You’ll have to be forewarned that this entry is going to be amazingly incoherent.
I have no depth.
I am shallow. I am the epitome of shallow.
I am a hypocrite.
Every time I have a chance to sit and muse, all aspects of myself and
my life thus far vexes me. I will be seventeen years old in less than 4
days! What have I to show for it all? My aspirations to get into
Vanderbilt?! My desire to have the freedom to hop into my car and drive
off to some place? My want for unlimited money to buy the things those
I am surrounded by have? The ineffable obsession with being the most
intelligent person of my peers? Or close to most intelligent? My want
for a friend.
A true friend. I know. I know. I have friends. A good amount too. But
it’s in those times I have a moment to actually think. THINK. That I
feel I don’t have a single true one. Like in those movies or shows
where the protagonist is constantly relaying his/her troubles onto
their best friend forever. And that friend is so consoling and so
caring and so…fictional. For there is no such friend out there. Not
for me. Not for anyone I can name right now. Yes, I do have plenty of
friends who I’ve known for years and years and years. But we’ve grown
apart. In many ways, become the antithesis of eachother and yet still
maintained a healthy enough relationship that we can touch base every
Monday at school after a brief weekend respite and mechanically retell
our weekend adventures or misadventures or misfortunes or whatever. We
can dully explain how pitiful our lives are and how we hate our lives
or our family or something.
Anything to blame for our inadequacy in life or personal shortcomings.
Why is it that I now feel so beset with the myriad things that engulf
me as a teenager? Why is it that I have come to realize that I can
mimic a little under a million people and personalities and claim
others’ ideas and innovations as my own? Really I am just like a sponge
still gaining “knowledge” through osmosis. I am not impervious to the
flooding of things we as humans are exposed to every second of the
Why is this entry so abstract?
My mind wanders. Meanders from one thing to another with not defined
path or train of thought. I am random. I am spontaneous. I am incapable
of grounding myself in my meditative state. Which might be considered
normal to some.
Why do I want to attain so much knowledge? Why do I constantly seek to
know as much as I possibly can about anything? Why, for the last year
and a half have I taken the initiative to research random topics and
words which I am unfamiliar with? Why do I want to have such an
extensive vocabulary? To be articulate? To sound mature and intelligent
beyond my years? Do I feel inferior to my fellow classmates? Do I fear
that I will grow and be of the lowest intellectual level in any given
Why am I so paranoid of my color when around some? Why do I care so
much for the materialistic aspect of life here? Why do I tend so much
to gravitate towards the expensive and ludicrously hyped things? The
shoes? The clothes? The cars? The schools? The accessories? The
appearances? The people? The neighborhoods? The places? The lifestyles?
Has living in such an affluent environment handicapped me or enabled
me? Does the word Brentwood immediately change my mindset when I travel
elsewhere? Does, Brentwood really affect one’s impression of others?
Has it altered mine?
I am no virgin at all.
Perhaps sexually, but not in my mind. Yes. I have been tainted. I
perceive things without any innocence. All has been affected by the
exterior things. The things that have the power to affect me. Parents.
Friends. The Media. The common things that we all are aware of and
understand to affect us.
I am so fake. I tell myself that I am not like he or she and that I am
better off not like he or she. But I have my own faults which I know
the next person is thankful for not having themself. I am petty. I am
constantly berating myself.
I am predictable and ridiculously self-critical.
People say that I am talented. Pretty. Cute. Beautiful. Hilarious. Intelligent. Short. Athletic. Fast. Sexy. Cool. Awesome.
The adjectives uttered in conjunction with my name are many. Yet I
still feel inadequate. I find myself regressing to that elementary mode
of asking the stupid questions: Do I look too big in this? Am I
annoying? Are you mad at me?
I should care less about my appearence and how I am perceived by
others. Being aware of what THEY think will not mean I can change their
thoughts and opinions on the matter(s).
I am simply a defeatist. I relentlessly tell myself I need to stop
procrastinating and settle down to do what the hell is at task. But
then I do so and I tell myself I was better of having left it alone. I
evade things subtly and conspicuously.
I veer and digress habitually and sometime inadvertently. And I fail at the things I so desperately had wanted to achieve.
I am a dog chasing my own tail and anothers. To no avail.
I am negative and need to gain some sense of optimism. If I don’t learn
to channel my energy into things more worthwhile I will destroy myself
and those around me. Somehow. If not quickly then gradually.
Why do I have to look good? Why do I care if my ass is nice to look at
or if my breasts are the ideal size? Why do I care if my waist is as
small as possible? Why seek to be looked at or “checked out” every
random moment once in a while? Why conciously make the effort to catch
the eye of another whilst looking as natural as possible? Why ask of
other’s so I can simple say I “know” about things and people?
Why so many questions? Why ask why? Why am I not smart enough to anwer my own inquiries?
I HATE the ambivalence. I want clarification. I want to not want to want so much. I want to be as articulate as anything.
I want to be so intelligent that another might feel (even remotely) intellectually challenged. I seek to be intimidating.
I have sought and continue to seek so much that think my brain may rupture from all the nerve impulses as I think of them.
I am fatigued and overcome with lassitude I cannot continue with this anymore.
Yet the thoughts continue to pore out to my fingertips where they hack
away on this poor worn keyboard where the letters have started to fade.
How to preclude myself from falling into a state of despondency?
One might say this is a time for prayer. But let me veer and begin on
that avenue and I will never complete this erratic document.