(And no, I'm not going to talk about anal sex gone wrong. I'm serious this time.)
I cannot pretend forever. I cannot convince myself anymore that I'm unaffected. It just crashes into you one day - God, he's gone Bryan. You left him again and where does that leave you now? Why are you always so hungry for melancholic and masochistic events like this? Why did you have to do this?
Was it for your album? For Gun? For an album most of your students will not even feel and appreciate?
The weather isn't helping either. It's always cold now. And you're awake during the night. You sleep through the day until past noon so you miss the warmth and you neglect your duties. Your job. You neglect yourself. You waited for 24 full hours before you ate again last time. You can almost feel you bones jutting out in protest.
It's just that - you know, when you're in this stage, you ask yourself who you are living for? What is the purpose of everything that you do?
It gets so bad at times that you don't even want to leave your bed. Where will you go anyway? Your bed is the place for you right now. It's the only place you can really be alone.
And yet I get to thinking why some of my friends still love me despite who I am.
You know, what teaching really taught me is how to let go. I've learned not to be attached to my students anymore. I've learned to savor each moment while it lasts and when it's gone, I can fully accept it because I've prepared myself for it. I've learned not to cry about it. Add that to what I've gone through with Esme, Hunter, and lately, Ian. I've mastered the art of letting go.
I didn't even shed a tear when my pet cat died. He was my late night companion for almost eight years and not a single tear!
I'm becoming harder and harder and numb to worries and if all the people I care for disappared in an instant, at this point, I would hardly feel the difference.
I've held on to my dreams and to my ideals for a long time - I thought they are the things which make me me - but this world has a nasty habit of melting them away from you. The world loves to see you suffer. To show you that everything will not be as you expected it to be. And now I'm darker than ever. Darker and darker, no wonder Heath Ledger committed suicide.
If I go on at this rate, after ten years I'll probably be a black hole, sucking in happiness. If I'm still alive that is.
***
See how bad it is? I talk about shit just to avoid the real problem.
And I don't even know how to mend it. Or do I have the strength to do that? Do I care at all? I don't even want to go through this for me. I don't deserve to get to the end unscathed.
***
And yet when my friends (most of them past students) ask me how I'm doing, wishing me well, somehow... Somehow I find the strength to make it through another day.
But it's never going to be enough.
I cannot pretend forever. I cannot convince myself anymore that I'm unaffected. It just crashes into you one day - God, he's gone Bryan. You left him again and where does that leave you now? Why are you always so hungry for melancholic and masochistic events like this? Why did you have to do this?
Was it for your album? For Gun? For an album most of your students will not even feel and appreciate?
The weather isn't helping either. It's always cold now. And you're awake during the night. You sleep through the day until past noon so you miss the warmth and you neglect your duties. Your job. You neglect yourself. You waited for 24 full hours before you ate again last time. You can almost feel you bones jutting out in protest.
It's just that - you know, when you're in this stage, you ask yourself who you are living for? What is the purpose of everything that you do?
It gets so bad at times that you don't even want to leave your bed. Where will you go anyway? Your bed is the place for you right now. It's the only place you can really be alone.
And yet I get to thinking why some of my friends still love me despite who I am.
You know, what teaching really taught me is how to let go. I've learned not to be attached to my students anymore. I've learned to savor each moment while it lasts and when it's gone, I can fully accept it because I've prepared myself for it. I've learned not to cry about it. Add that to what I've gone through with Esme, Hunter, and lately, Ian. I've mastered the art of letting go.
I didn't even shed a tear when my pet cat died. He was my late night companion for almost eight years and not a single tear!
I'm becoming harder and harder and numb to worries and if all the people I care for disappared in an instant, at this point, I would hardly feel the difference.
I've held on to my dreams and to my ideals for a long time - I thought they are the things which make me me - but this world has a nasty habit of melting them away from you. The world loves to see you suffer. To show you that everything will not be as you expected it to be. And now I'm darker than ever. Darker and darker, no wonder Heath Ledger committed suicide.
If I go on at this rate, after ten years I'll probably be a black hole, sucking in happiness. If I'm still alive that is.
***
See how bad it is? I talk about shit just to avoid the real problem.
And I don't even know how to mend it. Or do I have the strength to do that? Do I care at all? I don't even want to go through this for me. I don't deserve to get to the end unscathed.
***
And yet when my friends (most of them past students) ask me how I'm doing, wishing me well, somehow... Somehow I find the strength to make it through another day.
But it's never going to be enough.
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