I miss talking to you, listening to music with you, going on random adventures with you, annoying families by blowing on grass and getting chased by motorcycle gangs with you, etc. We drifted and I do not like it.
I feel the exact same way. We need to amend this. :(
And that’s how I learned the lesson that everyone’s alone, and your That’s how I learned the lesson that everyone’s alone. And your eyes must do some rainin’ if you’re ever gonna grow. But when crying don’t help, you can’t compose yourself, it’s best to compose a poem. An honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope.
Where your ex flaunts around her new boyfriend, and acts like he’s the greatest person who ever lived.
And that you meant nothing.
It’s a strange feeling, because although you clearly don’t have any romantic affections for that person anymore, you still feel weird looking at her having the time of her life with a guy that took your place.
Will I obsess over it? Absolutely not. After this moment, I’ll move on. But, it’s always interesting to reminisce on good times passed, when life was okay in a certain situation and you thought things were going to last forever. Perhaps I was much more young an naive then, but it’s just downright weird when you gave someone your heart and they end up hurting you like they did.
And also the fact that she’s been through like 5 or 6 guys, and flaunted them all in the very same way. Not a nice thing to do, to make a person feel expendable, and easily replaceable. That goes against the concept of what love really is between two people, I feel.
Not a tear was shed this time. Nor a single regret. I wouldn’t go back and change things because I’m actually a lot happier now. But still…it’s strange when your past lands on you like a ton of bricks. It’s residual memory from a first attempt to love somebody. It’s a reminder that, yes, you’ve been hurt badly, and she’s off doing it again to someone else that wanted to see all the good in her.
I need to let go of the past. There’s a lot of wonder and hope in the future and the present.
In 2009, I noticed I had a proliferation of many different usernames. I decided then and there that I wanted to try and bring things together under one unified username. More or less, like a brand name.
So, after brainstorming for a name, I finally found one that almost no one had dibs on: DeadSuperHero. The name at the time was just an allusion to the “Death of Superman” comic book, but it’s largely grown in scale and in concept.
Our society has invented superheroes as a form of escapism. We love to read about them because a superhero can solve anybody’s problem. They’re always there when you least expect them, and they manage to do many great feats that no ordinary person could be capable of.
To me, this is conceptually a contradiction: a superhero is often little more than an ordinary person with some superpowers and a costume. To get to the core of what our humanity is, we must kill the superhero aspect of ourselves. We have to strip away all that perfection, all those superficial ideas of how perfect we would be with said “powers”.
With those delusions out of the way, we can focus on the truly important aspect of being human: who we are, and what we are capable of accomplishing. It’s about contributing to the world around us, and connecting together, not as superheroes, but as human beings. It is all about embracing the best aspects of our humanity, without the needs to set up walls and establish elitism. In short, it is about doing good for the sake of doing good.
I love you a lot. You said you wanted to give me the biggest hug ever, well I want to hug you forever. After getting to talk to you more than usual today, my evening feels rather empty without you in it. You are amazing. xo
We should definitely talk more. It makes me realize how much I miss you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_FCbPu81Xg This is the show I went to in July for Pretty Lights. This was his entrance song, and it almost nearly felt like a religious experience there. Possibly the best show I’ve ever gone to.
I would like everyone in the Universe in on something tonight. A feeling. Rather, a revelation.
In the darkest, most difficult parts of our lives, there is hope. In the most fearful places where we can’t see a shred of it, we must know that it is still there. It is in ourselves. It is in each other.
Every single day may be a struggle. Every single moment may feel like a regret. Everything may feel only not unlike pain. But there is hope. Hope that, someday, things won’t be this bad. Hope that, someday, we’ll appreciate how worth living life is. Hope that we can find value in all of the chaos of today. The chance that someday, the things we fear will rescind themselves into the caverns of tomorrow. It is this feeling, I feel, that echoes in the hearts of everybody when faced with monumental challenges.
And yet, if it weren’t for these challenges, nothing would be worth doing. A thousand stories wouldn’t be told if there wasn’t a conflict. A thousand victories wouldn’t be achieved if not for a struggle. A thousand dreams of a better world would not be made if not for the fact that the world we are living in is not enough.
Yes, there are burdens. The human heart is weighted down with them since we learn about things beyond ourselves. We are faced with so many expectations. So many hopes and dreams and goals, and we all are so quick to give up on them. Why? Is it that we feel that simple achievement for ourselves and the people we love will not be enough?
Sometimes, life is all about experiencing the futility of our attempts. Other times, life is all about appreciating the fact that we even tried at all. With love in your hearts, and enough imagination and a bit of luck, I’d imagine that everyone is well-equipped to do something they love at some point in their lives. And they should follow their hearts.
The mind may be the center of rationality, but it cannot thrive without inspiration from the heart itself.
So I implore you, dear reader. I want you to dream. I want you to try and follow the dreams that you have.
And I want you to know how much I love you. Whether you believe you are the creation of some deity, or the random misfirings of nuclear energy in a quantum state through subatomic particles, I want you to know that as part of the human collective, what you do affects me. To a small degree, the things I do may affect you.
And that is why, with all my heart, I must profess my love for the universe. Every stick and stone. Every molecule. None of it is perfect, and yet, it will have to do. It is all we have together. I am but a drop of water in the endless ocean, but that doesn’t mean that a sum cannot love the whole. On the contrary, I want you to know that every sum is worth something. It is in the collective state that we grow together, but individually we are all special and beautiful and unique and wonderful.
I love you. Every single one of you. Your life is worth living, your existence is worth being. Know this, and grow.
If it’s not one person saying it, it’s somebody else. Today, I felt a lapse in a problem that I thought I had gotten over. Frankly, I’m just continuing to slide backwards. Farther and farther into depravity. I am a walking power-plant of hatred and rage.
Part of me is convinced that I may have brain damage. Do you know what it’s like to wake up one day, and realize that dozens of your memories are gone? At first it’s small things, like names, but it keeps eating away further and further at your brain? I literally cannot remember 90% of what happened in high school. Nearly all of my childhood memories are extinguished. This is not normal.
It’s no secret that I have people problems. I have difficulty with human interaction. If you know me well, you’ll know that I’m always wearing some kind of mask to hide the full entirety of my character. Maybe that’s a creepy way of putting it. But, let me ask you: do you expose all of yourself to your peers? Every little bit?
Of course not. There are parts of us that we don’t want anyone to see. In my case, that’s almost everything. And it’s getting worse.
Reality is maddening. Seeing your own body degrade in front of your own very eyes, day after day. Knowing that you’re completely unlikeable in any aspect other than “friend” by everyone you know. Feeling that your own complaints are little more than incessant bitching, and that any concern or compassion that someone feels is part of just some kind of etiquitte of a larger system. Like saying “God Bless you” to someone who sneezes, or making small talk at the grocery store.
And then, to lose your job. It’s bad enough that your own family views you as some sort of awkward burden that they’d rather not take care of. Your father won’t have anything to do with you, but he’ll be glad to take a cut of the money your mother makes to neglect your troubled teenage brother. You’ll never see a damned penny from him, ever. And when he asks about whether you’re going back to school in the fall, and you lie through your teeth to him based on this sense of self-loathing and fear that pumps through your spine.
Your mother, god bless her, can’t help you much. She can barely pay for food. Half the time, your stepdad gives you shit for eating food out of the fridge. So, you pay for almost all of your own meals. Your car is busted out in the front yard and costs more to repair than it does to replace, but you’re busy trying to keep up with bills and feed yourself. And you’re packing on the pounds, too.
Your boss tells you the equivalent of “Uhh, I dunno.” as to when you’ll be getting your paycheck. You’re promised a bunch of things that are vague, and you’re not even sure are going to happen. For all you know, you could be getting totally fucked over. How well do you really know your boss, your co-workers? The people that can call you friend, and yet stab you in the back?
You can’t stop dwelling on the few things you do remember, and they’re all painful memories. Everything good slips through your fingers and flies away, because you’re some awful terrible motherfucker with a perchance for immaturity and whining.
I’m tired of the reality I’m living in. I feel powerless, and I feel that I’m trapped. There’s literally nothing I can do to change the shit life that I’m trapped in. No relating to people. No happiness. Nothing. Just a gaping black of hole of misery and disappointments. I wish I could just fully strip myself of human emotion and live like a fucking robot.
Actually. If I weren’t so terrified of death, I would rather just drop dead right now. Hell and this are indistinguishable.
At the very least, I feel like I should withdraw from everyone. I doubt I’d be missed for very long. Or by many people at all. My concept of mattering is but an overblown statement based on my own insecurities. I’d rather just not exist at this point.
You set up a bond of trust with someone over a lengthy period of time. You hold them in high esteem, and you rush to their side to help them when other people attack them. You listen to them when they’re down. You give them advice when they need it. You stick up for them, because you care about them. I mean, they’d do the same for you, right?
And yet, you’re somehow the bad guy. For standing up for someone that you care about. For criticizing someone that you feel has an aptitude for being really heartless. In older days, retaliation in conversation could be considered to be “Giving them a taste of their own medicine.” You’ve seen dozens of examples of this person’s shallow behavior, and you feel that your attack on them is justified. They did, after all, just attack one of your best friends.
At first, you’re thanked by your friend for helping out. But then, you’re confronted by the shallow person. She wails about how you ruined her day, and what a terrible fucking person you are, how dare you criticize her actions and lack of maturity.
Last time I checked, I wasn’t in kindergarten. I tried to make my case to her about what she did, and the fact of the matter is that I didn’t even mention names in my attack on her anyway. I could’ve been a real dick to her, but I wasn’t.
Or so I thought.
But really, that’s just a minute point of what I’m getting at here. Apparently, now I’m being accused of spreading rumors about my best friend, and how she “talks behind people’s backs”. And there’s “proof” (read: screenshots probably doctored in Paint or Gimp or Photoshop or whatever). Whoever did that had “nothing against me”, and yet apparently I obviously did because this image exists.
She claims she saw them log into Facebook and produce conversations about it. If that’s the case, why on earth can’t I remember anything about it? The fact that she can’t readily produce this “evidence” on a whim suggests either one of two things:
1.) There’s possibly a fake profile of me floating around there.
2.) They readily pulled up a doctored screenshot, although 1 sounds more likely now.
I’d be lying if I said there weren’t people that hated my guts. I’ve slept around a bit in the past, and I’d like to think that I’ve since cleaned up. I’ve had a few one-night-stands with a few people, male and female, and there was a lot of awkwardness that followed that. The reasons of someone doing this to soil a relationship with someone I genuinely care about are limitless. Maybe it’s someone that wants to go out with her, but sees me as some kind of threat. Which is hilarious; I’m the least threatening person I know.
Frankly, I don’t have time or energy for drama. I barely have enough energy when I come home from work half of the time, and between the shitty home life, the constant bills, the fact that I can’t go back to school until the spring, and how fucked I am on getting a car at the moment, I really don’t think that I’d have the time or energy to do that to someone! I really fucking don’t!
I don’t even recollect saying or doing any such things. Surely, I should be allowed to read the evidence for what I’m being accused of, right? I literally don’t remember ever doing that, and I’d be appalled at myself if I ever did such a thing. Anyone can tell you that it’s not in my character. It never has been. If I have a beef with someone, I’ll call them out publicly, or in private. Depending on what kind of shit they’re doing. But speaking behind people’s backs is beyond me. Gossip is one of those things that ruins work environments, ruins friendships, and ruins lives.
The fact that I get so much shit for something I didn’t do, and my one action of standing up for them ends up being some kind of indication of my character genuinely bothers me. I thought we had a lot more trust in each other to realize that this whole thing is a bunch of overblown bullshit that I’ve never been involved in, aside from that one fucking comment on her Facebook wall.
In short, the Internet sucks, as does drama. I’d have thought that by the time we reached a college level, we’d be able to leave that drama behind us and act like civilized adults, but in many cases I’m seeing the contrary.
What the heck is this “Shipping” phenomenon that so many Tumblr people are into these days? I get that it’s about fans, and possibly fanfiction, but the whole thing makes little sense to me, and has been poorly explained.
I can’t claim to really have a solid understanding of some people. Perhaps it’s the idealist in me, wanting to see the best in everyone. This fundamental flaw in myself is a double-edged sword. I see such wonderful potential in other people. I fall in love with some of them. It’s really rather boyish, I guess.
Tonight, though, I was reminded of a sickness that resides in the pit of my stomach. But first, allow me to explain. I’d also like to point out that I’m not upset at anyone in particular. I’m more just frustrated and sickened by my situation.
I’m very idealistic about feelings. A hopeless romantic, if you will. I believe that love transcends things like gender, sexuality, race, religion, identity. It is a universal force that we must cling to. It’s better than any drug (a statement that I feel qualified to stand behind), and it’s more empowering than anything that I can think of.
Is it codependency to draw self-worth from love? Maybe, but it certainly is a wonderful feeling to have, and to be in.
In this world, you meet these people that you end up going on adventures with. You discover a lot of things about yourself. About human similarities, and differences. You dream, you grow. In short, you sometimes find people with amazing aspirations. You find a heartbeat that beats a rhythm that you want to join in on, if that makes any sense at all.
And then, occasionally, you have your heart shattered to pieces. Sometimes it scars you. Often, it scars you in ways you didn’t expect. And sometimes, that scar lasts a really long time.
Not to overshare. I still have problems with human intimacy. The act of sex has become so uncomfortable and horrifying that I feel ashamed to expose myself to anyone, in many instances. I idealized sex to be a largely romantic thing between two people. But, sometimes when you really love someone, and they leave, you just don’t feel the same. I wouldn’t say it’s a permanent problem. I’ll probably get through that just fine. But the struggle between sexuality vs. romantic idealism has always been…difficult, to say the least.
I’ve fallen for so many people, and I’ve had a good amount of letdowns.
I refuse to give up on it, but it gets worse unfortunately. Any asshole can get a good girl. In fact, I’ve seen a fair share of horrible people keeping a good heart in their clutches. And yet, I can’t stoop to that level. I’m above being the slimeball that “cruises for pussy”. The fact that so many people fall for these horrible fuckers is beyond me.
Ultimately, all I’ve ever wanted is to matter to another human being. Not just like a scholar, or a friend, or a source of information. A lover. A real, bona-fide lover that is ready to go through the thick and thin of everything. It’s kind of sad that I built a strong source of happiness and a reason to matter off of this, but that’s how it is.
And I try and forget about how shitty that situation is. But sometimes, I wonder about a lot of things. I try and be mature about rejection. I’m an adult, after all.
I know I’m not perfect. I have funny-looking teeth. I’m a little overweight. My voice sounds a little funny. I’m not attractive enough. I’m still trying to figure out this “hair” thing, and occasionally I’m very awkward due to fundamental misunderstandings. In many ways, I hate many aspects about myself. We all are, in a sense. We’re all critical of who we are.
So naturally, my self-perception is very fragile. I often think that I’m not good enough to deserve somebody else. Because I feel like a classic fuck-up in many respects.
Do you ever know someone from high-school, they move away, and just as they’re doing so, they spill their heart about how much they liked you, and wanted to be with you?
What the fuck is that? What kind of sick joke is this reality that I’m trapped in?
But really, the one that hit me tonight, and has hit me many nights before with many different people, is the following scenario.
She asks you how she can be more attractive to get a good man, and waxes poetic over how she wants someone that will appreciate and respect her. She wants to be someone’s dream. She doesn’t realize that she’s been at least more than one guy’s dream, I’m sure.
And she tells you this after you spilled your heart and feelings to her. I’m not accusing her of anything. I know I’m screwy, and off-kilter. I know I’m strange, and probably undeserving of what I’m looking for. But when you know full well that I feel something that burns me down to the soft liquid center of my heart, it feels like I’m being written off.
And it hurts. Horribly. I had to step away from the computer for a few minutes to prevent myself from throwing up from nerves.
I know I’m not good enough, but don’t tell me how there’s no one for you and how lonely you are. That hurts more than you can imagine. I know you didn’t mean it, but I’m trying to fight my self-hatred issues plenty already.
Ridiculous dream #2: I met a girl online, and we were about to, you know, “go at it”, when we both kind of chickened out. Because we’re young, naive, and both not those kinds of people.
Well, by some strange coincidence, we end up meeting at a party the next night. We laugh, we dance, we actually hold a legitimate conversation. A few days go by, and after spending a lot of time together, I finally tell her how wonderful she is, and she says “Awww, you’re so sweet.”, and hugs me. And a smooch.
Later, I end up walking back home, and apparently I live in a society with a bear infestation problem. There are grizzly bears all over the place, growling at me. Luckily, it seems the townspeople were clever and every street intersection has a snowbank covered in honey to distract the bears.
First off, what the hell. Pottermore is now closed for early invitations? How the fuck did I miss out on that? Now I’m sad, because I have to wait until everyone else that missed out can get on. What a bummer! I usually beat most people to these social phenomena.
I have to think of a bad guy for my younger brother’s story. Really having a hard time with it, because it has to be new and exciting. We need to do something before our universe dies.
I just wanted to say: I love my friends. They’re always there for me. :)
Interesting fragment from a #dream last night: was on a starship, standing at the helm. There was this table that everyone stood at, with holographic maps and what-have-you. Everyone touched the table at the same time, and instantly, our thoughts collectively became one.
What was particularly interesting about the sensation was that multiple characters in the dream had interwoven, interactive thoughts. It was like having multiple conversations at once without losing focus. A rocket scientist, a navigator, and engineer, and me, the captain, were all capable of conversing concurrently in the span of an instant simply by thinking about it. Reviewing our memories, checking facts, and building plans, so to speak.
I just wonder if this kind of concept could ever make it past an abstract concept. Either way, I think it would make for a really neat mechanism for a sci-fi story. :)
I just wanted to come by and take time to congratulate you on a truly delightful read. "Just Another Face In The Human Experience" is an incredible piece.
I agree. Life can be an wondrous sojourn, as well as, it can be incredibly short lived.
Thank you so much! It’s just something I’ve been feeling for a while, and I’ve slowly been trying to figure out how to express it.
By nature, man is a lying animal. We lie to set up walls. We set up walls because we don’t want to admit the truth to ourselves. It is in our nature to question, to inquire, vis-a-vis a constant reworking of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis.
The question is, what are we so afraid to talk about? Before I dive into that, I want to talk about a few principles.
Man has, historically speaking, been afraid of the unknown. Our very definition of death is based mostly on a realization of our own transience. In the grand scheme of eternity, a concept humanity can barely even comprehend (much less even visualize), we understand how marginalized our own existence is. In the span of everything that ever happens, how can anyone feel like something important at all? To paraphrase Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York:
"You are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. You’re too busy dying, or being born, to really live your own life."
We fear the void, and we fear joining it. Humans in general could be said to share this fear; at the very least, elements of these fears are shared. It is in our own uncertainty that the veil is lifted, and we find ourselves staring at one another.
I feel that in many ways, humans are afraid to admit their similarities. For some strange reason, we view our own emotional insecurities as legitimately debilitating weaknesses. We don’t want other people to dig those things up about us, but then again, here we are.
Of course, I’m not saying that we’re all exactly the same. Or that we should just be cogs in a machine.
But when you really boil away all of the fundamental elements of your own life, of the things that you think make you the person that you are, I think you’ll find that we all have this sort of commonality in all of us.
We are all afraid. We are all trying to define ourselves and find meaning. And then after that, we try and find comfort in the meanings we’ve defined for ourselves.
There is a certain fragility shared as well. We all hurt emotionally from time to time. We all know the feeling of being isolated by our peers and ostracized for whatever reason.
We also feel the desire to matter to another person. To seek a peaceful and painless existence with people that appreciate us. Care about how we feel. Ask about our thoughts on things.
We ultimately want to be valued.
Of course, there are many different parameters that define how exactly we want all of those things. Everyone has a slightly different calibration.
But, at a fundamental level, we are not so different. At all. Gender, sexuality, race, name, physical features. These things become irrelevant when you consider the importance of what is similar between everyone.