I’ve been told that I need a hobby. I’ve also been told that I’m good at writing, so here I am, back to blogging I guess. To be honest, reading and writing is something that I enjoy, but never get enough time to do. Or rather, I never set aside time to do. I mean there’s Netflix, videogames, getting turnt, hanging out with friends, attempting to talk to girls, plenty of things that just seem much more appealing visually. It’d be fair to say that reading/writing is generally more mentally stimulating, but in a way words are just words. No excuses though! I’m going to try to write at least one post a week. I don’t expect anyone to read it, but I don’t give a fuck, it gives me something to do. Takes my mind off of shit. It’ll be relaxing. This is for me. So here goes. Hello Tumblr WordPress. I’m back!

One of the reasons why I’m so skinny is because sometimes I punish myself by starving myself. I’ve never told this to anyone cause it’s rather depressing. It’s like some days the struggle is so real, and I feel so sorry for myself that I tell myself that I’m so shitty that I don’t deserve to eat. This is a remnant of the depression and emotional insecurity that I’ve been through in my life. Everyone has their own struggles, everyone has their own vices. For the longest time, mine was having confidence in myself. I never truly felt my self worth until just a few years ago. I discovered it, and I’ve never been happier. But life does not and will not ever come without its struggles. Some days are harder than others, and on these tougher days I almost fall back into relapse, however I remember that I CANNOT let myself wallow or fall back into this pit of despair.

I was always a shy kid. Never one to raise my hand in class. I mostly only spoke when spoken to. I was, am, and always will be AWKWARD AS FUCK. That’s just the reality. For the first 20 or so years of my life I didn’t know how the real world worked. I thought you could rush love, rush relationships, blah blah blah, bullshit bullshit. As such, I always came on way too strong. Frankly, in middle school and high school I was a fucking creep. I couldn’t understand why girls didn’t like me, and why I didn’t have more friends. The good honest truth is that I never really put myself out there. I stupidly assumed that if someone was interested in me they would approach me. Every time I think back to my old life I ask myself, “how was I always such a fucking idiot?”

Well anyway, long story short, at some point between 8th grade and 9th grade I fell into major depression. The reason(s) why isn’t important at this moment, I’ll probably expand on that at some point down the road. I guess you could say I lived in a fairy tale. Deep down I believed in love at first sight, soulmates, everlasting unconditional love; basically every single cliche about love in existence. It’s safe to say I don’t believe in any of that shit anymore. I’ve become a cynical bastard.

Love ends. Relationships end. Friendships end. It’s inevitable. Maybe you’ll have two good years together, maybe you’ll have 30, 40, 50+, but it will end. Most likely with death. That’s the grim truth. But that’s just it. You can’t rely on anyone but yourself. You might have the most trustworthy or reliable friends, but at some point everyone is going to let you down in some way, shape, or form.

I wouldn’t necessarily say I learned this the hard way, but I did learn my lessons through experience. I guess the most important lesson I’ve ever learned is that I was trying too hard to find love. Girls can smell desperateness. It’s a huge turnoff. But let’s be clear, being desperate and being thirsty are not the same thing. I mean sure, they’re similar and they can overlap, but they are not synonymous. I should know, I’ve been both. In my desperation I would completely fuck things up by moving way too fast and came across way too strong. I’d try to talk to or IM girls when we barely had any sort of connection. We’d maybe exchange three words, and I’d be like “GODDAMN. IT’S A GO!” and I would try to see where I could go with it (HINT: It never went anywhere). Straight up I was a delusional motherfucker.

When it comes down to it, I just never really put in any of the work tbh. I always ended up skipping too many steps to even qualify this as laying the groundwork. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Many people have said that over the years, but truer words have never been said when describing someone. I don’t like girls, I don’t have crushes. Either I’m not interested, I’m attracted, or I’m in love. Emotions run high with this one. I have high highs, and low lows. When I get to know a girl for a short period of time, I start to think of what life would be like with her. I try not to, but I can’t help it. I get hung up on everybody.  A girl shows me attention, and I think about marrying her. Here are some egregious examples: I once told a girl who I’d been hanging out with for about a week or two weeks that I was “starting to fall in love with her;” I IM’ed a girl to tell her that I loved her (we were barely friends); I looked up a girl’s number in the town directory, called her house, asked to speak to her, then I fucking pussed out, and hung up; I told one of my sister’s friends that I barely knew and barely talked to that, “I like you and want to get to know you better;” the list goes on and on.

I’ve gotten better over the years, but like I said, I’m still awkward as fuck. Looking back I shouldn’t be surprised that I couldn’t get a girl. I was fucking up left and right. I still do. I honestly couldn’t tell you how I managed to get someone to date me for almost two years. It’s still shocking to me even three years after it fizzled out. I’ve changed a lot since then. I have all the confidence in the world, and I’m absolutely shameless now. I no longer give a shit if I make a fool of myself. Weed taught me better. Molly taught me how to dance.

The last two years I’ve come into my own. I’ve actually had girls come my way. But as you all know, I still can’t fucking close. I still manage to fuck it up. It’s hilarious now though. It’s different when you fuck up with someone who’s attracted to you. It all started last year at MIA when a girl asked me for my number. I was so thrown aback that I said, “What? Are you talking to me?” She replied with, “yeah. Can I have your number?” Now here’s the kicker. I followed up, “wait. Why?” Dead ass, I said “wait why.” Apparently she wanted to hang out with me. At that point, even after I fucked it up, I could’ve salvaged it, but guess what? I fucked up again, and input my phone number incorrectly! It’s funny thinking back on this, but sometimes I still think about her. What would’ve happened if we had hung out on Day 2? Would we have hooked up? Would we be friends? Would we be lovers? Who knows? One can speculate, but one will never know. This type of shit has happened multiple times since then, but nothing with any success except for one. You’d have to think that eventually I’d get my shit together and get it right? Well, here’s to hoping.