Aimless
I’m not sure where I’m going with this. It’s actually funny how many things I write start with that sentence. But I seriously have no idea where I’m going with this.
I never write. Here I am a motherfucker that wants be a writer, and I never fucking write. The same motherfucker that wants to be a photographer never photographs shit. And I begin to think that maybe I want to be all these things because I don’t know what I want from life. It seems that at some point I need to decide what I really want and just fucking do it. But lets not get into that.
I live a secret life. Maybe not a secret life, but a secretive life. So much that goes on in my life I won’t dare say out loud. I didn’t used to be this way. I kinda used to be an open book. There wasn’t much in my life that the important people in my life didn’t know. Now I live in secrets and lies. The lies to keep the secrets secret. I won’t dare say out loud the name of the girl I love, not even to the girl I love. Which may or may not be why she doesn’t return any of my calls. Now it’s not that I’m embarrassed by the identity of this mystery girl. It’s about things becoming real. It’s about getting into a relationship, something that I don’t want. Something that I was up front about. You’re not my girlfriend. It’s because I’m honestly too selfish at this point of my life. For most of my life I’ve not been selfish. While some people might disagree with that statement, it’s true. Atleast when it came to the girls I was interested in. I’d bend over backwards to make them happy. I’d do things to make them happy, even when they made me unhappy. I’d put other things in my life on hold, because something more important required my time. Some might say that the old Josh needed to grow a sack. And it’s probably true.
For the most part I’ve been a faithful boyfriend, I only actually cheated on my last girlfriend. I always say it was because she was such a bitch. And that justification worked for me. After all the important people in my life don’t hold it against me, because they all agree… She was a real bitch. Granted I can admit that is was wrong, that it was selfish. But god damn it, it felt good. I think the only way it could have been better would be to see her face if she ever found out.
So I guess I’m a bit mean spirited these days too. But in my defense, she was a real bitch.
And I guess she actually explains why I am the way I am. I wasn’t the first to admit that I hated who I was when I was with her, I think Sara or Nadia can claim to be the first. They probably told me while I was still with her, before I cheated on her. I probably got mad at them for it. I hated who I was when I was with her. I hate who I was when I was with her. I hate how everything else in my life got put on hold. I hate how willing I was to blow of my friends, to blow off work when I was with her.
And that explains why I’m so terrified of making anything real. I’m scared that I’ve not grown that sack. That I’ll turn back into that whiny, spineless pussy again.
I think that’s enough for today.
