I have three days of high school left.
That’s so weird.
School has been all I’ve ever known.
I used to talk about how much I just wanted it to end, because honestly, I never thought I’d make it this far.
Through out my high school career I had been asked the question, “Where do you see yourself 5, 10, 15 years from now?” and I was never able to answer (I still can’t) because I didn’t think I’d be able to make it this far.
I honestly never thought I’d be alive to make it to this point.
And now that what I thought was never going to happen is a reality, I don’t know what to do with myself.
I don’t know what to think.
Am I supposed to feel excited? Am I supposed to feel glad? Remorseful? Regretful? Nostalgic? Empty? Fulfilled? Proud?
I don’t feel like this is anything to be proud of. I don’t understand why completing a requirement is something to celebrate.
I’m well aware I sound ungrateful, but damn. I don’t know. I just feel confused.
I’m going to University in the fall. I’m going in undecided. I’m going into a city where I know very few to no people. I don’t really want to go to school. I don’t see myself being successful. I don’t see a college pushing me in the right direction. I don’t want a nine to five. I don’t want to sit in lecture halls. I want to play music. I want to make an impact with my own music. I want to be able to write, to compose, and to make something great.
But here I sit, feeling helpless and disappointed in myself because I don’t have the guts to do what I want to do.
I’m a fucking coward
and the worst part is that I know it.
When will I be able to get my head on straight? I don’t want to talk to my therapist. I am in the waiting room. It’s kind of funny how I almost always feel like I have no one to talk to yet my friends always say I can talk to them and my parents are paying someone to talk to me but I just don’t want to talk to them. It’s not comfortable, I feel like I’m going to be judged no matter who I talk to, they’re going to try to tell me what’s wrong with me and things I can do and advice but the thing is I’m already aware of all those things, I’m just too comfortable in this rut that I don’t even know if I could handle dropping off my baggage. It’s like taking a piece of jewelry off and feeling naked with out it. It’s the worst kind of comfort blanket. But I’d rather change than stay the same. Unfortunately I can’t bring myself to face my fears.
the best part about falling asleep is not knowing you’re asleep.
the thoughts i have before i sleep are normally optimistic. unrealistic, but, nonetheless optimistic.
i think of possibilities.
i think of all these things that could happen.
i think of all these things that i wish would happen.
and because i’m usually too tired to think realistically they actually seem possible.
but the worst feeling ever is waking up and realizing it didn’t happen
and that it never will.
is this really who i am? i don’t think it is. i don’t feel like it could be. it couldn’t be. i can’t recognize myself in passing puddles. i can’t see myself when i’m getting dressed. it seems like i’m always picking my clothes out in the dark and i just forgot to care about matching color schemes. i don’t know what i want. i don’t know where i’m supposed to go from here.
don’t let them see you cry.
I have never felt more alone - but that’s what I always say. So what makes this moment different from any other? What makes my conversations with you more significant than any other words you’ll ever speak? Call me selfish all you want. I don’t want to be a filler. I don’t want to be a disposal. Beggars can’t be choosers.
i just sit up all night making playlists with you in mind.
maybe only a quarter of the time.
the other fraction is for someone i haven’t met yet.
last night
droppingdimesandbearingknuckles:
Last night these like 17 year old new jack kids got mad because an older dude bumped into them while moshing, but those same kids were doing it as well. I guess one of them pushed the wrong guy and a fight broke out. The other one was stupid and little, but either way fighting at a pop punk show is fucking stupid. The new group of kids getting into pop punk make us all look like fucking douche bags. I said this last week after GK but it really needs to be said again, there’s no such thing as a pop punk pit beast. The sooner these new guys realize that, the sooner I can go back to being able to have fun at these shows without some bro getting mad because I dive on him while he’s wearing his sweet diamond cut hat. Besides that nonsense the show was awesome. My entire night was awesome. Fuck yeah.
word up marc
i don’t mean this to sound like some kind of elitist prick, i’m glad people are enjoying pop punk whether they’ve liked it since they could comprehend music (ahem) or if it was just last week.
the fucking chicks at the front who get mad because i end up almost starting a pile up on them need to shut the fuck up and get over it
if you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.
I don’t mean to be judgmental, and I’m aware that I am right now, but when I went to this tour there were three girls in the front row with tons of heavy make up on, hair all done up, and taking pictures with the metal horns being completely serious.
now, okay, that’s cool, i don’t care. but don’t get pissed when you get hit because you’re right in front of the mic. don’t get pissed when i bump into you.
it makes me so angry that girls get pissed when i end up hitting/bumping into them, but if a guy does, it’s completely okay.
get the fuck over yourselves and get out of the show.
this genre is about community and acceptance and if you can’t accept that, i can’t accept you. i found a place where i belonged when i was eleven and people made fun of me for it. now it’s cool and hip to like this shit and you all like it now, i’m glad you’ve all come to the light. but for god’s sake stop acting like you’re better than the rest of us because your personal appearance is more xpunkx or xtoughx than the rest of us. fuck.
i’m done ranting.
(Source: marcoayedoewelive)
hats off to the accomplished and to the progressive
bottoms up to the failures and the amateurs
raised glasses to the wealthy and the same filth
for you will probably never think
of all the things you could miss
out on
a judge and
a grade and
measurement
are by all means a way of life
but i refuse
i wish i would
refuse, i could
the amount of time i dwell on trees
so many conflicts for the ones who don’t
refuse to care.
you give us blank stares
a face as empty as the motives behind it couldn’t dare swing a gavel that carries the weight of a feather.
Half the jargon I spew I don’t even comprehend myself. I just ramble and ramble until the speech becomes inaudible. I go up and down way more than any man should. Points A, B, and C shouldn’t be so close together. In fact, they shouldn’t even correlate at all. Graphs and charts will not tell me who I am. Lab induced chemicals won’t cure my deficits. I know we’re all numbers, but I’d rather not be a statistic. I know I’m abnormal in a sense, but to a point I refuse to believe that this is all a disease.