Running in Circles

Around my unhappiness.
I can never seem to get enough of it. Or, even for a second, step away. Because even if I feel like I've drowned out the noise enough with something or someone else I've found, I always come back down and realize to put on my glasses. Which I've been wearing more lately. It's funny because I put them on and I immediately feel like "Shit this is what the world looks like." I suppose.
It is easier now to pretend.
I feel like I've gained the ability to simultaneously joke around and smile while also writing a self-deprecating blog such as this. I can have two totally different conversations, one where I'm laughing over something silly from a drunken night, and then perch on the edge of tears and a broken heart. I guess that's technology for ya. We're growing more and more into socially accepted bi-polar beings. And no one has to know it. Hell, I almost scare myself at how much pain I hear in my voice when I sing.
Because it seems to be the only time when I'm being honest.
And there I go again. Falling back into myself. Realizing what I am, what my name is, what I'm doing. It's hard to explain. But it almost hurts. Like I've been thrown back to earth, forced to glare into my eyes in a mirror and realize "fuck." What the fuck am I doing?

I haven't wanted to just write.

More than I do now in a long time.
And now that the page is open, the box is clear, the keys are willing... my mind has gone blank. I've been a cracked shell for the past... let's say 9 months. Slightly exerting small amounts of whatever toxins rest inside. I appreciate everyone who has helped place the bits of tape over the hole but, it remains torn. Right now I'm just feeling extra... lifeless. It's so strange. I had a good night. I've been having good nights. The weather has been warming up to a comfortable level where the sky is blue and the breeze is encapsulating instead of ravenous. There's even the annual St. Patricks day parade in Brentwood a block away from me. But I couldn't bring myself to see the sight. It almost reminds me of times when I was wiling to be innocent and happy.
Don't get me wrong, of course I want happiness.
But I want it in a different form now. Like a beauty magazine. Always having something to say and pretending like it's a different message every month but it's the same with different fonts and colors and models. But I want it dark and mysterious, I want it to search for me and want me. I want it to write me little notes and show me off to all it's friends. Because, god I hate the chase. I tried playing guitar today so that tomorrow when I play with Jackson I'll know what the hell I'm doing. Of course I won't. I really need some lessons. And I guess that's the stage of life I'm at.
The "okay I've been wrong" stage.
I want to be taught the way. I want to quit being upset and sad and defenseless. Someone the other day regarded me as Playful yet Indifferent. And it's not exactly ideal but perhaps it works for now. I've been blinded with making other people like me, trying to fit into their molds. Too bad my love handles spill over the sides.