Yesterday, or a few days ago, or something, I said that I hoped the world would be brighter when I woke up.

Well, like with almost every hope, it’s been false (I still have a chance for my dead-in-a-shallow-grave-by-30 hope, ‘cause there’s a few years left on that clock). Either way, it’s stupid to hope for things to get better. It’s easier, it’s better to just hope that you get stronger from everything, that once the storm has torn off all of your armor, once the wind and the blowing needles of sand wear away everything around you that keeps you safe, unhurt- that once you’ve been battered and broken and shattered and shaken by the horrible, howling tempest- you can put all that armor back on, built up with stronger pieces that won’t break the next time, or the next, or the next. Hope that you can build a suit so strong that not even death can worm its way inside- become perfect. That is what I hope for. Light fades. Strength abides.

One day, I will be perfect.

There’s so much I want to say.

There are so many things I want so many people to know.

That’s not going to happen for a long time- mostly because they don’t care, or they have enough problems already without me bothering them.

The world is getting darker and darker and darker, every day. Each time I wake up, a light has gone out, one more person is gone.

Soon, I’ll be all alone in utter darkness. Doesn’t that sound nice? I don’t think I’d mind right now, actually, so long as they left me a few good books and a candle to read them by. I doubt it would end that way, though. I’m sure that it’s my light that people are waiting for, to go out. Then they’ll light their lamps again and say: “Well, what’s next?”

Good night, dark world. Like every night, I hope you’ll be just a little bit brighter when I wake up.

When nothing of the flesh is left, when we breathe our last breath, that is when we are the most truly alive. That is when we are together, joined, and one with the rest of our species, the rest of the world’s life. That is when we are no longer alone.

Until then, a solitary and dark cell is all we can hope for, all we can expect. We make the cell, and we lock the door. Death isn’t just the great equalizer- it’s also the great liberator.

Rant rant, rave rave, mumble mumble, keep the aliens out of my spine. That whole thing sounded kind of creepy. If you ask, I’ll probably either deny it or say it’s from a story I’m writing. Yeah. That’s it.

So, I’ve realized a few things. First of which being the fact that I’m a whiny good-for-nothing bastard. That’s pretty obvious. I don’t think I should have been such a bitch on here. Makes me weak.

Second is that I’m a total coward- I’ve got no luck when it comes to women. Cameron’s nickname for me (Ian ‘One-A-Month’ Garvin) seems about right. That kind of pisses me off, ‘cause I feel like I can’t decide on anything. I’ll make up my mind about whether or not I should change that later.

Hah. Funny. Maybe. I don’t think people read this- after all, there’s a number of people which I’d be willing to bet is infinitely close to zero who actually care and can read- which is saying something.

Third is that I’ve become a lot more social, now that everybody left. I mean, I miss everyone who’s gone a lot; that’s not going to change for a long time, if at all. Really though, I feel like I might have grown? I’m not sure- I barely talk to anyone online anymore, and I feel really isolated. No man is an island, eh? I think I’m unintentionally trying to disprove that point. Then again, I would really rather not.

How the hell am I still shy??? I shouldn’t be. I should be able to talk to new people more easily. What the hell. I’m going to start setting everything on fire.

Well, maybe not. But I’m angry. Mostly about that.

There are a very few people who have the ability to make my day simply by some reminder of them existing; I’m not going to tell you who they are, and I don’t even know if they themselves are aware. But… it’s nice to know that they’re around. I know they’re not there for me- I don’t need them to be, anyways (since I get by fine on my own); they are happiest NOT being there, I’m sure (that isn’t to say that they hate me; on their emotions and feelings I cannot speak because they are not within the purview of my experiences).

Back to what matters. I have so much stuff constantly going on under the surface, and it can be really hard to see past my own skin and realize that I don’t actually matter in all of this; everything that I feel and have ever felt is insignificant. That’s where the aforementioned very few people come in: they matter to me a lot, and I realize that they’re the important ones. Seriously, they’re the main characters of my life- they may not even care, but I would fight and die for them because they matter. I don’t expect anything from them. I just want them to be happy.

Now is one of those times I can help. I’m going to. There’s no question.

I never want to see them hurt.

Yeah, we’re studying the romantics right now, which is pretty much the best thing ever because I get to do poetry for two hours of the day and that translates into a much better mood all the time. I love poetry. I’m not a very good poet, but reading so much poetry makes me really happy. We’re going over some of my favorite authors- Blake, Byron, Shelley (both Mary and Percy), and Coleridge. I’m enjoying that aspect of my days. It’s fantastic.

Today was a friend of mine’s birthday. We’re trying to set him up with a pretty girl. It’s nice to help people. Things feel like they’re going back to normal, but really slowly.  I don’t want a new status quo. I want the old one. I want things back.

Whine whine, bitch bitch, whine. Charming, huh? All of it’s poetry now. Remember when I said I’m not a very good poet? Well, that (unfortunately) hasn’t really stopped me from scribbling some modest crap down. It kind of helps. Shifts the focus of everything bad a little. Kind of like adjusting an old-fashioned camera lens; everything goes out of focus, and it’s just a vague hint of what you used to know was there. It’s not bad, but it’s temporary- because the lens keeps turning, and everything goes right back into focus.

Scenery changes, though. It’s supposed to get nicer. Maybe it will.

That’s been a phrase that my mind keeps coming back to recently. I don’t know why. It fills the blankness when I’m trying to think of something.

That sounds pretty lame. I guess it is.

Since I’ve got nothing better to do, I’m going to probably do a little bit of a stream-of-consciousness. I’m listening to My Chemical Romance and MGMT because they’re awesome right now. Tomorrow I don’t know what I’ll think. That’s a little annoying.

Oh well. So it goes, right? I don’t really know what else to say about it aside from “things change”. Some change quickly, some slowly. All good things must come to an end- that has to stand true for bad things too, then, I suppose.

Lucky us.

Yeah, I’m listening to Carry On My Wayward Son. Because that song is fantastic. You want to argue? Then you argue also with my biceps. Nobody wins against Dr. Bicep Left and Professor Bicep Right. I know, it’s a hard burden to bear, but I try to soldier on.

Seriously, the night has been slightly terrible. I my stomach feels like there is an alien egg inside trying to get out. That’s not reeeeeeeally fun, but the day was good. If it hadn’t been for this, though, I think I would still be having fun with my friends playing games rather than praying for death and writing a blog post. Don’t mistake that for a lament- I’m fine with this, but still, it’s tough for a guy not to wish for his friends’ company.

Oh well. Seeya later, Tumblr. I’m going to watch some anime.

There are so many doubts in this life- am I strong enough, smart enough, fast enough, good enough. Those are the most superficial, though; doubt runs deep, sinking into the pits of your heart. There’s no escaping it- even the most brave feel fear, even the most headstrong have doubts. The problem with doubt is that it worms its way into your mind and sits, festering, forgotten until the very moment you need to be strong when it makes itself known one more time.

I have so many doubts. I should be the perfect knight, with shining armor and a blazing sword, sharpened to the keenest edge. I should be the hero, one flickering torch in a dark night. Instead, I’m useless. Or, well, I feel so useless and stupid all the time that I might as well be- stupid, useless, and alone because of it.

That hurts. It doesn’t matter what’s true or not- as long as you feel a certain way, it might as well be immutable truth. Knowledge is what truth is, and all the things we know are things we learned with bias; our teachers’, our own, our parents’, our friends’. We learn things with this filter on them, and that’s what we know from that moment on. For better or for worse- now, I’m not saying that I don’t think that we can change what we know, just that it’s INCREDIBLY HARD; it’s changing what we consider to be fact. That’s not easy.

Okay, so there’s my ramble for the day. Satisfied, oh my dearest blank wall? Oh, my dearest empty room, capable of naught but echoes? We will speak again, oh my echo-ridden emptiness, and when we do, you will sing with joy.

Tomorrow, I’ll get to take a test that I won’t do very well on, because I have more in common with concrete than my own species (see: Thinking Man) intellectually. I’ll live, though. Whatever.

I don’t think I said this last time, but I really kind of do feel like all the people who know me are gone. That’s not saying that nobody knows me or understands me- there ARE people who know and understand me- but they’re just not here. They’re far away. I’m okay with that- they’re all enriching their lives, and I’m really happy for them because of that. I just miss them and wish they were online more often, or could just take a minute out of their day to call, you know? So many of my friends went to college out of state that these relationships I spent so long building are just… not there any more. I don’t know- the reason I keep returning to this is probably because I get to see one of my best friends this weekend, and I don’t know what’s become of him. Will he still be the person I knew when he left? How long will that last?

I’m kinda scared, ‘cause I’m stupid and lame. But then again, you know that.