Outsider

One of my worries of late has been about my old friends. Recently it was hammered home to me that I’d not been spending time with those who I used to class as closest to me. And as a result I’ve well and truly thrown myself from the circle of friendship. I don’t feel like I can address the problem fully though because it’s a bigger group than it used to be. And it now comprises of some people I really don’t like. And it’s impossible to talk to one person, and it not filter through the whole group. And I know they talk about me behind my back, and I know that as a whole they fucking hate me.

I guess this would be a million times worse If I didn’t have some epic friends who are always there for me. But I feel guilty burdening people with my, to be fair, self-inflicted problems when they all have things of their own to deal with. So, in an attempt to write down some of my thoughts I wrote another poem. I must apologise for the quality and quantity of my poems. They’re not really meant to be read, I just like putting thoughts down. And if you can make any sense of them then you’re probably in, or have been, in a similar situation. Either which way you’ll probably detest the analogy I chose.

A circle of light,
a chain of faces
unbroken and impenetrable.
No entry, no exit.

And then the light fades,
I’m moving backwards,
slow at first,
I do not understand.

I watch, stay, do nothing,
make no sound,
moving quicker,
quicker, lights become dim.

The edge of the circle
passes my side,
I am out.
Too late, it has passed.

I do not know how,
I wish to be inside,
yet I see only the turned heads,
of people I once knew.

I cannot turn one head,
without turning them all.
There is no easy way in,
out once, out forever.

There is no easy way,
no one step at a time.
No, jump down all of the steps, plunge,
or never see the bottom again.

And still the light there shines,
but now it seems tinted.
Green, red.
A white flag would looked coloured in their eyes.

I have changed.

Well, sorry for wasting more of your time. I guess I just have decide where I want to go and focus. But if you don’t know where you’re going then any path can take you there! And I really don’t feel like choosing a path right now.

Knowledge, Wisdom, other.

So I’ve decided that major reforms aren’t in order – thank you Michael. However, I wanted to try something a bit different so I’ll try and inject it somewhere in the ensuing entry.

I finished watching American Beauty about 30 minutes ago, my word is that film thought-provoking. Needless to say I cried in certain points and one line in particular has implanted itself into my memory already: “There’s nothing worse in life than being ordinary.” Well I’d say I’m pretty much 50/50 split on my agreement with that. Sure, ordinary can be boring – doing the same thing day in, day out, meeting the same people, being the same person, conforming to “their” standards and living a desperately prescribed life. However, on the flip side of the coin ordinary can be amazing. Surely ordinary is a calm, relaxing and peaceful state? Ordinary is beige, not glaringly bohemian yet by no means resignedly dull either. Ordinary, like beige, is a haven from the extremes we create in our lives. Ordinary is good once in a while, and we would do well not to synonamise ordinary with boring.

Additionally, the writer brought up the issue of beauty. Not chick-flick, skin deep “How big are your boobs?” beauty, but true natural beauty. And to me true beauty is really hard to find. I’m quite willing to admit that I’m often so engrossed in my ultimately insignificant quotidienne that I often ignore what is all around me, and I expect that it is this that makes me so ignorant to the beauty of things around me. But beauty is a concept, and I fear it’s one I don’t fully understand. Not through lack of trying. I, I just tend to think about things too much? And often I attribute what some would class as beauty to other things. I can’t really explain it, as you’ve already seen – in fact, I made quite the pig’s ear of that entire section!

So I’ll move on. I wrote a short poem earlier and this is where I risk offending the masses. I’m not a writer, I have very little knowledge of the intricacies of the English language and I don’t particularly like making things follow a pattern if I’m streaming my thoughts. The following isn’t meant to sound pretentious, or naïve, though I fear it will tick both of the boxes on the shameful list.

I can’t describe what I know,
for what I know and believe
are to me a kin yet to you,
lies.

And when I try to tell myself
that the truth I know is false,
I can muster no belief
and I question truth, not self.

When posing question to a truth,
the answer can merely be thought,
and thoughts are born of mind
so to question is to think?

And if to question is to think,
then an answer is to know.
How do I know if I do not question?
And who do I question, who answers?

I cannot question of myself,
for no answer will come of knowledge,
knowledge which comes from question.
I am never to know, but always to question.

Still it plagues me,
question – why?

Yeh, so there it is. Essentially it’s confusion mixed with desperate attempts at reason thrown into some sort of literary format. Perhaps next time I should confine my less legible thoughts to my head!

Lack of legibility – this leads me nicely onto the topic of history homework. Now, if you’ve ever studied the Napoleonic regime with particular reference to the centralisation of French government then please feel free to comment and give me any pearls of wisdom which you wish to share. Because I think it’s safe to say that I haven’t got a clue. I’ve been trying (well, sort of thinking about whilst doing other things) to make an information sheet about the aforementioned area but I’ve had little (read:no) success! So I guess I’ll do what the Bourbon Monarchy did and just give up the ghost!

As I shall with this post, I’m not going to make my next posts too long because I’d risk writing everything I have to say at the moment in a few posts, where I could span it out and not have to worry about what to write. Worry not, I have many many thoughts to come!

For now, however, I bid thee farewell.