So, I really do believe that the main purpose in my life is to be there for my friends. I always say it. And I really do think it's true.
Now, the only problem with that is I don't think I'm always very good at being there. Yeah, I might be there, but do I give good advice? Do I actually help them out at all, other than just being there? Sometimes I'm not so sure, which makes me feel really stupid when I keep repeating that I'm always there for them, and that's why I'm on earth.
Sometimes I feel like I'm getting better at helping friends. That makes me feel better about the whole thing.
And, once again, I've also been reflecting on my life. Whether that's good or not, I'm honestly not sure, but that never really keeps me from doing it, right?
I've been thinking about how it's odd how I finally started really opening up to others. In movies and books and stuff, people always start opening up after they find somebody, a friend, or a significant other or something, who helps them open up to the world a little more.
Now, I know I shouldn't be comparing life to books and movies, but whatever. I like comparing things, because it makes reflecting easier. Or something like that.
But it real life, it really wasn't like that for me. I mean, sure, in grade 9 I found one of my best friends ever who really helped me out. And even finding him in grade 10 also did wonders for me.
But really, it wasn't until things ended that I actually started opening up, which is weird. Again, in moves and stuff usually after being heart-broken, they always find it so difficult to open up to people again.
I still find that concept slightly odd. It's like, throughout elementary and jr. high I was totally shy, and basically didn't speak unless I was spoken to. I had a certain image in my mind that I wanted to become, and a certain way I thought I should be, and how other people should see me.
In grade 10 we ran into each other, and I opened up just a little bit more, and started to be just a little more outgoing, although not much. The image I felt I had to project for myself vanished, and I was looking at the world through completely optimistic eyes. Of course I had my moments, but for the most part, I look back at grade 10 and think that so far, that's been the happiest year of my life.
That summer I started thinking. To be honest, I can't actually say exactly what happened that summer. Colorado made things hard. Red Deer made things a little bit harder. And I guess after that I just assumed things would go as smoothly as they did over the school year. But I didn't think that I'd have to put more effort into things.
Grade 11. I made myself blind that year. Things were going wrong right in front of my face and I ignored them completely. We blind ourselves to things we don't want to see, right? There were signs all over the place. I was told it right to my face. And still I did nothing.
And then, it ended. At the time it seemed like it happened so suddenly, but looking back, I know I should have seen it coming. Even worse, I know I should have done something about it, but I didn't.
After that, I wanted to promise myself I'd show how much it meant to me. I don't even know how long I went on like this, but for quite a while I didn't allow myself to smile, except for maybe a weak one just to humour people. I didn't even play music with any emotion, although that passed in a couple days, since music was really all I had to hold on to at that point. I stopped eating, except when I was in front of my parents, since I didn't want them asking about it.
The rest of the story is plain to see in my blogs around that point in time. All about feeling like a wall. Everything in there explains it, and I don't think I really want to go through it again right now.
But really, I hit a point where I just felt like I had to go on. And to be honest, most of it was because of a random comment on one of my past blogs. I have two people in mind who might have said it, but I'm not sure which one. I'd really like to know, but I'm not sure if I'll ever actually ask one of them if they did it. Maybe it's best to let it go, even if I do really really want to know.
At some point during my past reflecting, I also realized that the problem back then was that I didn't open up to people. And since then I've been so much more relaxed when it comes to opening up. Sure, maybe not all the time, but I'm sure better then I used to be. My favorite quote concerning this: Experience is the hardest teacher, for it gives the test first and the lesson afterwards. It's so true.
Another thought hit me. I just couldn't keep up. There's the type of people who change very quickly, and I'm not that type. Not really, anyways. I just couldn't keep up with the change. I'd like to think that I would have caught up eventually, but I can't be sure of that.
I guess there's just some things you can't wait for. Sure, I was told that I'd always have somebody waiting for me, but they never think of things like this when they say that, do they?
Don't think that I've having another relapse. I'm not, really. I'm just reflecting. I'll admit a little bit of regret comes with the reflecting, but that's only if I do it for a long time. Usually the regret is a minimum, and it's not like I dwell over this stuff during the day. It's just during the quiet hours of the night where my mind wanders. It will move on eventually, I promise. But like I said, I change at my own pace, which isn't exactly fast.
Wounds heal. Scars don't. Do I have a wound or a scar? I don't know yet. It's too early to tell. I think it's a wound. It's just one that will stay sore for a while.
Whenever I think about things like this, it makes me a little nervous to thinking about starting something again. I don't want to go through this cycle again.
But that thought will grow into an entire discussion within itself, so maybe I'll leave that for another blog post, as this one is already rather long. Congrats if you've actually made it this far.
I think that's enough reflecting for one night. Both my parents have bugged me about going to bed. I hate it when they do that. I'm 17. I know what I'm doing. And I'm not dead yet, so I must be doing something in life right. =P
As a side note, don't think that all my reflecting is leaving me in stupid moods all the time. There really are times when I feel I could just fly. And sometimes it's for no particular reason whatsoever. I love it.
I love dreaming. I can't say why. Some dreams are hilarious, some are scary, others make you think. I just love them in general. It's too bad I'm always so tired over the school year that my sleep is so light, I either don't dream, or I'm so exhausted I don't remember dreams. It makes me sad.
Now I'd better leave you. Just remember that a good talk and a Slurpee can solve a lot of things.
Of course, there are many things that can solve problems in life. But tonight, I think that's a good one. Maybe I should start saying daily things that help in life...but then I'd start thinking about it too much. I'll just let them come as they wish, and then pass it on to the world.
At least, to the part of the world that reads my blog. Which consists of perhaps two people. Oh well. One can hope that word gets around, right?
"Me and numbers are far from being on friendly terms. It's like having a bad ex I didn't even date."
2 months ago