can turn this into something else, something beneficial.
The weeks are flying by, it’s so scary. I’m about to be 20, and I think it’s funny how I’m more stoked to see Say Anything/Saves the Day instead of my birthday. Aaaaand I’m almost 1 more semester away from getting the fuck out of here (hopefully). When I look back at this period of my life, I don’t want to remember it as the time in my life when I made annual trips to Austin and smoked cigarettes on dark highways to stay awake. I need something tragic, or monumental, or inspiring to happen. But waiting for inspiration is probably the most unproductive waste of time anyone can do. So hopefully this summer I can make a permanent pilgrimage to Austin and never come back.