Eureka!(?)

I'm a bit fearful that I'll never reach that "Eureka!" moment in one's life where they
sit back whilst doing something they love and say to themselves,
"This is what I was meant to do."

Whether you can find a career doing it or at least consider it a hobby, the things I like to do
are well....
either destructive or non-existent.

I like writing, but I don't think I'm good at it.
I like partying, but who doesn't?

I want to do something that can change the world or
at least "a" world.

But how do you do that at a party?
How do you do that getting someone involved in Pokemon or Kingdom Hearts or stupid, half complaining blog posts?

Later Days, Longer Nights

Not That Way

I feel like I'm cold to you
I've laid in the sun too many days to be that way
I'm not sure if it'll go away

You move me to try
Otherwise I'd make myself remain content with a routine I've seen in other's lives
I feel the silence of my footsteps striking the city pavement
Lifted when you're around
The quiet reminder that I am by myself when I'm doing something simple:
Running Errands
Eating Lunch
Waking Up

There's passion lacking violence even when we argue
I can't wait to leave myself when you step in the door
The unfairness
Gone

And I still feel cold

I may be imagining this
______________________________________________

I wanted to write a letter to someone, but I couldn't think who. There's something I want to say, yet it isn't fully formed, so I refrain.
This song feels like your hand is softly touching my face.
And I can smell the light, sweet scent of your perfume enter my nose.
I rub my face against your cheek like a cat.
The blinds in my room keep the Sun's light from spilling in, but some rays get through, revealing tiny strands of lent dancing in the air.

I can see a thousand stars in your eyes. I died there before, with a smile.

The songs over.

Later Days, Longer Nights

Nett'e

I disowned my mother a couple weeks ago.
I'm 22. I've been emancipated for 6 years.
All after Thanksgiving, after another round, It hit me....

For 22 years, I've been treated badly.
My mum will say the meanest shit about me, so much that it becomes true.
The only thing she ever wants from me is money.
After another round, It hit me...
She's never said she was proud of me. Never happy with any of my accomplishments.
During that car ride to her job,

I said, "I don't feel like I know you. I don't know where you were born, what you went through at school, like shit, I don't even know my own father. Not even his name. I do know he's dead, and I'm not sure who'll go first between me and you, but if its you, I want to know who are...not to be nosy, but to know who my mother is and how we ended up in this crazy life, how you pulled through alone....all of it."

She remained silent through the whole ride.
The next time we spoke, it was as if I never said a thing about her past.

I don't know if I'm doing good, if ever.
I take my victories and apply them to the next challenge.
Yet, I think I would feel a little better about all the lying and trickery if she at least said,
"Well, do what you got to do Dominick, I love you anyways."

What am I doing half of this shit for? Just so I can make it to graduation with a nice ass career waiting for me, just to hear her say "You got that $2000 for wrecking my car?"

I feel like this is why I don't believe people when they say "Im sorry"...or just about things in general.
I think everyone's lying except when it comes to money...and you can still lie about that too.

She won't be disowned forever. That's my mother and I love her more than I hate her, but I need time to think about me and to not worry about her, time to repair my energy and my trust issues with people who are unintentionally filling her spot.

Later Days, Longer Nights

This Time

Last weekend I ended up at some sweat box courtesy of my two roommates.
It was an event I was all too familiar with and I usually enjoy myself at places like that,
but this time I didn't.

Last night I had to run some equipment to my friend for his photo shoot and ended up talking to some of the participants there before he came out.
We all talked the "little talk" that I loathe, but It wasn't the same.
I didn't feel the same.

Today I walked back from the library after printing out some document and realized that this time last year I couldn't get caught in the rain.
I wasn't wearing jeans or a Killer's t-shirt. I didn't have the option to.
This time last year, I was afraid and in some place I shouldn't have been.

I haven't been the same since then I noticed.

Whereas I used to take risks with no stalling, talk the way I wanted to talk, and generally felt more inclined to be me, I stopped doing that.
It isn't growing older either or maturing....I abandoned myself in public.
I only like myself in private or with people who already know me.

That last line is about as far removed from a masturbation joke as possible, but if the thought ran across your mind, I'll forgive.

__________________________________

I like me.
People like me.
But often, it feels like I need outside validation, when I really shouldn't, but it is a good thing to have.
For example,
serial killers feel they are in the right. They like what they are doing and only need validation from themselves.
That's a powerful thing, yet wrongly used, for if they trusted someone, a person who's validation is necessary for them to start (or continue) their murderous reign, then they won't kill people if they feel it's wrong to this significant person.
Mind you, they can also say fuck that guy and keep on stabbing, but I digress...
I never needed validation. I didn't need it a year ago.
Today, I can't say the same thing. It was purely unintentional, the need for validation.
It's a pity as well because I used to be so good at not needing others, that in turn, they liked me for riding my own wave, this gaining their validation anyway.
I want to change because I will change.
Last year isn't anymore. I'm here still. I'm comfortable in my own skin and with the things I like, why not extend that?
I shouldn't be afraid of that place. I grew stronger in other areas from it, yet suffered a blow in the one spot I loved the most: Being Me.
I can't be anyone else. I can't talk like anyone else. I can't dress like anyone else. I can't live like anyone.
I never felt like anybody and I used to like it that way, way better than I do now with whatever I'm doing.
This time around, I know what's wrong, thanks to the rain outside and my awkward accounts.

Later Days, Longer Nights