Finding My Way

Tonight may be the last night that I spend in the Lemon Grove house. I'm not really saddened by that, I'm just unaware of how I should feel. My room has been the biggest that it will probably ever be and while it is gigantic, it is quite lonely in here. With almost all of the furniture moved out (save for the futon and my mattress) I can't help but feel as though there's a huge part of something or other that should have been here.

I often sleep at night with an extra pillow to hold on to. I don't know if it's to make up for the warmth of another that I'm missing or if it's just some sort of instinctual need for a security that no one thus far has been able to offer, but I know that there's some comfort in imagining that maybe one day I may actually hold somebody in my arms that will look at me with compassion and love.

I've had a few drinks (not manly drinks, just beer) tonight and I suppose that inebriation gives me some sort of inclination towards sentimentality and rumination of my state of humanity, but I can't help but think about the person that I've grown to be over the past four years or so. I often feel as though I've been nothing but a selfish and self-absorbed egoist. Whether or not that is the case I can't help but reflect on my own actions and everything comes out as "I need to try harder." I know that I haven't been the best son, brother, cousin, friend, roommate. But for some reason I don't think that anything that I could do would make me think that I were.

I once (drunkenly) spoke to my roommate Brian about my failures as a human. I feel as though the weight of the world were on my shoulders and I couldn't/can't do anything about it. I have a particular hatred towards the blind and hypnotized masses and wish that they would all come to some sort of consciousness and do right by humanity. I have a hard time in dealing with the fact that I can't change peoples' perspectives on life; that I can't save anyone from any sort of life perils. I fight with the notion that I'm just a kid with a big imagination.

Perhaps that's a big reason that I want to be a cop. I want to make a difference in someone's life. I want to be the guy who helps the battered wife or abused child from the abusive spouse/parent. I need meaning to keep going and thus far in my life I've struggled to find it. I know that I often joke about being the fascist cop who goes around beating and tasing people for my own satisfaction and ego-boosting, but the reality is I want somebody to look up at me and see a person who has made a difference. If I can be an inspiration to somebody, then I think that I would have at least given somebody a chance to be something that I couldn't.

Last night I was alone for a good part of the evening. I don’t know if it was because the friends that had said that plans would be made neglected those plans or that I knew that plans would be neglected that I felt lonelier than ever, but being in a place that harbored no consolation or companionship made the night difficult to deal with. Maybe I just need to deal with the idea of absolute solitude, I don’t know.

I often wonder how it is I can continue to make the same mistakes in life despite having learned my lessons. I don’t know if it’s stubborn determination or utter stupidity, but I always fall into the same idiotic routine as far as my “love life” is concerned. You’d think that after so much rejection and misery I would have learned my lesson. Nobody wants a guy who thinks too much about the world or about his state of being. Nobody wants a guy who’s available. Nobody wants what they can have. And that’s exactly what I am; I’m what you can have, I’m available. I’m human.

I’m sorry that this hasn’t been the funniest post ever, nor has it been the most well-written, but I hope that maybe something has reached somebody out there, that maybe someone read this and did a bit of their own reflection, but I doubt it. Anyways, I guess this makes up for all of the days I’ve gone without “meaningful” posts. I’m tired and need some sleep.