The Pretender

I'm taking a leaf out of another blog to decipher exactly how I'm feeling. Full stop. Here goes...

I feel like no one understands me. Most of my friends don't get who I am, how I withdraw, how I need time alone, how silence is me prolonging my thoughts from becoming reality, that I know will hurt someone else. It's the way I deal. And this misunderstanding leads to contempt. It seems to be how my friendship circles work. Sweeping emotion under the carpet probably stems from my family, but you know, how cliche right? Blame your problems on your upbringing...

I'm getting better, I must admit, attempting to just face things as soon as they arise, instead of dwelling, but fuck, I still feel like shit when I can't have perfection.

I'm starting to resent being gay. Just too much crap. And I'm not talking about relationships. Just dealing with everything. Perception, expectation, love, boundaries, freedom... It's all a whirlwind that I just do not... Do Not... have time for anymore.

I'm proud. Proud of how far I've come in terms of work (as mediocre as retail whoring is). But you don't see people my age, where I'm at, handling the things I do, with the respect that I have (in retail). At the same time, I'm incredibly impatient and always feel like I'm lagging behind, with brick walls erected at every pathway I have. And I feel like I've worked to hard, with not enough fun, not enough friends, not enough life, with no means to go back. Even Cher couldn't turn back time...

I've become so easily emotionally reactive, that the slightest glitch in my life can upend me from a booty shaking Beyonce into a decrepit Kelly Clarkson singing fuckin' 'Irvine' with a glass of red in one hand, cigarette in the other, flicking through Vogue, looking at everything I can't have and everything I want to be (not that I would want to be a Fendi handbag, but being that Hugo model wouldn't go astray).

I always attempt to connect to music. To find someone who knows exactly where I'm coming from. The result being my freakin' depressing mix on iTunes, filled with the most tear-jerking, heartache songs of the past decade. As much as popular culture is my saviour, it's just as much my poison.

I'm Aquarian. And as Paulina says, they're dreamers. But they always seem to be people who have a go at something, only to not complete it (perhaps from being impatient). So do Aquarians know exactly how to handle failure? Or are all Aquarians living in constant disappointment?

My confidence is acting. And my arrogance is ill-found. My pretentiousness is unintentional. And my appearance merely cosmetic to disguise the blemishes. I'm a poser. I can look great in photos, I've got that down to an art. But when the picture is moving, the thousand words tell a totally different story. A story of a moody boy. A commitment-phobe. An impatient climber. A pretender...

So that's how I feel. How I see myself. God. Give me some popular culture to blog about like the old days.