musings.
ok. spiderman was overrated, like many have said. it wasn't as exciting or thrilling as i thought it would be. the haphazard filming, the sporadic bursts of comedy injected into the action didn't really work. like peter parker dancing in the jazz club. and the almost meaningless flat humour. the patriotism was noted, what with spiderman posing for that momentary second in front of the waving american flag, all blue and red. it started slow i guess, took too long to pick up pace and eventually ended with a somewhat predictable ending. yet, it was ok i guess. my eyes reddened at the scene when harry osbourne died, saving his best friend. it was a strong moment i guess. and it got me thinking.
right now, i'm feeling like i've lost myself. to what i do not know. i've grown detached from myself. i don't feel like i used to feel, i don't think like i used to think, i don't speak like i used to speak. i've been gagged and tied up and submerged into an abyss of scarred and self induced withdrawal. i know why alcohol makes me feel the way it does. it liberates the subconscious. inebriated, it releases a cacophony of uninhibited emotions. bounded then released like a surge of untold fantasies unleashed upon dreamers.
it makes you insecure. you feel like you've got everything to lose. everything's on the line and at risk. with new people, you take extra caution not to lose them. it makes you so eager to please, to not let go, to grab on to the one thing you know that is as fragile and probably, as disappointing as love is - friendship. it's a diaspora of feelings, of wanting to build upon this new found friendship, and struggling with the fear of not being good enough. you fear rejection and unacceptace. you fear exclusion and solitude. yet you crave the one thing that brings untold joy and smiles - companionship.
friendship and companionship live in mutual exclusion. disconnectivity is apparent, especially when there was always someone to turn to in the last 3 years. taking it away leaves you open and vulnerable. i mean, knowing that she was always there, no matter what and no matter when, bred dependance and to a certain extent, over reliance. there are things you can only say to her, and certain things that you'll approach her for. but now, she's not there. friends can't assume the role of a girlfriend and that's what make the special one so different. it's back to readjusting to life where you left off 3 years ago. 3 years ago when you were 17.
it's a haunting silence. an inward struggle to deal with loss and recovery. of perhaps trying too hard to please. i should just let go, and have more faith in those i claim to be friends, for they're the ones who make life so much more bearable these days.
right now, i'm feeling like i've lost myself. to what i do not know. i've grown detached from myself. i don't feel like i used to feel, i don't think like i used to think, i don't speak like i used to speak. i've been gagged and tied up and submerged into an abyss of scarred and self induced withdrawal. i know why alcohol makes me feel the way it does. it liberates the subconscious. inebriated, it releases a cacophony of uninhibited emotions. bounded then released like a surge of untold fantasies unleashed upon dreamers.
it makes you insecure. you feel like you've got everything to lose. everything's on the line and at risk. with new people, you take extra caution not to lose them. it makes you so eager to please, to not let go, to grab on to the one thing you know that is as fragile and probably, as disappointing as love is - friendship. it's a diaspora of feelings, of wanting to build upon this new found friendship, and struggling with the fear of not being good enough. you fear rejection and unacceptace. you fear exclusion and solitude. yet you crave the one thing that brings untold joy and smiles - companionship.
friendship and companionship live in mutual exclusion. disconnectivity is apparent, especially when there was always someone to turn to in the last 3 years. taking it away leaves you open and vulnerable. i mean, knowing that she was always there, no matter what and no matter when, bred dependance and to a certain extent, over reliance. there are things you can only say to her, and certain things that you'll approach her for. but now, she's not there. friends can't assume the role of a girlfriend and that's what make the special one so different. it's back to readjusting to life where you left off 3 years ago. 3 years ago when you were 17.
it's a haunting silence. an inward struggle to deal with loss and recovery. of perhaps trying too hard to please. i should just let go, and have more faith in those i claim to be friends, for they're the ones who make life so much more bearable these days.