I'm going to take a commercial break for a second. I've caught myself staring at this computer a lot lately. And I've got this familiar feeling of complete and utter emptiness. So I'm going to stop talking about Another Breath. I'm not going to mention the record. I'm in a place that feels really similar to the one I was in about a year ago when I had the bright idea to start writing in this dumb fucking thing. I want to write to somebody. I want to talk to somebody. I want to connect to something. But what I want either doesn't exist or I'm just too blind to see it. So I'm going to do what I did on that first night and I'm going to write a letter to nobody.
Dear God,
I can't believe how much harder it is to write to you in that completely unadulterated way I felt like I could before. I sit down and I write in this because I need something. I want something. I want to show some part of myself off to the world. It was just so much easier when I was typing my letters and sending them off into the universe. I suspected anyone could read them and that idea of anyone was so random that it didn't really make a difference. But I have an idea of who reads this now. My letter isn't being written for everyone and everything called by one name (God) anymore. I know in the back of my head that I'm writing a letter to those 20 or so people who have chosen to loan their faces to that little top right corner. I know I'm writing to that cute girl that I barely know who is nothing but bad news but who makes me feel something warm and familiar. I know I'm writing to that smart, beautiful girl that I stopped talking to months ago but who still comes here for reasons she probably doesn't even understand herself. I know I'm writing to that guy who should think I'm a complete asshole because I never take the time to sit down and call him like he does for me. And I know for certain I'm being lurked by a couple of people who I've seen for all of 5 minutes in the last month who could just as easily be laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling talking about evolution, and our stupid tattoos, and our fucked up families. So I guess that changes what I decide to write. I guess I start gearing what I have to say to this audience.
I have all of this stuff to say. I have all of this stuff inside of me. Why am I typing it into this box? Why am I not picking up the phone? I know they're going to be reading this anyway. Why don't I just tell them directly. Why do I sit here late at night coding my dissatisfaction with life into this computer keystroke by keystroke? Why do I walk around with a smile on my face when the people that care about me are around? It's not fake. I legitimately feel good when they're around. But at night I get lonely. This familiar something comes back and it eats me alive. And I start trying to find something to latch onto. Its like I'm floating in the ocean in the middle of the night, alone in a life raft, blowing that dumb fucking whistle that's attached to my life jacket when I should just give up the ghost and try to get some sleep. You all hear me doing it. And when you finally ask if I need help I tell you I'm fine and ask you what your problem is. Why do I do that?
I think it's because I just don't want to talk. What I really want is something that I can't have right now - somebody I trust to lay next to me and not say a word. I don't want a pep talk. I don't need anybody to know what's wrong. I don't even need someone who's completely sane or put together. I just need to know I'm not alone sometimes. Or at least if I'm alone I need to know that someone's alone right next to me. So I guess since I don't have that I go for the next best thing. I think into an inanimate box, give myself the illusion of being connected to something or someone, and nobody says a word. We just sit here together and we listen to the music. And just like last time, we'll make it through the night. Just like next time, we'll make it through the night. How sad.
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13 comments:
Sometimes I don't know why I read this, but I know exactly how you feel.
You just described, so perfectly, how I feel a majority of the time.
you write, i read, and you are not alone.
Not to say Rae. isn't being genuine in her sentiments, but it's always interesting to see people can so often identify with someone talking about how alone they feel, and no matter how many times that similarity; that common feeling of disparity and aloneness is conveyed, the parties involved never seem to feel any less alone.
Having said that: I subscribe to the same paradox - probably for reasons I don't really understand.
... So we're all alone together. We're all alone even when we're staring in the very face of the things that could connect us. Save us. Hardcore kids are notorious for this kind of thing. We know what it means to be alone in a crowd.
So why are we all alone even when we have all these people around? My reasoning for it is because I'm too scared to bridge the gap. Everyone has their own reasoning. We all want to be connected. Some of us just don't know how. Some of us are scared. Some of us are stubborn. Some of us have just been burned too deeply by the right people.
I know this has been my issue for a long time. I'm alone but I realize it's because I keep myself so guarded. I keep everyone at a safe distance. But I'm in the process of crossing the bridge right now. Not with everybody. But with somebody. And in all honesty, it's so much harder to give myself to somebody in a real intimate and honest way than it is to hang my dirty laundry out in a forum like this. This is cake to me. One on one is waaaay harder and waaay more terrifying. Maybe that's just me though.
You can't legitimately give yourself to everybody. You can't legitimately accept everyone else's shit. These hardcore songs that we shout in each other's faces make us feel connected and in a way they tie us together. But a lot of us are still alone in the crowd. A lot of us are hiding in our ipods or in our record collections and in our pile ons. It's a great set up for people who are desperate to be close to people but terrified to be legitimately close to people. It's myspace. It's meaningless sex. It's sing-a-longs to your favorite band. It's sloppy drunken conversations late on a Saturday night. It's that stupid sheet of plastic that your grandmother puts on her couch. It's all a buffer. It's all a placeholder or an acting out of real human intimacy while at the same time trying to protecting ourselves from getting hurt. It will never touch legitimate human intimacy. Ever.
PS... that was copied from here http://abgodcomplex.blogspot.com/2008/04/lets-talk-about-feelings.html
In response to your comment, Ted,
I think it's because you're scared of rejection. But there's someone, right in front of you, who never rejects, who has always accepted anyone in "need" with open arms. I guess you really are just "too blind to see", but maybe you will eventually...
Are you talking about Jesus?
Jesus is the answer.
That was me. Apparently Taylor was logged in and I was too blind to see.
Jesus isn't real, Ted, you know that. I'm talking about an actual person that you know.
This just took a turn for the strange. Jesus is just all right with me.
Hi,
You don't know me or anything, but I've been a huge fan of your band and happened to stumble upon this blog of yours. In this particular blog you managed to describe a feeling I've had for a very long time now. I've never quite been able to put it into words like you have here. This may sound a bit weird coming from a stranger from Europe who you'll probably never even meet, but this blog has kind of helped me understand myself a little better. For that I sincerely thank you.
Absolutely stoked for the new album.
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