I’m all surrounded by this phony culture man, I feel dangerous like the guy who shot Lennon six times in the chest. I have a big something against phony-ism, it just feels too synthetic.
There are a lot of things inside my head. I’m scared about my future. I’m scared of screwing up again. I’m afraid to take chances. But I couldn’t care less. I just frightens me a lot ever since I was little, about my future. No security. I’m not worried about myself. A lot more about my family. I’m the older kid, and my brother’s doing fine, I guess. But I’m more of a bipolar person..
I don’t see anyone on the both sides of my family who truly supports me. My mom and dad is an exception though, even if they don’t fully understand what it do. I hope they forgive me for being such a useless firstborn. In every family reunion I feel inferior compared to some of my cousins. They always said I showed much promise but now, I don’t think so. Much like in school I’m a defunct member of my family, a black sheep. Sometimes I prefer being alone rather than coming to family gatherings because, just saying, I don’t feel that comfortable. My cousins are somewhat distant to me but for some few exceptions. It’s just that they’re just so proud of what their kids do and I don’t get that a lot. It depresses, thinking about that.
They think I just roll around all day. They don’t even know I write. I don’t know, I’m frustrated. When I’m gone I’m gonna shove it all into their face, saying ‘I’m fucking alive when I was around, you just didn’t give a shit.’ Just because I dropped out of Scihi in my senior year doesn’t give me a ticket that I’m incompetent. Or am I, really? I have mixed thoughts about myself. Some nights, I don’t feel like living at all. Some nights I feel like just flying away and become someone else. Someone who doesn’t have to put up with himself and his constant bouts against his dual ego.
I feel useless. I feel unappreciated. Maybe that is a reason why I have so much in my plate, everyday. I’m always trying to busy myself, up and around. Out of the frustration to become appreciated, I go and find a place to be one. Out of the frustration to get noticed by a family that looks down on what I do, or never gave me such great promise.. It’s depressing. It’s depressing, really. It always gets the best of me.