Did you choose right?

I remember asking you if you wanted to really be my friend and you said yes. You said it mattered to you, and that you cared. What sucks is that you don't understand what a friend is. I don't really feel like making stupid metaphors right now, so I'll just get right to the point.

All you care about is the stuff I do for you. I offer to take you to the mall and spend money on you, and you're hella down to go, but then I ask if you just want to chill, and you don't feel like it.

So basically all this "friendship" really is, is a way for you to get me to do stuff for you. And buy you things. And let you use me, because you know that I won't just leave you alone. Because I'm a REAL friend. And all you are is a leech. And I wanted to spend the one night I had a car with you. I was about to turn my back on some of my REAL friends to hang out with you.

Did you choose right when you said you wanted to be my friend? Were you telling the truth when you said that you cared? Probably not. But I'll make the right choice. I'd rather save my money for people who actually care about ME. My real friends who ride or die. I'm tired of your fakeness, and your false appreciation. Especially when no one else would do what I would for you.

It's ok, though. It's my fault for letting you. I'm just saying it's over now. If you really want to be my friend, then you can try to prove it to me. Until then, I'm done spending 10 dollars a week on you.

And you're probably gonna say something like how I'm butthurt or whatever. But really, if you were my friend, you would have said yes, and not assumed I was trying to ask you out. I hope that sushi I brought you tasted good. Hahaha.

Also, if you were busy or something, you could have said so. So don't blame me if I'm pissed off that you only want to hang with me when I'm buying you something.

[titlehere]

I don't know what this is going to be about, but I just had the sudden impulse to write something after listening to The Beatles for like half an hour. I should start with something a little earlier, though.

I was watching videos on the youtubes. It started with Gabe Bondoc at FAP, playing his cover medley. Then moved on to The Adrian William Project - On My Way Down. Afterwards, I went to Jason Mraz - Beautiful Mess, followed by You and I Both. Then it went to Alyssa Bernal covering Hallelujah (the one from Shrek). I thought about searching up Casting Crowns and Smash Mouth, but I got distracted by Kate Voegele's cover of Hallelujah, followed by a bunch of random international "Idol" singers. Then I got into The Beatles. And this is where I start.

I wonder what it must have felt like writing their music. They're not really my style, I don't like them all that much, but people who have covered their songs and made it different than the original bring out the actual potential of the songs. Like Come Together. Oh my freakin jeeze. I think the only Beatles song that I like in its original format is "All you Need is Love" and that's about it. Just because they ran the whole orchestra thing in an awesome way. Enough of that, though, I think I just found out what this post is gonna be about.

I don't know what kind of music I like anymore. I don't know, I've been confused lately. There's so much good stuff. My favorite song right now really isn't even my usual style. It's Maybach Music with T-Pain, Kanye West, Rick Ross, and Lil Wayne. I don't even like Lil Wayne. And I've never been too partial to that kind of rap. Like, I look at Jason Mraz and John Mayer, and they're great, I love acoustic, but I'm just not feeling it too much. Then there's electrocoustic. Owl City, Nevershoutnever! and whatnot. I haven't listened to straight up emo music in a while. I might try that out again, but I'm not feeling very hyped. Just dull, and sad, rather than angry. And I think slow jams or acoustic music is better when you're sad. Hardcore screamo is much better when you're angry.

I don't know what I want anymore. It's hard to choose one or the other, but it is obvious which one treats you better. But even so, sometimes you just really want the other one. Music makes my brain fickle. Ah, whatever, I'll just keep listening. Something's bound to catch my attention.

I'll hallow your ween.

Why do I always feel left out when you're around? Oh right, because I can't sit next to you, or look at you, or do anything around you, because you'll just walk away, and I don't want you to be detatched from the rest of us. So, I'll just be left out, so you can be comfortable.

Fuckin hell.

I'm suffocating.

I always wanna write something mushy. You know those pictures with the shoes of the guy and the girl, and they're kissing or something. Everytime I see those, I feel like composing some kind of art to compliment it. Like a melody plays in the confines of my head and a whole ballad writes itself out behind my eyes where only I can see it. None of it is really coherent, and it doesn't make sense, so by the time I reach the point of expressing it outwardly, it's just a jumble of feelings, and I don't know what to say. All I know is that, I feel light, and content. Like everytime I really take a moment to look at those pictures, I immerse myself so fully into it that I become part of it. I'm wearing those SB's. Or those Vans. Or those Chucks. And my one and only is in front of me. And I can lose myself in her eyes, without having to worry about anything. Because God gave her to me for that sole purpose, and I'm just a part of that plan of His. And so is she. And our lives are intertwined.

And then there's reality.

I'd rather just live in the photograph. Reality is way too depressing for my tastes. I'm one of those people that dreams about vibrant green fields of grass, warm sunshine, cool breezes, and birds singing, and all of that pretty stuff. If I could have a choice, I'd let my body sleep, and I would live inside my own world. With the girl from the picture. And I would be happy.

And then there's reality.

Ugh.

I stopped singing worship songs. I realized that I'm not humble enough to lead people into worship. Mostly because all I really want is for everyone to look at me, and to hear my voice. My beautiful wonderful voice, because I'm so good at singing. Yeah, I'm the best guy singer in norcal. Yeah, I'm so much better than everyone, I'm so good, you should all listen to me, and compliment me, and tell me how good I am.

That's how I feel when I'm singing for the music ministry. And I hate myself everytime I do it. Better to not do it at all, than to do it for the wrong reason. The thing I hate most though, is that I don't only want everyone to see me. I want one person to see me. I want you to see me. And hear me. And tell me how good I am. I want to see you at practice, and I want to sing for you, because this is the only good thing that I have about myself. I don't have the looks, or even the personality. I don't have the swagger, I don't have to "moves" I don't have anything. Just my voice. It's the only thing that I really, truly, honestly excell at. I just want you to notice me. Sounds stupid when I reread it. I know it is. But I can't just change what I feel. I wish, so badly that I could. Somebody told me it's something I have to "overcome" but that's wrong. You're not an obsticle to be endured through. You're not just something I have to get over. Not after a whole year of this crap. All these blogs, all this time spent getting to know who you really are, and letting you know who I really am. And I'm so scared to mess up, because I treasure your friendship more than anything in this world.

All I can do is mutter under my breath, and think to myself, and imagine you being that girl in the picture.

And then there's reality.

I just can't sing worship in your name. It has to be in God's name, and if I'm not doing that, I'm committing the worst sin anyone could ever commit. And I won't do that. I can't do it until I change. Which will probably never happen.

Sorry music ministry. And so long. It was good while it lasted.

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional

You understand the words of the chorus? No one ever listens to the lyrics anymore. The first time I listened to this song, it made my spine shiver. The low, mellow build up from the verse that leads into the explosion of sound at the chorus, as the lyrics proclaim the very extent of the regard that this boy holds for this girl. It's like... GENIUS.

His hopes are so high that her kiss might kill him. Because he's wanted it for so long, and she's so amazing, and beautiful, and everything that he dreams for. And even if that one kiss was to kill him, he would die content, and happy, in the knowledge that she held him in the same regard.

The voice of the vocalist makes the song sound solemn and sad, but it's really a happy ending after the bridge, because they end up being together. Hands Down, song of the year.

Maybe I'm stupid for analyzing this too in-depth, but I like this stuff. And nobody else ever realizes how deep these words go. And how far these things extend. Sure, if you're catholic, and you pay attention to your religion, none of this stuff should be real in any way. HOWEVER, what if God sent that girl to be with that boy? And what if they both believed that? Wouldn't that make it real? So let's assume they follow the Word of the Lord Jesus Christ, and they live by God's testament, etc. Just so we can understand the depth of this stuff, because they were meant for eachother.

And I know, they're just fictional characters derived from a song by Dashboard Confessional, but this scenario has happened repetitively over the decades of the Earth's existence. And this is the raw base of human emotion. LOVE is the foundation upon which we stake everything else. This is like, so freakin expansive that this one post isn't gonna cover it all, but it doesn't even matter, because it's the truth. And when somebody finds their ONE, a ballad should be written about it. Songs about it should permeate the air, and it should be sung by a chorus of freakin ANGELS. With harps and stuff.

Blah, I don't know where I'm going with this. I just got excited to write about something. I thought it was gonna be a sad post, but I guess not. Haha. Ok, I'm gonna go read.

I'm tired.

I always write something sad, even though I want to write something happy. I could start with something profound and inspiring and then end up with something gray and unrelentingly disheartening. And I don't like doing it, it's just that I can't think of anything else. It's always about rain and sadness. Or something like that. Blaaah. Ok, I'm just gonna think of something that makes me happy..

The sky was pale, and the light of the outside was slowly darkening as the sun gradually set behind the horizon, giving the neighborhood a gray-hued appearence. The wind was cold as I stepped out of the house, the rest of my group trailing behind me. I walked slowly down the driveway, my hands concealed in my pockets as I went to lean on the front passenger side door of the car. The others were coming out then, walking around to their respective rides, talking with one another. I wasn't listening to them. I stared down my chest at the cross hanging from the tip of the rosary that was around my neck. I fell into a dream-like state, my mind set on other things than the present, because none of it held my interest.

Then, as if to wake me from my slumber, I heard my name called once. The voice was familiar, and I was glad to hear it directed at me, though my experiences with it were bitter-sweet and meant for a different story. All the same, my attention was drawn back to reality as I lifted my down-turned head and looked up at the source of the sound. She was looking me in the face, which caused me discomfort. "Yes," I replied, attempting to sound indifferent.

What her lips mouthed out next brought on a wave of disbelief, combined with both awe and gratitude. Time slowed, and I lost the ability to comprehend. I couldn't understand. And then the sound of her voice registered in my ears, and the words resounded ever so clearly: "I love you."

After that, nothing mattered. And my memory fails me as to what happened next. Only vague outlines of the rest of the evening. That was the day my doom was sealed. that was the day I truely died.

A thousand suns.

Rage. Pent up within the dark recesses of my mind, and brought to the surface by the lack of mental stability that couples unconsciousness.

And yet who am I to be angry? It was by my own failure that I am condemned to a life of solitary discomfort. Somebody shoot me.

I have a lack of coherent thoughts to write about. Only images locked like welded iron inside of my memories. How I wish I could forget. How I hope and pray that my mind no longer remembers and that it simply erases the images held within them. They continue to tear at my mind, the harder I try to relinquish them. What can I do but reprint them a thousand times over within my mind? I can do nothing.

Of course there's always a slight distraction, but none permanent, and none completely distracting. I'm always left thinking, one way or the other. Agh. My blight. My infirmity. I sing the phrase, "Woe Is Me" as if it were an autobiography. I do feel sorrow for myself, proving my weakness. I am unable to raise to my full height of self-esteem, because I am but the exoskeleton shed by the former me.

If I am to die in this state, I pray it is soon. Madness threatens the internal affairs of my own logic and sanity. Then what will I be left with? As I see it now, nothing. I will be left with nothing at all. So let my passing into the void be swift, that I am not forced to confront such a fate as the suffering plotted out by insanity, and free me from my burdens.

Ugh... And I hate writing in such a manner. I feel like I'm trying too hard to sound like Shakespeare. To be or not to be? Is it really the question, or are you just messing with us? I know the answer to the question either way. The world is so full of disappointments, the answer HAS to be the latter. Only an illogical person would choose the former. Yet there are those who love life beyond the point of logic, so an individual cannot simply dissuade them to modify their choice. Fortunately for me, I am not one of those who loves life. Perhaps the people that are connected with my life, but not my own. Especially not my own.

I'm getting tired and this post is getting boring. Blegh.