It took awhile to go to sleep last night. After much frustration I got up and went down stair to have a sandwich and read until about 4 in the morning.
A lot has been going through my head. I've even started forgetting a lot of things because of all the small trivial things that race around my brain. I'm afraid of being boring or not having an opinion about anything. Still trying to figure out what I want, like everybody else. I'm also in the middle of this diet thing and I'm probably doing it for all the wrong reasons. Truth is, I mostly want to lose weight and look sexy, I don't care about health. I'm to afraid to tell my mom when she offers to send cookies.
I want to be passionate about something
someone
I want to be a better person, I want to be good and righteous and hold a code of honor
I want to carry the fire and always listen to my gut
feeling that is
sometimes my gut gets me in trouble
judging swiftly without enough thought
I'm scared of compromising myself or what I believe in
or even knowing what I believe in to compromise
to learn from mistakes that I don't want to make
or intentionally make
Part of this is from freaking out about turning 21.
It's a lot easier to not be a drinker when you're underage, duh.
Also when people assume you don't want to drink, because of prior stances
Last year around this time a got drunk for the first time, since then I have become less afraid and a somewhat limited occasional drinker, but I haven't been drunk since then.
I will probably go along with the American 21 year old tradition of getting wasted on my big 21. I'm still not sure how I feel about this.
I want experience some things, yet I don't want to let people down
Let Myself down, eat my words for being harsh to the ones I love
I'm trying to learn not to be harsh, I think I've gotten better
I'm also afraid of what alcohol can do
I've seen its demons up close and hate it
I hate everything I've leaned from it
I've seen it ruin my parents marriage
Create a gap between me and my mom
Battle enraged step dads
I've seen it kill friends
At that same time I'm strangely attracted by the romanticism of it
Charles Bukowski
Being that gruff worn down and beaten guy
A bad ass anti-hero ordering whiskey in a Western
Hemingway
self-destructive romanticism
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3 comments:
Remember when I came back from my parents' house that one night and I started crying and you were visiting Claire but you stayed with me after she left and talked to me?
You know that I know that you know better than this romanticized crap. For people like you and me alcohol will always be ugly.
Hugs for you Charlie.
thank you.
Searching for the romanticism in drinking is like searching for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Only you have to travel through all sorts of nasty, deceptive, washed-up places to find that the pot is filled with your dead friends' mutilated bodies.
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