February 2001

"So strange an outcry, thy subtle words..."

Fear is something unknown to me in recent years. I can't even recall the last time I felt afraid of something of importance. It's ironic how the circumstances of the most miniscule importance force me to worry, to feel anxiety rather than fright. In my battle to overcome this neurotic tendency, I feel I've begun my journey to find myself, to realize that I am more than just this shell of a person I chose to present to people. I am myself, yet I hide it from others to prevent them from getting close to me, hurting me in a way that I've felt so harshly before.

I tell myself that I know pain, that I've felt it time and time again in my life. I dwell on it, telling myself that these pains were brought on merely by a young boy trying to fit in and find himself in a world of strangers, and somehow its ferocity seems diminished to a point that I become numb to it. I feel it's blurred my other senses, leaving me oblivious to compassion and human kindness. I question whether or not this is a bad thing, to be oblivious to the feelings that are the downfall to so many, but conversely, are so meaningful to an expansive sea of others.

The New Year has already arrived, and I'm really worried about where I'm going. I don't really know what I want to do after high school, I don't know what kind of college I should attend, and I haven't even started on a portfolio to show to whatever college I chose. My life has no direction anymore (that's, of course, assuming that it ever did). I'm not depressed at this fact, but merely disappointed in myself for letting it come to be. I guess it's that damn Zen part of me that lives in the moment, trying not to worry about the things that stress me out. The problem is, though, that I set them aside for too long, and they just keep building up.

Lately, with the holidays, exam preparation, the introduction of my little sister to our family, and just trying to get myself together mentally, I've fallen behind everyone else. I'm afraid to ask for help, but I know that's what I need. Yet I continue to wear the mask, to act like nothing's wrong with me. Perhaps I'm just a fucked up gay boy trying to figure out who he is. Maybe I'm just oblivious to my own problems. That scares me more than anything, that something's wrong with me and I have no clue. I don't want to live this life anymore; I just want to be myself for once, and not know what it's like to recognize pain.

Maybe this year will be different.

Maybe this year will be better.

Maybe...this year...

E-mail Jerid at InsaneRENTfan@juno.com -- (At least attempt a Happy Valentine's, guys.)

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