Empty, Idle Thoughts.

I'm searching for something, but don't know what it is.
I'm always looking around, always thinking ahead,
Always waiting for that to happen,
But what is it?
Who is it?
And why am I disappointed?
I don't think I'm missing anything.
I feel like I'm living my life
But I know I'm also waiting for it to happen.

I'm really very self-centered.
How do I still not understand myself?
I insert thoughts in my student's heads.
I don't give much, but I'm always trying to take.
I dwindle away my life with empty, idle thoughts.

I contradict myself in a lot of ways.
"Don't say I'm handsome" is a lie.
Not caring about popularity is a lie.
Not running from anything is a lie.
Living fully is a lie.
Doing my best is a lie.
Being "ok" is a lie.
Saying I care about people is a lie.
Why do I act like this?

I'm a great actor.
Being a punk is a lie.
Not being cliche is a lie.
Luc Dunn is a hypocrite.

Fact of Life Attacks Again

I realized 2 things while I was walking to work this morning.

1:) I listen a lot, but I don't often reach out to talk to people. And the ones I love, when I wish I could talk to them more, I don't often do anything about it.

2:) People are mortal. I knew I was mortal, I'm gonna die. But my boss, my friends, well, I know they're gonna die, too.

I've had both of these realizations before, but today, there was a new spin on them. They were fresh again. Specifically, I thought not "What if," but "What are we gonna say about him when he's dead?" Not "He might die," but "What am I gonna do, gonna say, how am I going to change, when he dies?"

To me, mortality is a pretty good reason to be honest. I mean, I try really hard, and I can usually avoid lying. I can dodge the truth, but I generally try to be straightforward. Trying to also be positive generally means that I don't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings when I'm honest.

But morality is not the point, here.

Mortality is. It's not really a question of if, or how, but who first, and when? I'm satisfied with my life, but everybody else? Will they be satisfied? Will they go in peace? Will they be satisfied with me?

Can't get it out of my head. "What would he say to me if he were dying in my arms? What am I gonna say or do when he's gone?"

I can't really ever convince myself that it's worth it.

Fuck it, you know?
I'm so sick of trying and caring.
I'd much rather give 60%, and get by,
than actually try.
So I'm probably not going anywhere special.
I'm not special, so it's not surprising.

Maybe I'm just mad because I don't think anyone cares.
I mean, I'd rather throw my anger and my rejection and my frustration in everyone's face. I'd rather tear myself down, rather throw it all away. I'd rather toss it like sand to the wind than keep trying to make something out of it, keep trying to make it look nice. This life.
Life is boring and predictable.
My world is empty and fruitless.
My mind is wicked.

But really, I think the world is beautiful.
I think my life is worth living.
I think it's worth sharing.
I think it's worth dedicating myself completely to something.
But it's easier to follow foolish precedents, and wink with both my eyes,
Than to think.
I think it's worth it, but the more I think about it, the less I think of it.
But inside, I believe in me, and my world, and my life, and my mind, and beauty, and love, and teaching, and poetry, and philosophy, and parkour.
I believe it's worth sharing.
I just can't, sometimes. Can't make myself do it.

"Her," what a strange concept.
The one in my mind I can really be with, live with, breathe with.
But she's never just one person anymore.
"Her:" just a concept.
And I keep trying to fit different people into that dream.
Isn't it foolish to keep doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results?
Isn't it foolish to keep dreaming of that one I can never seem to find?
But I believe in my foolishness.
My foolish precedents are more beautiful, more serene, more fulfilling
Than my thoughts.


"I'm so lonely"
What the hell have I done?
This type of thinking could do me in.

I feel like lots of crazy.
Like impulsivenesses

There are waves of excitement that swell up and make me feel like doing something and I know that this is just frustration, but I don't know where it camefrom.Maybe myinabilitytocommunicate? Maybe love? Maybe teaching? I mean, what the hell, I'm not a frustrated person, I'm not angry or upset about anything.
Comes and goes, comes and goes, swell and crash, dissipate
repeat
swell and crash, dissipate
repeat
I feel like screaming and like breaking something. And I feel like kissing someone, holding someone, being held back, leaning in to gaze into your eyes so close I can smell the fresh scent of whatever it is you use on your hair.
And I feel like saying "fuck you" and I get these random impulses to throwmyself facefirst intosomething hardorsharpanddangerous-looking.
I feel like running as fast as I can away from this place, but more importantly, towards nothing.
I feel like singing, and I want to sing all kinds of things like Manson, Anti-Flag, Fall-Out Boy, Armstrong, Man of La Mancha
I feel like ignoring people, but I do that anyway. I feel like messaging a bunch of people, and stalking them on facebook or cyworld or whatever.
I want to write and paint and tear it all up again, maybe I'll throw this computer out my window when I'm finished typing this.
Swell, crash, dissipate swellcrashdissipateswellcrashdissipateswellcrashdissipate
withdraw from everyone
All this crazy, and I don't knwo where it comes from or what I'm supposed to do with it but I'm so tired of ignoring it, of keeping it all in, of listening to it and myself, of shaking and being so polite and listening to boring conversations and meeting new people.
I want to just lay on my back on the roof until the stars come out and I fall asleep. Why can't I get on the roof here?
I love my apartment.
I wanna scream really loud from the top of it, and then jump off, and see someone's face as they watch me fly.....
I'm so fed up, wtf is this?