Now your lost...

Sometimes something comes along and touches a part of your soul. Opens up a door in the hotel of your head. That's the way I see it at least, a big house, big rooms, little rooms, locked rooms and open rooms. People come and stay and leave, sometimes saying goodbye other times just disappearing into the night. Some rooms get smashed up and broken, and others get organised and cleaned. There are rooms for everyone, rooms for services and rooms for only you. The windows are the parts that gets to me though, windows to the past and future, to places you'd like to go and places you've never been. To impossible places, and impossible ideas. Some views move and change and flow and some are as still and solid as ever.

It’s funny the things that can open doors though, sometimes it’s the right smile at the right time opening back up that door you've had closed ever since she broke your heart, sometimes its seeing your own reflection, seeing how you have changed, or haven't changed. This time it was a song though.

Frank Ocean - Lost. If you haven't listened to it, you should. Just on the off chance it does what it did to me, to you. I can remember the exact moments I heard it the first and second time. The very first time it was played off a mobile phone in my crappy car, the sound system died a while back, and I talked the whole way through it. Looking back I think I was too focussed on the company and the conversation to really listen to it. The second time it hit me, it put an image in my head of a dance, flowing hair and cool calm colours on the walls, low level lights and good feeling in general. Today, it was played up four short stairs, on iPod dock right at the right moment, when I was in the right mood, where it could take me by surprise and lock my thoughts into one smooth fluid direction. Smooth and fluid direction, it doesn't sound quite right but it’s the only thing that fits this. With how my head works, it is an impressive feat for a single song.

Emotions are a fickle thing, because even when they aren't real, if you feel them they exist. This is the basis for waking up in fear from a nightmare or elation from a good dream. It didn't happen, the rational part of your brain is so very aware that it didn't happen but the emotion was there, we still felt what we felt and thought what we thought. I yearn to float in a void of indifference when it comes to emotion.

I am tired, not from lack of sleep but lack of reality. It’s not that I am unhappy, I have a pretty good lot in life, I love in a comfortable little home, I have a job I don't hate and pay that allows me to live some form of the life I’d like to. Good people, some of whom I respect and others that I call my friends. I have a family that cares and best friends whom I love. It’s not that I am unhappy; it is that I cannot stop this constant stream of thoughts, and maybe this is what everyone is like and I am just ill-equipped to deal with it. I berate myself constantly, for not being better, for not being able to fix things, for not being able to control my thoughts and emotions. For not sleeping, not losing weight, for being so angry, or insulting, for not having more friends, or people that think as highly of me as I do them. It’s a constant monologue of personal and insistent abuse, stemming from inside my own head and out of the handful of things that make it stop. That let me have peace and quiet and calm none of them are permanent. This normally works; I normally have this urge to type, and write the noise out of my head. Music can drown it out, and good books can let me escape. Good company can let me float, real conversation can help me focus and physical contact can shut the noise out for hours at a time. But none of it is consistent. Nothing works forever. Books become tiresome, friends leave, words are too hard to type, music causes pain and sex makes me feel guilty. So if I appear disgruntled or confused or on the verge of some form of break down this is why. Because I may not consider myself good enough for a lot of things, friendships and jobs and adventures, but more than anything I don't consider myself good enough for the life I have. This is half of why I am constantly trying to be better. To do better by others and encourage others to do the same. I want to wake up in the morning and feel like I am me, that's okay, and that I can have this without feeling like I need to do more.

Which I suppose brings me to something that's been bugging me ever since it was said. "You are amazing" because I got something that would make someone feel better. I replied with the truth, I'm not amazing, I just try and see things as, if it were me what would I want someone to do for me. She laughed and said so you are Jesus and I jokingly replied with Nope, he's a lot better at fishing then I am. I'm not a saint, I don't even pretend to be, and there are days where I want to punch anyone who needs anything from me. I do what I do to be better, or at least pretend to be better, because helping people feels right and its never wrong if you do it the right way. Girls or guys too, I'll address that right now. There was a moment in English class way back in year 11 when I offered to help a girl with her assignment, and an asshole loudly remarked that I would have helped him too if he had tits. No. I will help anyone I can that really needs it, and I told him the same. Did he walk up and ask me for help? No. He was a dick and expected it to work for him. It’s the same everywhere I have worked. Need Panadol? Or as drink, or your broke and can’t afford lunch, or it’s pissing down rain and you don't have a non-soaked way home. Then I’ll be there if I can be. But don't give me that, you only help chicks bullshit. Because I do the same for people regardless of gender. That's not being a saint either, that's trying to be a better person then what I feel like, which most of the time is scum.

Some days I don't know if everyone else is on a pedestal or I am just a few feet down in a hole my mind has dug looking up. Some days, I’m standing higher and others I’m on even ground but most I’m sitting low. I’m trying to be better at this life business buts it hard work. I get told to look after myself for a while by the people that know and care, but I can’t do that. I just don't work that way. I will always consider other people more important, and not because I am a saint, but because I think I am a sinner.