The more time I spend alone, the more I start worrying i’m turning into one of those people on the little screen. Capturing their little moments and making me feel all little inside, sometimes it seems the only way to success is to be as little as they are.
I think the eternal struggle of being gay is to not turn out a total cunt
I don’t know where to go or what to do. I don’t know why I pressure myself so much to hide myself from them. It’s makes me so angry just to hear them talk. The banging of the egg whisk from my mum in the kitchen, or the exhaling of my dad as he slumps on the couch. I feel like I never broke through their barriers when I was in high school and now it’s creeping up on me. I’ve made strides in every part of my life apart from my home life. The only thing holding me back. My room is blank, the walls are white and bare apart from an anonymous painting like you’d see in a furniture shop. The whisk keeps beating and my dad keeps exhaling and I realise what this is doing to me. Do I want to turn out like them? No. So why do I subscribe to there shit? The more I start to do what makes me happy around them, the more I will like them. The more I explode the less I will sound like an angsty teen. The more you stop caring, the more you will grow.
Yes, it’s distracting, and yes it’s overwhelming but perhaps it enables us to find what we are -really- interested in. We are simply forced to pick and choose the information we enjoy and run with it. There is simply so much we are bombarded with, that perhaps it strengthens us,