I’m obviously high right now. And sometimes when I’m just sitting at home; with little noises of the sound of the refrigerator, or the fish tank’s oxygen tank humming on the laminate floor.
The white static of the TV. And through it all inside my head is just music. And not just music I had ever heard before. Music and sound in my head that felt like it was made just for me. With the sound and feeling of everything that I am, and everything that I like. And it was just my own. And I just wish I could take that sound in my head and turn the volume up and let others hear it. It’s just my memories making music of muddled up music I listened to throughout the day. Almost like a weird remix or mixtape, that’s a little more streamlined and blended. Just an absolutely selfish thought. And yet, thinking about it. An artist so powerful and influential that you’d want to dissect their thoughts and inspirations and dig deep into their lives to really understand them. Is that just not completely self indulgent? Wow. That was a horrible argument. What fallacy did I just commit? Definitely one categorized in the “fallacy of irrelevance” section, I’m sure. Either way, whenever I get these thoughts. I seriously wonder if I’m just a narcissist. It really just scare me. It scares me to think that I could be so sinister. Just makes me scared of myself. I fear who I am. I fear that who I really am is a horrible person and I’m too afraid to face it if it’s true. And I feel like that fear drives me to just be a completely different person. Just a person I want to be. If I want to be confident in an interview. I pick a personality I would want to have in a situation like that. Like maybe how you see a person who presents themselves well on publicized interviews. And learn the tone of voice they used, their posture, and then add your own style of elegance to it. Honestly that’s truly what I want to be. I want to be elegant. I want to be what that entails. And that is such an unrealistic expectation of myself. There is no way I can ever be the definition of elegant. And honestly it hurts that I’ve done that to myself. Because there was a lot about myself now that a person I used to be is disappointed at. And I’m disappointed in myself. And I hate the person I was in high school. And I hate the person I am now. But this time instead of crying about it. I’m trying to do something about it. I don’t want to be a coward about it. I need to face it. And if I want to change it I gotta put in the work. So here I am. Doing me. Trying to become a better person. And yet somehow it feels like I’m self indulging and I’m not contributing to making myself better all that much. I’m not trying hard enough and I need to try harder. Sometimes when I close my eyes I feel like I’m entering a video game of my own head. And I just go through an adventure where I’m the main character and I’m in control for the most part. There’s parts where I somehow lose control of my dream depending how the other characters in my dream are and how much I can picture them in my head react. And it’s just a weird scene in my head. Everyone is crouching. Just waiting. Floating. Everyone’s kimonos floating.