Well.. it's been a while...

This blog never really took off... I should either delete it or write to it more, right?

Wrong. I keep it so that when I have a thought to share with the world, I can post it, without worrying about followers or feedback. I can just know that somebody somewhere might come across my ideas, which would be pretty cool.

This post would probably single me out as just another emo fag, but humour me, please. Let me formulate my philosophical views and who knows, maybe we'll agree, maybe you'll give me something to live for, maybe I'll make you think.

Lately I've been waking up and staring out of my window, going to school and doing whatever I'm told to do until four, then going to the theatre out of habit or at somebody's request and talk to whoever's there, maybe learn something about lighting, maybe hug my almost-boyfriend-but-not (but that's another story), stay until sunset and then go home.

And as I'm riding my bike through the darkening streets on the same route I take every day, I mull over the day, and try to single out one thing that makes it different from the one before. Something that makes it better or makes it worse or makes it memorable at least. Usually it's my almost-boyfriend-but-not. Something he's said or done, not something I've done. Not a feeling I haven't felt in a while. Each day is the same. Wake up, school, see people, go home.

There are little details that change, maybe I'll take a slightly different route, maybe I'll go to Subway instead of McDonalds for lunch, maybe I got an essay back instead of handing one in, maybe I actually did some work. Each evening as I'm riding home I look at the sunset, and think that I'll never see that sunset again. And if the day was perfect I realise that it won't be the same again, because even if it was, I'd be different, I'd know that it was just a repeat of a day I loved.

And as I'm riding my bike through the darkening streets I close my eyes, trying to guess how long it'll take me to get to the corner, hoping I overestimate and speed into the main road, eyes closed, in front of a car... but instinct will always open my eyes and steer me to safety. My body won't let me die, so I push it to see how far I'll go. I wouldn't mind being hit by a car. Maybe it'll wake me up, maybe it'll kill me. Maybe both, maybe neither. Maybe I'll just go into that hospital all broken up, feeling the pain but knowing I can't do anything about it, so not caring. Knowing that I wasn't supposed to die then, so I didn't. Getting better, a different routine, but a routine none the less. And then when I was better I could go back to school and carry on my old routine, answer questions from people who'd never spoken to me before, showing off my scars, listening to my religious friends telling me that it was "God" who saved me. I'd go back, sit exams that don't matter, and move on.

Or I'd die, and that's it. I'd be dead. People would cry, people would move on, there'd be a funeral, and I'd be gone, totally unconscious of what's happened. Or I'd get to the next level. Maybe you die when you're supposed to die because if you go to the next level too soon you won't have the skills you need to deal with it, just like a computer game.

Anyway, I don't care whether I live or die. I do whatever I do purely for the enjoyment of it, or the knowledge that my English teacher won't kill me but slowly torture me, and that's something I'd fucking hate. So I'm going out in the rain now, to see if I feel real.