The New Project 9

I rarely feel nostalgic about my childhood. I don't have a lot of toys saved. I don't remember much. I tend to just go past it. I tend to ignore, to forget. I don't look back at think "that was a good thing" or "that was funny." This is to the largest extent true about my school years. I am basically only in any kind of contact with one person from that time. Everyone else has faded into obscurity, and I don't miss them. I'm sorry, I don't. I have worked quite hard on separating my childhood and adolescense from myself, because I didn't like the time and I didn't (and don't) like who I was. But it is a part of me. Nuthin' much to do about that. Ignoring it was obviously a mistake. But how do I make up for lost time? And do I? Can I do that?

I feel like I in some ways has created myself so much. But I have done it like some sort of demiurge, some sort of idiot god that doesn't have the knowledge of what really makes a person a person that vital parts have been missed and/or overlooked. And the end result (although this isn't the end) isn't happy. The end result is not a success. It is half a man. Or like I have been pressing what I thought was shapeless clay into a mold, but it wasn't clay. It was something living that can't grow, can't survive, can't prosper, can't be, can't really exist as itself in the mold. The mold is pain. The mold is bending in akward positions to fit in it, and after a while it becomes unbearable. But to break out and to stretch out and use those now malformed and unused muscles no longer used to and for standing erect is even more painful.

And to think that I have been fighting against other people shaping me, when I have mutilated myself this way. Do you actually know that starting to listen to metal was an (almost) concious decision? Other people found music they could identify with. I chose music that gave me an ideal. How retarded is that? No wonder I hardly listen to music I used to listen to as an adolescent.

The thing is, I don't know what is left. After this, I don't know what is in my life anymore. I'm sure there is something, and probably quite a lot. But what?

Once there was some kind of hope and I felt like I could do this (almost). Now I don't know. But it is as it is. Nothing much to do about it now other than rolling witth the punches, I guess.

I feel like I should do something, say something, but I don't know what. I feel so much, but I don't know what. And I don't know how to let it out. There is a limit to what you can put on other people. Maybe they can take it all, but can I take it? Can I have that weight on me?

I feel sad. And I feel like I have been fooling myself, in some way, and that it has been made abundantly clear now. I know that is not the fact, but that is what it feels like.

Got to call a doctor tomorrow, I think.