Tired Of Trying
Tired Of Trying
Day in and day out, I really don’t know how much I want to live…or how much I want to die. I just feel so freaking unacceptable. Either I say too much or I say too little, yet no one will tell me which is which, or what exactly it is they want me to be to them. I’m sick of the rejection! Yeah, I’m 17 years old and never had a boyfriend or been kissed or whatever and it’s because I’m awkward as fuck when it comes to that kinda thing and I mess everything up. Any other damn time I’m independent and the perfect friend, someone you can call anytime, but you don’t need to call all the time. It’s different when I actually WANT to talk to people though: there are always excuses and ‘reasons’…anything to avoid saying, “Hey, I just don’t feel like talking right now. Can I call you back later?” It’s bullshit! Guess what, people? I AM a human, and as much as I don’t like to act this way typically, I am also a woman. As it turns out, I DO get angry, bored, depressed, and even a little joyous sometimes, all of which are sometimes a nice thing for ME to share in with YOU, but not the other way around?
“Mental breakdowns”, however the fuck you want to define them, are nothing. Seriously. All these years of ignorant fools constantly in my face, laughing, crying, finding a friend in me when they had none because I’m the goddamned reject acceptor, and I never once had a meltdown…but people were always waiting for it. Guess what, guys and gals? It’s senior year, and I’ve kinda just given up. My grades are slipping because I just can’t take my brain anymore enough to take in even MORE useless information, (98% of which isn’t going to be utilized), but it’s okay because I’m the great Amber Geiger and nothing can ever be my fault: I am such a FANTASTIC manipulator that I’ve got nearly every one of those teachers in my back pocket. All it takes is a cutesy, impish grin, choice words, and an actor’s eye and BOOM: you have social connections that you can twist and shake to your benefit…which will eventually be to your detriment. I play by the fucking rules, put more than enough time and effort, and I get smacked back 5 spaces in all aspects of life because some groups of dickheads want to play on MY compassion. I try to work with the community, they nod and admire my “ambition”, (even when I succeed miserably), never taking part, of course. I play and study my music, write what I need to, practice for the plays, be the good guy in the hall even though people push me around…and where the fuck is it getting me?! No where!
The fantastic and cursive thing about Disturbed, and maybe music in general, is that you really will never know what's going on with the meaning behind it. To you it's one thing, to the artist it's another, and to the next guy it's something else. That's why music and people, I think, are the most beautiful and disgusting phenomenons one will ever experience: it's all about perspective, and what we're doing is trying to find the balance between our emotions and spirit, our mind and our brain, and the laughter and tears of both ourselves and our brothers and sisters on this mortal planet. It's all a game of responsibility versus liberty, life and death, silence and music, shame and pride, avarice against selflessness, toxicity versus immunity... and we will never know the rules, not in OUR moments here now, but maybe in another life. Yet we remain beautifully stupid and will never stop looking and listening and experiencing. We are, with psychology versus philosophy, searching for the ultimate equilibrium and forever setting our own chronic ultimatums. (<---MY band name, by the way, so if I find out you've used it, I swear to non-existing God that I WILL sue you...as soon as I have money to hire a lawyer...) We are bittersweet, my friends, we truly are. Stay foolish, stay sage-ish, for we are a dead and living paradox. ("I carry the gift that I have been blessed with. My soul is adrift in oceans of madness, repairing the rift that you have created. I am not alone: brothers give me your arms now! The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away. There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice, to change myself. I'd rather die. No they will not understand: I won't make the greatest sacrifice. You can't predict where the outcome lies. You'll never take me alive. I'm alive.") Then again, I'm just thinking again, so I couldn't really tell you for sure.
BUT, here is where I WILL blatantly state this: all relationships are ridiculous in many, many heartbreaking ways. There’s just no way around it. Your family wants you to never be angry and raise your voice at them, even when they’re yelling at YOU for being in physical pain (go figure on that one, right?), and your siblings eventually make it pretty plain that they have their own lives: they got out, you aren’t really their problem anymore, man, but you know, you should TOTALLY do this or that when they know for a fact that you absolutely cannot. Your friend…you really gotta know how to coordinate your friends, that’s just the bottom line. This one for music endeavors, that one to talk with for 7 hours, the other to just chill in the same room, yet another to merely make acquaintances with. It’s the same with girlfriends and boyfriends, ladies and germs: basically, according to this stupid-ass social standard, you should just be able to fuck them reliably. There is never going to be that perfect anybody in family, friendship, or romance. If anyone’s ever read “Anne Of Green Gables”, you, Ann, and I are all fools to think that there are true kindred spirits of any kind, and even more foolish to think that you could be one of them: if you are, you are like me –a customizable facade. Yeah, you’ll come close to what you think is one, but we just aren’t meant to be with the same people forever and ever on a regular basis. When they can predict most of your actions and emotions and you know their entire essence better than a lock knows a key, that person, in some way, shape, or form, is going to be toxic to you. Even, and especially, the nicest, most perfect of people are leaving your image of the balance of reality distorted to your detriment. Rainbows come with rain and both aren’t always reliable for anything: remember that.
But whatever. I know I’m just speaking to empty space again, until some fool comes and maybe starts talking to me, in which case, bro: I’m not fishing for anything at all. I’m kind of addicted to solitude, but my stupid knowledge and taste of society’s games is another marijuana as well. I get high off people everyday. When they’re sad or sick, I’ll be the sunny day. If someone’s just fantastic, well, I’ll generally fake that I am too so as not to spoil it for them, but inside, I just want them to take something off my shoulders for a little bit. My ‘neutral’ state is nostalgic joy, but I know that the TRUE one is this uncomfortable, almost dream-like, state of restlessness: I don’t know what to do with myself, but it really isn’t a bad thing – I just don’t know how to deal with it. I honestly could not tell you what ‘normal’ feels like, and I don’t know that if you told me I’d believe you. If we’re going to go with thoughts on that, I guess I think I’m kind of a know-it-all, and if I’m not, I want you to share things with me so I CAN know.
But the thing that pains me the most is when someone is in the worst case of emotional or mental need, and they don’t live around you, and they don’t always want to talk...how do you take that pain away then? How do you even try? I feel like such a damn broken record and an awkward creep because I just want to know that he/she is alright, but they’re far too polite to ever say anything, and they’ve said that they never would. Do you just stop talking to that person and let them talk to you, or would they think that you’re just being another one of those people who just doesn’t care? I try not to talk too much, I really do, but how do you be quiet on the phone with someone you barely know IF they decide they want to call you? In the end, though, what I’m THINKING, is that, yeah, they kind of DO need to sort out some of their own shit, as I really do mine. Yet, the paradoxes remain: you can never know who you truly are until you’ve seen the natural you to the end…and that’s just beautifully torturous.
You know, I hate being a female. I really do a lot of the time. First of all, I hate the chattiness of chicks and how stupid they are. I hate the clinginess they exhibit for stupid reasons. I hate 98% of the clothing and ‘music’, and I hate how WE are generally the ones who are biting our nails and gritting our teeth all because other people don’t know how to speak up for themselves as much as they should.
I don’t know; as much as I’d love to see myself proven wrong about life and those little moments that are supposed to make it worthwhile, I’m a big hypocrite in at least one thing: I just don’t know how worth it it is to just kick back and accept all the shit it’s encased in while politics come into play and we see what we don’t have as ‘unfair’. That’s why I have so much respect and admiration for Sigmund Freud: he was a majorly Disturbed, pained, humiliated bro-skii, but he was brilliant on just so many levels. One of them was for trying to figure out his very own brain.
-_- Fuck, dude: I totally get you. But I better watch out because no matter where I am, someone will always make you feel like even your inspiration is unacceptable.
“All I ever wanted was to be a real source of compassion for the moment that we found ourselves drowning in…”
-your Satan Maiden \m/
P.S. Music is actually kind of a really bad thing unless you feel like making it yourself: you honestly can’t find solace in anyone else’s pain or happiness because there are just way too many factors to consider as to why they are them, and why you are you. This planet and these people are all just pieces of a puzzle we will NEVER put together because some big thing’s soul is made up of each and every animal and object. We just can’t understand how much there is to relate to.