I never really tried to write a personal song. What I thought was personal turned out to be quite opposite and pretty generic. Glad I changed that then; back to “work”—or should it be “fun” since I can’t imagine loving anything I do more than writing? :)
I had a great day with great ideas popping in my head throughout it. I was looking forward to writing an assortment of whatever tonight, and it being a lot better than lately. Unfortunately, I don’t feel that way anymore.
I talked to a formerly close friend who apparently hates or extremely dislikes me now. I guess in some ways she has reason to, seeing as I did do something pretty messed up, which at the time I wasn’t thinking about and have now apologized for, but I understand apologizing is not always enough. But she also doesn’t see my point of view; she doesn’t know how hard it is for me to really actually trust someone, and the minute she lied about something, which was for a completely illogical reason, I truly felt like I couldn’t trust her anymore; I still do. She said she only lied about that one thing, and I think she lied about a few others, whether or not she knows I know, but I really don’t care about that. What somewhat bothers me about the whole thing is that she can’t even see my side for a second. I see hers, and understand I was an asshole, and if she’s reading this now: I am honestly sorry.
She said that I changed/am changing. I guess that’s true, but when isn’t everyone changing? People become stagnant in their personalities, but I don’t think a person ever stops evolving, and I guess in my case, devolving?
She said I didn’t care about my friends anymore. I actually take offense to that; I always care about my friends, whether I still hang out with them or I have a new closer group that surrounds me now. I also don’t only have her group as my friends, but a lot more who have lately been a helluva lot more fun to be around since they had no drama surrounding them, where they lived wasn’t in the dead center of nowhere, and I had fun doing WHATEVER with them. With her friend group, I used to feel this way. Yet recently it had become plagued by a lot of problems: my best friend and she just split up leaving me in an awkward position, one of my Greenpoint and older best friends and I haven’t spoken in months because of God knows what (and I’m trying to fix that one today), and lastly, I just stopped being so loud and obnoxious all the time like my friends were. I mean I still am now and then, but sometimes the loudness and things said are just too much for me.
I’m not sure why I posted this. Maybe I had more that I wanted to get out than I actually thought I did, but at this point the subject is moot to me. Maybe if she reads this she’ll understand my point of view a little better. Maybe not.
This year in Religion class—which I regularly loathe—we studied different philosophies of morality. The material we read and discussions we had intrigued me to no end (except for that one kid who just spews legitimate nonsense and noise from his mouth). But after spending so much time on the morality perspectives of Aristotle, Immanuel Kant, and John Stuart Mill, I became interested in deeper topics of philosophy—not just the “what would you do?” case-by-case scenarios. I began to read outside material and am currently in the home stretch of a book called The Book of Dead Philosophers by Simon Critchley, whose wit could not be wrier. In that book, he details the lives of over 190 philosophers, from ancient Greece up until present day. Right now, i’m in the latter half of the 20th century, and most of the philosophers are obsessed with life and death, and the connection between the two. Generally, most believe that death shouldn’t be worried about and not thought about until it is time for it. There are a few standouts, however, who are terrified of life and therefore do not live it to the fullest.
Although I still have to read about many recent philosophers, I’ve come to my own conclusions about life and death: death continues life, in an obviously, extremely different manner. Throughout life, if one worries about the constant closing in of death, then one’s life cannot whatsoever be lived completely and fully. When I was really young, I could never sleep each night completely because of my constant contemplation of death. And then I almost died in second grade, but was narrowly given a second chance through a serious and risky surgery; I haven’t thought of death since and I sleep as peacefully and deeply as a blacked out drunk.
The point is that death, when thought of during life, only gets in the way. It’ll come when it’s supposed to, and never sooner. And when it comes, make sure you’ve lived a damn good life so you can die a damn good death and be at peace with everything as much as you can.
Some days I wish I were an animal. Animals don’t have to deal with learning what the derivative of an equation is; they don’t need to discern what the force vectors are on an object whizzing by in two dimensions; and most often do not have to deal with their emotions and petty bullshit.
Today I wish I were an animal.
