I'm sitting at home, after just getting back from my friends' place, drinking a cup of hot milk, and thinking about life. Not in the general sense, but more in the nature of it.
I was reading some of my old posts and while I felt completely foolish when I wrote them, I read them again and feel as though I was wise beyond my years and I have regressed. I am not longer able to put words in to a stream that makes people think. I write about boys. I write about problems. I have not written recently about the little beautiful things that life has to offer.
Little things like the hot milk next to me. It is in a Norman Rockwell mug that I picked up from DI and it tastes like heaven right now. Why can I not remember to blog about things like that, instead of this boy or that (not that there are enough to make up a this and a that...).
Something that I have found is that I am just so completely insecure with who I am sometimes. When I blog it is because I know that I have felt what it is like to be Me when I am doing it so I attempt to recreate that feeling. However, that just results in me sitting at home alone on a weekend blogging about being lonely...just not bueno. I need to write about living again because when you write about living, it becomes integrated into your mind and eventually into who you are. I feel like I knew myself better in high school. Maybe that was because it was a safe environment. It was almost as though I was living in a lab, I could experiment with things and the consequences were minor if any. When I played with fire, I got burned. Now I avoid such things like the plague here...which results in a very gunshy me. How fickle my heart.
I have made myself a promise, and writing it on here is the same as sealing it in blood. My promise is to be honest in everything I do. I made that promise at the beginning of the year, but I make it again because it is always a work in progress. I will be honest in my dealings with fellow men and in my dress and speech. Too many times I say something to make someone feel more comfortable (that someone knows what they are talking about) or because I want to seem "cool". But no. That is all over. Life is art and art is never dishonest. The essence of art is that you are trying to tell your version of the truth, your paradigm, to the world and present it in a way that makes people think about their paradigm. I want to live my life in a way that people know exactly who I am and in a way that makes people question what they are doing. Not in a way that makes them change, just enough to make them understand who they are and how they got there.
That is all for tonight, hope it makes sense. I haven't been up this late in a while...