A Letter To High School Me

Hey Dipshit,

It’s you, 8 years in the future, and I’ve gotta say: you suck, and I’m glad I’m not you anymore. You had all of the opportunities in the world, but you squandered them because you thought smoking weed before practice made you cool. It didn’t. You had all the time in the world to figure yourself out and decide what you wanted out of life, and what did you do? You got stoned and played Fallout 3 for 600 hours instead of learning how to be a person. You have ruined so many things for us; we could’ve done something worthwhile, but you just HAD to be cool, you just HAD to convince other people that you knew what you were doing, and you don’t.

I want to say that things got better, but I’m pretty sure you know that’s bullshit. You always had to convince people that you were okay, and you aren’t, and literally everyone can see that you’re not okay, so stop joking around all the time to try and hide the fact that your miserable. It only gets worse.

I found our senior yearbook, and just, wow. You really blew something special because you weren’t satisfied with what you had. That girl is waaaaaaaaaaay better off without you, you should’ve noticed that nerdy artsy girl that was always into you, she would be perfect for you, but you’re still too busy being a shallow prick to realize that. Why are you the way that you are? Why do you wear band shirts for bands you don’t listen to? Why do you think that goatee looks good? Why do you think you can get away with not studying or doing any homework? You’ve gotten lucky your whole life, and you haven’t done anything to deserve any of the things you’ve been given.

Now, you’re not all bad. I genuinely think you have a bigger heart than I do. You definitely are better at talking to people than I am, you have a much less jaded view of the world, and you would give the shirt off your back for the people you care about. Enjoy it while it lasts, along with your hairline, your iPod touch, and your faith in humanity. You lose them all in 2 years.

Begrudgingly,

You.

The Curse of the Cursor

That stupid blinking “|” is pissing me off right now. It’s almost taunting me, simulating a struggling heartbeat, threatening to die at any moment. I’m not sure where this is going, I’ve got a crazy case of writer’s block.  I don’t like being creatively blocked, so I’m going to fight through it with some potentially shitty writing. The more it blinks at me, the more it distracts me, which pisses me off even more. There’s nothing worse than having a million thoughts ricocheting around your brain, aching to get out, and not having the ability to piece them together coherently. It’s like when you open way too many apps on your computer, and it freezes. That’s where I am right now: the brief flash of thought before my brain shuts down and I turn on some brainless bullshit like “Jersey Shore” so I can relax my mind and yell at morons who probably make more than I do.

I don’t like being beaten by a fucking flashing pixel, it’s not real, but it’s causing a real reaction for some reason, which is worrisome. This should probably be one of those posts that no one ever sees, but who knows what’ll happen to it. I like to write when I’m upset and can’t process feelings clearly, so that I can see my thoughts written out, which usually makes me think about how stupid and illogical they are, then that either makes me feel worse to the point where more writing doesn’t help, or makes me feel at ease to the point where I can function again.

It’s getting late, and I have things to do tomorrow, and I’ve been trying to get more sleep, so I’m going to keep this semi-short, just long enough for me to feel like I’ve beaten that stupid flashing pixel. It’s starting to seem like there’s something more to this, do I think that I’ll eventually run out of ideas? Maybe. Do I think that what I have to say isn’t worth saying, much less reading? All the time, but I still write. Do I have trouble piecing my thoughts together in a coherent format? You bet. This feels like something else.

I’m kind of scared to publish personal shit, it feels like oversharing. I know it makes me uncomfortable to read someone pour their hearts out online, so why should I do it? I’ve done it before, but it’s always been while super drunk, and it’s a lot easier to believe in yourself when you’re barely seeing straight. I think I’ll just save this in drafts for now, and wait until I have more confidence in both my writing skills, and myself. It might take awhile.