4 posts tagged “school”
For the past, i dunno, about a week now? So yeah, for the past week my way to school has been lightened up a little. Quite a bit.
It appears I like geeks.
It appears i'm in a big hole called romanticism.
It's a beautiful, beautiful hole. I'm all sucked up in it and i like it a lot.
It makes me do things. Quite extraordinary things, yet so simple and delicate they're barely noticeable. This pitch black, wooden hole of romance is making me smile. This entirety of darkness and spring breezes is making me change my hairdo and walk like a woman.
He's tall and he's skinny and he has blonde geek hair, a black coat covering most of his slim body up. It makes him appear even taller, i think. I imagined him naked and whenever i do he's a little less tall so i can kiss him perfectly well in all kinds of cinderella manners i've been told about.They are true girl&boy kisses.
It's a very intimate feeling. All it does is make me feel crushed. I'm not a girl for usual relationships, it seems. All that was ever given to me was one big true love breaking my heart and useless attempts out of pure boredom and being suffocated by my surroundings.
Now there is something new.
He is passing me by every little morning and every time I grin when he rushes away into the train - he's always nearly letting it pass, he's always almost too late. Seconds later i smile at him through the whide, yellowed windows of the tube wether he's looking or not.
That's the time of the day I like most. For a week it's been my favourite time of the day. If i had to fill out a survey about favourite times of days i'd check the box next to where it says "7.27am - 7.29am". It's a very very good time of day for me.
He's got the geek-purse. It's beautiful, black leather, with a long leather band sliding around his long, long upper body and back. He's always walking very upright. It's a big purse and you can tell it's been used for a little while now, contrasting his black, new fleece coat.
I like his shoes, too. Men never wear good shoes, do they. There's the emo or rock kids with their Converse looking like bummers and the slick types with their smooth sneakers or black boots looking overdressed. Also the ones with their white-white-white sneakers which they love more than anything else.
He's got perfect shoes.
Every time I close my eyes seing him step inside the train. I count to four, it's one and two and three and four, my fingers counting down - then i open my eyes up again. I try to find him, catch a glimpse of him inside the packed train. I'm feeling like i'm window shopping and wish i could just shoplift him. From where i'm passing the street as the train takes a turn and leaves in my direction.
I've never been the type for the usual relationships. Really.
He's beautiful and I just wanna kiss him.He's a geek. You can tell entirely from looking at him. He's got clear skin and a beautiful face structure. With the way he rushes by you can almost smell his awkward way of talking - atleast that's what i pretend to smell.
When he's gone i forget him again for the rest of the day. He just doesn't appear again. But the very next morning he's there again, rushing by, catching his train, me passing by being amused by my reaction to his random appearance in my system.
I'm waiting for the day he'll miss it for the first time, having to notice me.
I'm not made for real life friendships, really. Not those everyday-school-and-afterwards-girl-shit.
None that require constant occupation. I feel like a bad person for all the things people do for me without getting anything in return - when i really shouldn't.Of course it's sweet to see rock 'n' roll bands in towns. It's nice to have somebody whos house i can go to after work. It's nice to have somebody i can ponder around school if i feel the need to.
But the whole getting to know her?
Not happening. It didn't with the last girl who i wanted to be my "best friend" , i doesn't with the one right now.
The reason? I do not care.
I don't care where she's from, what her childhood friends are called, if her mum is crazy, if her sister is driving her nuts, i don't like hearing stories about her past or what is happening in her life right now. I just do not care at all.
It's a weird thing and i wish i was better than this, i wish i could listen to all these tellings and enjoy it truthfully and honest - truth is, i'm not.
I've realized this by now.
I wish i could be a best friend for everybody who wants me to. I wish i could be Chris' heroin he asked me to be, i wish i had the guts to tell Janine that she's missing out, that her relationship is going somewhere wrong, I wish i had the balls to be a good best friend for the person who considers a best friend at this stage in my life.
But I'm not. I'm not her best friend - that's another girl she's know for years. And that's just fine for me. It's reality. Just like the person who's been her best friend is hers, Franzi is mine. That's the way it is. It's like with my (step-)dad not accepting that i am not his natural child. And that it's just fine like this, that it doesn't make a difference but that it is reality.
Thing is, ever since i've stepped into this girls life again she has started talking some shit about her old best friend to me. I never respond to that. I always tell her that she should talk to that person about it - cause it's not my business. It's their shit.
She just relies on me cause i'm the easier option right now and as much as i can understand that i still think it's wrong. I still think it's not right. I still believe that i'm somehow wrong in the picture.
I can only be what i am.
I'm the kid you call up if you wanna go rent movies with greasy hair or mosh in the club or get wasted and fucked. I'm the person you spend time with if there's stuff to do.
I'm not somebody to talk your life through with.. I've heard childhood stories. I've heard puberty stories. I've spend my teenage time in houses of others. It's cool. I'm through with it.
It's the reason i've turned down Stefan.
I'm tired of everybodies stories.
I'll listen to you if you've got an issue. I'll help you trough. That's what i do for the people around me. I would never not. I'll get you a lovely birthday if nobody else does. I'll send you parcles for Valentines if i know that's what you need. I'll tell your sister off if i know you can't bear it any longer. I'll pick you up in Stuttgart cause you're on coke and without money. I'll do your math homework with you calling the math geeks because you've got a presentation the next day.
- And i wouldn't have it any other way.
But i've realized that i'm not made for phone calls. I'm not made for listening to stories about first drunk times. Not if they're just random convos. If they mean nothing - if they're just to get to know you better.
I never tell stories about my past either.I've never really recognized that i purposely don't do this. But in my life nobody knows my story.
When i've told a girl in my maths class about me living on the street a year she couldn't believe it - even though it was only mentioned as a side note to explain a certain belief i have on a certain topic. Nobody knows about my past friends. The stories happened to me. I never talk about them - i think that is because whatever they have made me become i stand for. Me, that is what those stories are. Everything that happend to me is me right now summed up. I am the deep down meaning of those stories about past loves and happenings.
It's a stupid thing to do. It's worse probably than being a loner and just hating the world. Cause i'm letting everybody in - but i'm keeping them out at the same as far as can be.
I'm not made for bff shit. I'll go shopping with you if you wanna go shopping. Or if you need new clothes. But i won't be at ease. I won't enjoy hearing what you like about this shirt or that jeans. Simply because i do not care.
I care about the people new in my life. But i don't care about their stories. They've got best friends who know the stories. There's no need for me to know them too. If you want to talk about how you felt that night, where it has taken you, when you broke, who made you realize things. Go ahead. Tell me. Tell me the meaning of your stories. That's what i care about - the meaning. Not the bullshit around it.
I'll get a picture of you that is not true - not you.
I'll get a version of you filled with stories, not meanings. To me, that's an empty picture. It means nothing and even more so it tends to annoy me.
Why are people always having to tell their stories? Why aren't they coming down to what they mean?
Back then when you had your first beer or your first breakdown, the first bad mark in school, the first kiss, did you care about the way things happend or do you remember what it meant to you?
I think stories should be told. Tell them to everybody, but tell them because they mean something, not just because they happend.
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| Mars Semisextile Neptune |
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| Dec 14, 2006 to Dec 16, 2006 |
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| You're not feverish or achy. You just know you need to stay home today. Remember how you used to get out of school when you weren't ready for a test? | ||
i like astrology.com for making me feel less awful about skipping school for the past two days plus today.
no, thanks really.
Anyway, was a regular history class, full boringness and all of a sudden he jumps up singing the french national anthem.Crazy much?I believe so... actually, later on he jumped upon one of the tables if i remember things correctly.People are just odd.
I really should just drop out of school.It's nuts.Even my teachers are.hell.
In the beginning the little black drop on the right is meee and on the left is my dear friend Eva.Aren't we the cake.
