When Iapos;m standing out in the woods in front of the artificial lake, stoned and finishing the few breaths of the menthol I�canapos;t take because Iapos;m tasting the beans ground to make the iced coffee Iapos;m drinking too intensely, writing a journal entry about deep insights Iapos;m finding into my severely flawed character feels like it should be a smooth and clear endeavor. However, as I sit here just as stoned and without a cigarette, it feels like a much more difficult ordeal. However, as I have a smooth song playing and nothing else to do on a saturday evening being entirely ostracized from the greater student body of the campus of William and Mary, I will continue.
The more I�go out into the woods to do some thinking, the more I�realize horrible clusterfucks in my being. I feel that I�can trace it all the way back to around 12 or 13, otherwise known as the period in which I�joined the forums of a website I�noticed a friend continually went to: AnimeMusicVideos.org. In the scheme of things, it feels silly to me to consider joining a forum around a subject matter I�wasnapos;t particularly interested in for outside contact would affect who I�am today so much. On the contrary, it was here that I could be exactly was at my core:�a 13 year old mad at the world because the house he lived in sucked. I was always that when I�logged on to that forum, when I�was 14, 15, 16, even after it closed on Demonseal. Between those years I had a ritual when I�got home from school: Go straight to the computer, check a few websites, and look up all the new posts on the off topic, way off topic, and art discussion. If it looked like a good place to slap an insult, scream something stupid, post an image, repeat one of my unfunny jokes such as posting entire song lyrics, and berate the opinions of those I�do not understand. Between
all those fucking years, I�did nothing to change my formula, because I�felt that I�didnapos;t need to. The only thing snapping me out of it now, I�think, is the
fact that Iapos;m getting older. I�canapos;t ignore it, especially when Iapos;m surrounded by people that seem to be making things work. One of the biggest things I�had trouble with was when that aforementioned friend, William, had to move away. He was in the exact same issue as I was: Trapped in a house he hated, and we both felt that connection between us. The difference between Will and I was that he changed, and I�didnapos;t. He had to adapt, because he didnapos;t have a friend he could lean on to act retarded with. And, as time passed, I�learned that he didnapos;t want to act like a fool forever. I did. He was out, making new friends, developing real skills and learned more about people than I�ever can at this point.
I�went over to Willapos;s house about a month before I had to set off for this campus. He moved out to a backroads neighborhood where everything seemed slightly caked with dust from the unkempt roads, and was complete with its own shooting range within walking distance. Of course, this says nothing for the sheer
familiar air his house had inside of it. All the things on the walls, the lighting, the table and chairs in his kitchen: It all had this welcoming and relaxed air that I�remember feeling as a guest in his old house. Even in his bedroom it felt nice. It was good to get back, if briefly, to the feeling that I�felt in my teen years. Then I�got so stoned I�couldnapos;t stand up and we watched Robocop in almost complete silence. He asked us politely to get going because of work or something, and my friend Rob and I left. In the month that passed after I wondered occasionally if Iapos;d hear from him again, but knew that I could never go to him as I�am now and hope to be his friend. Heapos;s moved on, lost all the weight that he needed to, and grew up. Iapos;m still working on all three. And so, I still go out into the woods and get stoned so I�can hopefully take a scrubing board and bleach to the horrible fucking things Iapos;ve learned about people and living on the internet, and Iapos;m starting with Roke.
Iapos;m not a furry, nor do I�profess to have a
fursona, but I had a
persona in Roke. Roke was everything Iapos;d hope to be in life: Short (puberty was a brutal topic for my mind), plain clothes that look generic (I always had a problem with wearing logos, still working on that one), cute-ish (heh...), had anger problems but was OH�SO�MAGICALLY�NEVER�CONFRONTED�FOR�THE
M�AND�USUALLY�JUSTIFIED, and long hair, complete with his own little cute thing to bully around and hit but it never got hurt I like long hair, but inhereted the trademark Jackson-Riffle high-forehead. This means I appear to have a wide face, large eyes, and nice but oddly placed hair... Much like a baby This look, accompanied with being the baby of the family and one of the last born to anyone in my extended family, I�grew to dislike being looked at as "the baby". So Even today, I�have long hair, and it looks, well, bad. See, I didnapos;t know this until I�came out here and was forced to look inside myself to unravel the smelly, plasma-stained gauze. Itapos;s like waking up, going about your daily routine wondering why everyone is snickering at you and you realize youapos;ve been wearing a rainbow-colored afro wig. I�have a few people complimenting me on my hair, and some saying I shouldnapos;t get it cut. But you know, when I�look at it as though itapos;s like "how distraught could they possibly be that I�get my hair cut when they have their own-fucking-selves to look after"? Iapos;m not a girl. But that leads to something funny...
I think Iapos;ll cut this entry short. Iapos;ve already written so much, and... Well... Thatapos;s getting too personal. Itapos;ll likely stick in my mind forever, so thereapos;s no need for me to write it and no need for anyone alive to read it. Iapos;ll just leave this one off with saying I�have a lot of growing up to do.
forney texas isd, forney texas map, forney texas new home, forney texas new homes.
