suicide

The number of cigarettes I have a day has increased dramatically. I'm at about 12-14 now. Spending so much time doing it, I think it's about time I analyze it.

When I started smoking, I smoked because Amanda never let me do it. It made me feel better to think that there was at least one "benefit" that came from the break up.

I kept smoking because I was depressed and wasn't strong enough to commit suicide.

I kept smoking because all my friends do it.

I kept smoking because I was used to being the judgmental asshole, but try smoking a cigarette in a public place, and see how everyone else reacts. It's a pretty swift role reversal.

I smoke now because I am addicted, and tonight, I will smoke purely for the suicide.

braveryk@gmail.com

If I wrote a book about my life, it would be called "Asshole."

I've been telling people, when they ask, that I'm an asshole for about a year now. Ever since I discovered that fact about myself. I find people deny it almost immediately, and dismiss the fact that I said it.

And I almost believed them. But times like this make me realize that I am. I mean, I really am. So when someone else tells you that they are an asshole, believe them. They know more about themselves than you do. Isn't that the point of life, thought, and intellect?

THIS POST IS NOTHING LIKE USUAL AND SHOULD BE DISREGARDED.

I don't have any inspiring quotes for you, I don't have any meaningful phrase to base this post on, I just feel like writing. I'm not even sure what to say.

I want to find someone who I really relate to. Sharing the thoughts you thought no one else had feels so liberating. But, at the same time, it's sad. We realize we aren't the only one striving for novelty.

Oh, I remembered a quote, and in doing so, decided a topic.

I have a friend who thinks that being a "good person" depends on your amount of "street cred." After feeling like Iknew that being a good person was decided by your thoughts and how you act on them, the mere thought of this made me angry.

We got onto the topic by discussing a mutual friend, whom I have an almost immeasurable amount of respect for. Throughout high school and college, he has made nothing but good choices. He is a devoted, caring, and genial person. I respect him for not only putting up with distasteful habits, and temptations, but his ability to be social, even though he doesn't partake in the usual drugs that make a person that way.

My respect is the most valuable thing I could give him. Although this may sound like I do agree with the importance of "street cred," I think there is a large and important distance between the respect I give the mutual friend, and the type of respect the first friend referred to, which is the type you give the strongest guy in prison.

But what really does make someone a good person? I always thought of a good person as someone who values thought. Intellectuals. I respect those types of people. Maybe that's how I connected 'good' with 'respectable'.

You are good when you make good choices with a good mind. Anyone could open a door for the girl. some will do it with hidden resentment. These are who Holden would call, "phonies."

Some do it while looking at their girl and smiling. They smile every time they look at her. These are the good people.

Who gives a fuck if everyone else respects them, when they have no insight into your thoughts. You are who you are when you are alone. There has never been a truer word said.

"Your mind will be like its habitual thoughts; for the soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts."

I don't know why I wanted to write this, I just really feel like getting back to who I was three months ago, when I wrote more.

BRAVERYK@GMAIL.COM
I would love to hear more from you guys. It would help me.

I come towards you.

"We are generally the better persuaded by the reasons we discover ourselves than by those given to us by others."

I urge you to read this blog. while thinking about yourself, and not me. I'm just an asshole.

Suitcase tracks in the snow.

I remember the night she broke up with me. It didn't rain, like it should have. It always rains in books or movies, when change happens. It'll suddenly pour, like the clouds don't give a fuck to what you're going through. "Here, now you're wet, on top of all that. Go inside, where you used to sleep with her."

It didn't rain, it snowed. 

It was like rain, but much, much colder.

And I had to roll her suitcase through all that.

And it's not even warm where I live now, like it should be. Like you always imagine when you hear of the place. Even at noon, I'm uncomfortable without a hoodie.

braveryk@gmail.com

"You still owe me all those sodas."

Finally, I feel the urge to write again. It's been gone so long, I had forgotten what it felt like. Phrases sounding like music rushing through my head. The Frenzied fear that they will be lost from my memory before I get them written down, somewhere safe from my own forgetfulness.

Though once penned they will seem foolish, disorganized, juvenile, they sound like music.

I remember trying to kiss her, the first her I ever had, for the first time, for my first kiss. It was in a movie theatre of all god damn places. I remember setting it all up in my head carefully, like dominoes. I had a script written in my mind, and expectations that could have busted through the roof of the place. I leaned over and said my line, a bit too quickly, I think. I remember that, because she didn't hear me. She said "what?" as I sheepishly leaned towards her. A quick peck, the strangest feeling in the world, and I pulled away.

I felt sick, I felt depressed and I felt angry. I remember my best friend at the time, and still to this day, trying to get me to do that the entire movie. Jesus Christ, it wasn't like I didn't want to.

Her small lips provided little surface to put my own on. And I don't really know what I was expecting at all. Explosions, fireworks, cheering? Nothing like that ever happens. I swear life would be better with a special effects team. Now I realize that what I felt was the correct feeling. It didn't feel wrong because I had any problems, only because I was a beginner. The feeling doesn't change if you don't have a well-intentioned heart, unfortunately. Oh, the things that could be avoided if physical advances only felt good through true love. Of course this world is too bitchy to give us any outside indication that we ARE with our true love.

True love, I'm not even sure I believe in it. How can you know, anyway? You haven't met every girl in the world. You haven't had the time or chance to analyze even all of your friends.

Anyway, I still want to hear from you. BrAveryK@gmail.com

Any one of you could write these entries. It's just a matter of remembering who you are. You'd be surprised how many people relate.

Thank God for those of you who are The Narrator.