Candidness

I feel guilty because it's been so long since I've posted and I'm getting worse and worse about posting as the months go by.

I think I know why.

You see I've been posting a lot on my tumblr lately (yes, I know, spare me your disgust and revulsion), and it's because- I have less respect for tumblr. I don't feel like it demands high quality, long, well-thought out posts, like blogspot does. It's just tumblr. I can be silly there, casual and candid and low-key. I reblog stupid sayings and sexy pictures and act every bit like the idiotic nineteen-year-old I am. I feel like I'm not being judged on tumblr, and I've got no one to impress. In fact, I've been getting more and more lax about what I put up there. I'm usually pretty uptight about what I post on the internet. Not big on a whole ton of personal details or pictures of myself or just- I don't know. I don't get into detail about the stuff in my life that is super personal. And with good reason. You never know who's reading what. Thinking about it now, I really just oughta go and delete a whole bunch of stuff from my tumblr right now. Not even because it's necessarily all that bad, it just might give people the wrong impression. Or the right impression that I don't want them to have...

But honestly, it feels good to be candid. I don't like hiding stuff. I like to be open. Not in-your-face, but not uptight. I'm a laid-back person in general, except for one tiny medical condition we won't get into here. I don't like having to get all crazy and intense about what I put up online. But I have good reason to be paranoid.

I don't even know why I'm posting this, like I'm trying to justify myself to you. I don't need to justify anything.

I'm bored. My new piercing hurts like a mother- this is the first time it's really hurt since I got it nearly two weeks ago- today it's just been really irritated for some unfathomable reason. My jaw is awful too and now I've just realized I almost forgot to take my meds, which would be all kinds of bad. I reek of cigarettes too, because I had a cigar on the back deck, because I was avoiding writing my paper, and that's about as BA as it gets over here in Pembroke.

Sometimes I get scared because I'm nineteen and life is too short not to live it the way you want to- I heard that in a movie once, and it hit hard, and I think it's so true but I'm way too much of a pansy to actually go out and do what I want.

I told my friends that- one night on the playground- told them how scared I was and what a coward I can be and my friend P told me I'm one of the bravest people he knows. It meant a lot, though I don't believe him. I don't think of myself as brave, at all. I think I'm learning things, constantly having new experiences and it is teaching me a bit of wisdom here and there. That's what I strive for, really, is wisdom through experience. I hate ignorance more than anything else and 75% of the things I do are so that I can avoid being ignorant.

But brave? Not on your life. So I let strangers stick needles into me, so I go out sometimes, so I stay out late or take a chance here and there. All of my chances don't really count because they're always physical. I risk my body, my health, my well-being.

But I never take emotional risks. I never tell people what I really think. I never put my personal, spiritual, inner well-being into any danger. I have never in my life really taken a chance on someone else or on myself.

I'm already way too emotionally screwed up without even putting myself in any risk, and honestly, my emotional fear is what I'd consider to be one of my greatest weaknesses. So, yeah, brave isn't exactly the word I'd choose to describe myself.

But what if I die before I ever work up the courage?

How's that for candid?

Listening: Shelter by Birdy