It's funny how sometimes I forget that not getting a lot of views can be a good thing. Like right now, when I've already wangsted all over twitter and GDC and facebook, and have illicited no interest from anyone to ay least talk to them about the thing that has me frustrated. And boy, am I frustrated. I haven't been this frustrated in a long time. It makes me imagine stupid things, like trashing my room, or looking like Darth Maul or going Super Saiyan Pure Evil Vegeta style.
I would love to explain, but the fact of the matter is that it is very rarely the case for a post to get zero views. That means I'm not free to just say anything, because in some cases, that is, the ones that have nothing to do with Russia, I have an idea of who may be reading these words. I say this all the time, actually...so if you had an idea that this post would be linked with the others where I complain about some entity I keep anonymous, you're absolutely right. This is another episode in that saga.
Honestly I'm tired of keeping the aforementioned secret. I'd love nothing more than to talk openly about this issue I'm having, but I'm not ready for it. I'm not ready for that at all, I don't think. Because of that though, it's frustrating that finding help is so hard, since due to the necessary secrecy, many of my typical avenues are closed to me. I'm kind of going at it alone, not that it isn't what I'm used to. It's just frustrating that that's the way it has to be right now. I can't really get help until it's too late.
But allow me to devolve into less sensical talk.
I'm sick of being fictional. I'm sick of being still life. For once, I'm sick of being intrigue, but in this instance only. My thoughts and my hours are being sent to one distant point, and nothing returns. It would put a strain on anyone's soul I think. Doing it is one thing, but doing it like this is another, much harder thing. There's even less of a head on the shoulders. It sucks being a sideshow or a subplot in the life of someone who's your main conflict this season. It frustrates me because I see little bits and pieces of the main picture, but not enough to where my mind can comprehend the fact that these things matter. No, my mind still wants to believe everything is equal...and that's a painful lie to maintain.
It's actually a theme in general that things are placed out of my reach to the fault of no one. Viewers here and on YouTube, friendship, and of course this, in the most literal sense possible. If I just had a stool, I could reach this shit...but I can't find one right now. I wish I'd stop talking myself down from stuff too. Sometimes I wish the words weren't there to make me accept whatever's going through my brain...and instead I'd do something totally whack.
Why? Because as we speak I'm watching something happen from inside a box made of thick glass. I can see lips moving, and I guess I can tell what they're saying...it's nothing really, and yet it twists and turns inside me. I know context, I really do, and though this is a simple matter, my mind does not fully comprehend what it is I am seeing. The fact that this glass is thicker than usual worries me...panics me. I can see out. I can bang on the walls and scream and yowl, all without the things I'm watching even knowing nor sparing a thought toward my attempts to reach out with them.
And if the glass weren't there? I honestly don't know if it would be any better. I'd say yes, because in the end, we are human, and we accept that. I guess there's still the glass though, it just has holes in it and now I can be heard. Those holes, for me, seem like craters. When they open it's like apertures open up in the whole world, not just some pin pricks. It's weird how much better it is than...this. This watching, looking on, seeing the emotion, and banging on the walls because I just can't understand it, even though one part of correctly inteprets all of it as nothing.
Why the fuck did this happen to me anyway? This goddamn heart will be the death of me, I swear.
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