• 2:11 AM, Thursday, January 26, 2012

Naruto makes everything spin the right way.

It's a tad too late for screenshots of the latest episode for I've an early morning tomorrow and I don't have enough coherency left for a proper review, anyway. All I want to know is, is it possible to get drunken and giddy on unadulterated joy?

I've been singing my lungs out ("All the young 'uns said, we're too young to die"), reading till my eyes hurt (NaruSasu / SasuNaru / cat!SasuNaru, whatever floats your boat) and basically, it's been a very Naruto day.

Guilty?

Yes.

Why yes, that I am. It's Candle Sho's birthday today. (It's already over, though.) Speaking of which, I've been seriously lagging in the Arashi fandom. My life the past few weeks has been utterly random. Y'knw, with the MU fiasco and "Oh-em-gee I didn't sign up for this" and all.

I've this feeling recoiling, icy cold, that I can't (and probably never will) gather enough motivation to start things on my own, stir up a tempest etcetera. I'm simply never good enough for myself.

What I think is fickle as a light bulb, what I do is never the best course of action I can take in the given situation and what I speak is nothing but a ton of eloquent garbage. The only thing I can value are my words, eternity in itself.

That's probably why I like hiding behind my screen, why I detest social interaction in general. My actions, the way I carry myself in front of others; I'm an inconsiderate prick.

Now, I know I've vowed never to belittle myself for the sake of preserving what little sanity I've left, but it is the blatant truth. I'm dirt scum, grabbing for gold. I don't know what keeps people talking (to be honest, I don't see the point in talking "just to pass time" because I'm more concerned about replenishing my already low water supply and my non-existent tolerance for liquid intake) unless it's about a heated topic of common interest or debate of some kind (please cease your haughty views on Naruto and Sasuke, because their bond is more than what you or I will ever experience in this lifetime or maybe nine times over).

So, what do I do?

It's pretty rude to be ignoring others when they're trying to act like the civilized people we all (deceive ourselves) are. By that I mean, striking up useless banter. Noise pollution. Unsightly butchering of the English language.

I do prefer not being talked to at all.
So, I come off as anti-social. Prideful creature.

And though I can (and will) never deny the latter, my brother stroke a chord within me during our late night conversation the other day. Unless I'm self-sufficient and brainy enough to tough it out (climb my way to CEO, set up my own business), I'll need connections to survive in this world.

It's, in a word, disconcerting.

It doesn't help that I'm strangely suspicious I'm suffering from SPD (which is what my angsty self had been moaning about in the previous post). Oh hail the list of disorders! It'll never halt its growth at this rate.

Sigh, I don't know, I'm exhausted.

Acting like everything's all right in order not to worry others is one thing, but to keep up for appearance's sake? There's no drive to fuel this paperthin pretense.

No one, aside from close ones, have any idea it's my shell they're dealing with. It pleases me in a sick kind of way, though I'm sure everyone has a few skeletons in their closets.

But now, I honestly don't want to care about opinions anymore.

"Won't they think I'm being clingy?"
"What if they think I'm seeking attention in the 'Look at me!' manner?"
"Am I boring them?"
"I'm a deadweight, aren't I."
"I'm causing this awkward atmopshere."
"I know you don't like me. I'm dying to tear myself away to save you all."
"Well, I'm sorry I'm even here at all."
"It's tough dealing with me. Sucks to be you."

(And somewhere along the line they morph into statements! Not even rhetorical questions, but solid statements. I love you, insecurity. I really do.)

These are just...a fraction of my thoughts.
And they're the mildest of the bunch.

Some deep-rooted thoughts, the type that's supposed to make you think "Oh shit, I'm crossing the line to uncharted territory," supposed to make you tremble for even thinking such atrocities... They're what make me. I'm not terrified of them. It's calming to have them by my side.

For the longest of time I'd been ashamed of my disorders. I don't blame them, I don't blame me for bumping into them, but y'knw how society goes about with its "Out with the freaks, the queers, the weirdoes!"? I loathe being singled out. I want to blend into the background, a nondescript face, unrecognizable and safe within the confines of synonymity.

But I guess, it doesn't matter anymore.

The list just keeps growing, I doubt I'll keep this facade up much longer.
It's funny how fake human kindness can get when it used to be so pure.

Like others are going to judge someone for not catering to the emo kid (so pitiful, no friends, no one to talk to) when in reality, nobody really cares at all. And for the record I see nothing but red (crimson, vermillion, somebody's on a roadtrip to hell) whenever someone remarks, "Why so emo? Smile!"

The negative connotations associated with "emo" in our tiny dot of our country is something I do not see eye to eye with. If my disorders are anything to go by, I'm anything but a blessed kid who spends all day moping and acting unhappy because there's nothing to be unhappy about. That's twisted logic for you.

Okay, so yes, I'm blessed with the best (pardon the f bomb) fucking family and was raised in a loving environment, but from what I've read from books and the internet, apparently disorders can settle and wriggle their way into your lives without warning or reason.

I'm fighting every day, I've nerve-wracking mood swings for a reason and I endure whispers and laughter with nothing but gritted teeth and clenched fists. I say it hurts, but in this era where emo kids are ever prevalent, it's difficult to be taken seriously.

It really, really hurts, like there's a gaping hole in my chest that'll never close up.

Tell me, what am I supposed to do?

If it's every man for himself, obviously I'm not going to care that I'll inconvenience others by not acting chirpy and/or having a few screws loose by playing around like an idiot. It's about the only way I know how to live my social life.

(And here I think, I shouldn't care about others. But somehow, I can't just inconvenience others. One side argues my upbringing was fantastic, mom did an awesome job of drilling manners into her little girl. The other side is nonchalant, scoffs, even. "You're doing this for materialistic purposes. It's how the world rolls, so you go along with it.")

I want to cry on Naru's shoulders so badly, you don't even know.
Squeeze him so bad, have him pet my head, place soothing circles around my back.

God, how can I fall harder in love with an animated character than a member of a Japanese boy band? Because an inanimate character is truly universal when pitted against a celebrity? This is madness.

I love you, Naru.
I'll whisper into my pillow every night.