Trying to be polite but also honest; not really succeeding.

Friday, Feb. 18, 2011

Feeling down today. Cried in the woods. I don’t want to be here on this planet. I can’t do this alone, anymore.

Saturday, Feb. 19, 2011

Lying—or rather not lying—has become important to me. My evolving morals and ethics are a strong influence. I really don’t like lying to people or to myself. Being me is really important to me and I can’t be myself (be who I am) if I’m living a lie or telling lies. (Telling lies would be a part of Living a Lie.)

But at the same time, I haaaate confrontation, arguments, disagreements, and differences of opinions. Now when I say “differences of opinions,” I’m not talking about one person preferring pepperoni pizza and the other vegetarian. I mean more like difference of philosophy, I suppose.

This would include spiritual views and political views. I just don’t like having arguments or conversations (same thing, in my eye) about those two topics.

So when my sister asked me what I thought of the DVD movies she let me borrow (she really liked all of them—enough to buy them), I stumbled for words. What would be the appropriate answer when I don’t wish to offend, but I think the movies are total crap? She kept pushing, asking for my opinion and called me “being defensive” when I still resisted. It’s so difficult to bring myself to lie, just to keep the peace.

I don’t feel comfortable around her. We have significant differences in world view and it feels like the generic differences (we’re white, female, around the same age, wish happiness for others, etc.) aren’t all that heavy in value.

It’s annoying to me that I can’t sit down and have a conversation with her. The above paragraphs explain the first reason why, but there’s also another reason—her child. When I talk to my sister, I have about one to three seconds to speak before she starts playing with her child or (if the child is sleeping), starts checking the baby monitor. Often, I’ll be in the middle of a sentence. Or she’ll sometimes just start talking to her child when I’m talking (and I’m not even one of those people who talks for long periods of time.)

Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, so we can just keep conversations superficial (How’s the weather? How’s your garden? etc.) for the reasons of differing spiritual/philosophical views, but it’s still annoying. It’s like going on a date with a guy who keeps checking his cell phone or texting someone else while I’m talking.

I don’t feel important as a friend, or valued. I would like to feel valued.

I feel like my sister’s “cup is already full.” She has her own ideas about the world (as do I) and I do not get the sense that she’d be accepting of me. She only says the generic things (“Well, everyone has a right to their own views/opinions.”) that are the kind of bland, condescending bullshit you’d hear from a politician or customer service hotline.

It’s fine—we can still have a good time if we keep the conversations light and filled with laughter. I just really wish—once again—that I had someone in my life (here, not on the internet) who shared my beliefs (spiritually, politically), so I didn’t feel so god-damned alone on this Hell of a planet.

Is “experiencing difference” part of one of the lessons I’m here to learn? Surely there must be a better or easier way to accomplish that goal without feeling like a damn rejected outcast all the time.

Fuck… what if this IS the easier path?

I just have nothing to compare it to.

I don’t want to be around people who are different than me, but ever since I made the decision to be myself, I just feel so isolated. I suppose I’m responsible for that—I push people away who are different in the areas of spirituality and politics, hoping that I’ll eventually find someone or some group where I can fit in. That group is something I’ve been dreaming about for over a decade now. I wish I knew if such a group existed for me. I hate being kept in the dark. Sometimes I really hate this planet. It’s not the planet, though—just the retarded civilization of humans that have been fucking things up for thousands upon thousands of years, here.


Drove to the library. Spent last of cash on a money order for rent and then a couple bucks on an apple, banana, green pepper and cucumber. It tastes good to have fresh fruit and veggies—I haven’t had the money to buy them. I hope the gardening store across the street hires me soon. I have no rent for April 2011, as of this moment.

I feel drugged, but I didn’t take any drugs (aside from chemicals in the food, air and water). Hazy mind. Hard to focus and see. And think. I’m walking around in a fog.

I don’t even know where I am, anymore. Supposedly, I’m in the midwest, but it feels just as foreign as Canada or Mexico. It feels like Nowhere Land. A citizen of Nowhere. A child of Nowhere.

I don’t feel like starting a garden, here.

This isn’t my home.

It will never be.

Crimson is a word that poets use.
Just fucking call it Red.
Contemplating is a word that philosophers use. 
I’m just figuring out what’s in my head.

February is the month when I seem to most feel like gardening and starting seeds. But for years, I’ve been in dark, shady, apartments and areas. Where can I go, where the sun will shine? I feel like leaving the country. I don’t want to do things alone anymore.

I feel like I have no goals. Anastasia’s dream only lasted while I was reading the books. I really felt like that was the certain future. But outside of those books, nothing happened. My reality is the same as every—taxes and bills. What a fucking joke of an existence.

I’m upset that no one will let me talk about myself. At the same damn time, I feel uncomfortable talking about me, because I don’t trust people. I think they won’t accept my unconventional beliefs.


One thought on “Trying to be polite but also honest; not really succeeding.

  1. Pingback: Crimson | The Miracle Mud Bath of Life

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