sometimes some people just make me feel like a talentless freak. like i'm not really, as in really good at anything. sure, i'm good at doing stuff, but i feel like it's all i'm ever going to be. i'm not going to be someone exceptionally good at something specific, something really mine.
ok, let's count our blessings one by one. i've been told doing that cheers one up...
writing. sure i can write. sometimes surprisingly, i even impress myself. but most of the times it's just my brain blebbing out random thoughts. not really coherent, and if anything it's majorly rhetorical and only i get to know what i'm talking about. it doesn't have a purpose nor a direction. it just suddenly existed because my mind had to fart.
drawing. great. i can draw anime females in four profile views with very unproportioned boobs. like my writing, it has no purpose, everything is random, and there are loopholes needing patches which i do not really care to think about, much less correct.
webpage design. this one i don't know. sure, i like designing and illustration and anything regarding digital art... but my disposition is too gloomy to spread out to other fields and design techniques. i'm too much a fan of monochromes and very much a minimalist to really bother exploring other schemes... pfeh.
talking. ok, i can talk when i need to. in front of an audience, to a friend, to a stranger, to plants, to inanimate objects... what have you. i think i'm pretty decent when it comes to conversing in english, tagalog, and coñospeak. it's just that... i don't feel really connected with the person/s i'm talking with. and i don't really have a grasp on the ideas that my mouth is divulging. it's like forcing my arse to release a sweet-smelling fart. it's so fucken' harrrrrrrd.
thinking. this is the crux. i may be good at thinking, i may be grace under pressure, and i may be mightily clever at times... but my mind always tends to spiral downwards. it takes a real effort pulling it up the way it should be going. an effort sometimes not worth making. oh god.
well that's about all the things i can think of. bottomline, it's all useless. the energy used up in doing those things are just wasted. and that's not even the problem. the problem is i don't even know what it is i'd rather be doing. i feel... dispensable. like anyone can replace me anytime. like i'm not really needed.
and i'm not even sure if being needed is the problem...
about over a month ago i stayed in my room for three days. i came out only to pee and poo. i didn't eat, i didn't talk with anyone... i just laid there on the bed. the most significant movement my body made was billow the blanket. other than that i was just either looking out the window, or looking at the visualizations the mp3 playing in my laptop is making.
those three days... nothing felt odd at all. it felt right just lying there. silence became the air that i was breathing, and it would only feel like i was suffocating everytime my mother would come in and ask me what was wrong with me.
here i go again. this isn't exactly an online journal is it? this has become a garbage dump. a toilet bowl of sorts.
god, i need to fart.
