Have you ever thought that nothing was real?
That every single living being was completely fake in our society's "reality"?
How the hypocritical mass of existence is only there to entertain all of the other hypocritical masses?
How human beings only look out for themselves?
How so many people fit the mold, even if they don't feel as if they themselves fit the mold?
Have you ever noticed that the people with any different perspective are shunned?
How those people are looked at as awkward and strange?
What about noticing how extremely intelligent people are thrown to the curb and stomped by people who are so good at memorizing books and mathematical problems?
Did you ever notice the way that popular turns into rubbish, and then turns into popular?
How about watching yourself be a stepping stone for others?
I guess that I am just full of questions.
I have just seen myself as the person who gives others a good time. The person who gives people happiness, but is then just pushed away. I suppose that this is okay for me personally, because I get bored easily, I like to help people, and I honestly can't stand most human interaction. Strange, since I seem so outgoing, is it not?
I suppose that this post is only of my thought process and consciousness, which is surely alright.
I just want to know why I push the people who I actually am interested in being actual friends with away, and to the point where we never really talk. When we do, it's awkward. I just don't understand why I help people to understand themselves and press them toward what they truly want and love, yet I, myself, happen to create destruction for, well, myself.
And this is not saying that everyone who I've strayed away from are people who I have been admiring from afar, because there are people out there who are just no good. But really, I remember certain people and I just cannot understand, even with how self-analytical I am, why I desire to push away from those people, yet be so eagerly attached and pulled to them from a, what might now seem creepy distance. But I promise it's not really at all creepy, just a wish that I had pushed that picnic to happen, or a wish to have not so greatly detached myself from that ever embracing hug that generated true delight from either party, yet I would never show my emotion.
I am never satisfied.