• 11:18 PM, Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Confidence is a most crucial ingredient in the makings of attractiveness.

It's something I sorely lack, though I don't pine for it.
I tend to act like a know-it-all because it frightens people.

At least I know, because people with confidence spilling in their wake frightens and awes me.

Making mountains out of molehills, creating non-existent issues, sometimes even playing the retard just to nurse the aching need to belong away into wonderland. It doesn't mean I'm not already trapped in a trance, only that I may very well lose my grip of the only route home if I don't commit these offences once in a while.

Fickle is my middle name. I've proclaimed I'm an attention-seeker on several posts. I've also proclaimed I'm not. But I'm not lying. I do lie, but I'm not lying on those posts declaring my status of attention-seeking, because they're the way I feel at the moment they were posted.

My posts are contradictory because I can feel saint-like one day and spiteful the next several months. When I try to ensure I'm as congruous as possible, I end up an equivocation with neither goals nor purpose in sight...not that I have them in the first place.

When I interact with others, I abuse "sorry" and "thank you" to a sorrowful extent. They've been drained of their meanings and I've done wrong to the English language. Do my "sorry" and "thank you" inconvenience others as much as the lack of them do?

Everything I do is wrong.

I recall our first presentation for our Java project. Our entire class was unaware how building an application goes about. It's more hands-on than anything, really. So, for our proposal, we could only throw in ideas we hope could impress the teacher.

I don't know what warrants an A. And if you ask if I'm desperate for an A? No. No, I'm not a perfectionist about my scores because it'll turn on me and suffocate me in the end. I try my best to keep a sane mind for a day longer because I want to appreciate my mom's smile.

Why am I working, then?

Times like this is exactly when I wish I could be someone else with their personal brand of thoughts and personality. But because I am not and will never experience this sweet temptation, I can only go by my own logic and reason.

Isn't it natural to desire a better score than not?
Would you rather a B, C, D, E or F as compared to an A?

"You say it like you could simply choose any grade you want and swish your hips as you walk away."

But, is that not the truth?
I can simply choose my grade.

As long as I study, I can choose my grade.
I can choose a F if circumstances demand.

It's my hard-earned liberty.

That's the truth behind my 4.0 GPA.
I didn't work exceptionally hard.

Just enough to choose my grade.

Following the same line of thought, I worked hard on the proposal and threw in ideas, ideas my brain thought to be innovative, not in the arrogant, obnoxious manner, but tentatively labelled as the most innovative I can come up with despite feeling they aren't innovative at all. I'd rather that than throw in sloppy, undriven ideas.

What happens?

I'm lectured for half an hour on my over-ambitious endeavours. I wasn't expecting rave reviews; I typed my proposal with just enough hard work, but my motivation was close to nil. I wasn't even proud of my hard work because it's nothing but an obstacle to knock over to obtain my liberty.

You can guess, I ended up utterly confused.
I won't deny being over-ambitious if I am, but I wasn't.

Not for this project, no.
It's nothing but a chore.

The teacher could have marked a C on my proposal and I wouldn't feel hurt; I'd only realize it's time to bring my hard work up a notch.

Is hard work wrong? Indolence is wrong, that's my hardwired ethics. But is hard work wrong? If hard work is wrong and indolence is wrong, where does that leave me?

I'm always wrong.

Like when I come to a consensus and it's wrong in some way. Those beautiful, confident creatures can do the same thing, but I'll screw up for some reason because my personality's just wrong.

My intentions are taken the wrong way (I don't have the confidence to carry them out in the first place). I see my posts as complaints, I try to explain "It's how I really feel and I'm not just an attention whore," the bitter irony gets to my tongue because, people's opinions are all that matters in the end. It's my blog, my thoughts, and then there's something compelling me to dispel any possible misunderstandings because I want people to have the purest, most raw image of me.

I'm so rotten I don't know what to do with myself.
I'm just wrong, my face, my life, my personality, me.

I scream wrong, I reek wrong, I am wrong.

I pretend and pretend and pretend to be a nice person who helps, not because it's heartwarming to see the smiles and receive the "thank you" but because it eases any guilt I have of inconveniencing others. It's all for me.

Sometimes I reach the point of thinking selfishness is nothing but a virtue when my mind threatens to go Armageddon on me with all its thoughts, relevant or irrelevant, rational or irrational, because I'm engulfed by depression and depression alone and I don't know what's what anymore and I only know to think straight again I have to care for myself before I can crawl my way back to my world of pretense and please people to live days free of guilt.

When I open up that one video on YouTube,
and I listen to Naru laugh with such mirth,
and I realize it's not Naru himself because Naru doesn't have a voice,

I smile at his antics, anyway, because nobody's drawing the line between reality and fantasy and Naru is as real as it gets and I want to stare at his gait and confess lengthy accounts of my veneration and he'll just smile and accept.

He'll accept me for who I am with all my dirty flaws and secrets.
He doesn't mind I'm never adequate for him, or anyone else, and embraces.

His blue orbs are all I see.
Sparkling blue with hair like the sun.

I like sleeping.

In my dreams I see him.
I can hug him, kiss him.

Then morning pours hot buckets of acid and god, the hours it takes till nightfall.

And I can't meet him every night.

It's funny.

The second my fingers tapped on the full-stop to complete my sentence, the waterdam broke and I don't reckon the current's been this trenchant in a while. It's broken. It's a grand flood with no signs of stopping.

I really really really wish he's real
At the same time I don't

because humans are so scary
and i don't want him to turn out scary

he's fine the way he is
we'll meet in our dreams

one day we'll meet in more than just dreams
then maybe the void in my heart will be filled.