" It's getting dark, too dark too see..."
- Bob Dylan, " Knocking on Heaven's Door".
Hyper-activity, that's the answer, that's the huge problem that has been dominating, fucking-up, destroying my life.
At least that's what some people have told me in the past, ( mostly the "grown-ups" of my life, teachers, etc...) - that I'm hyper-active, hyper-emotional, and hyper-rebelious.
But what really does that mean - hyper-activity ? Why shouldn't I just be myself- at the end of the day, I like myself alot more when I'm allowed to be myself.
Other people like me more too, when I let me be me...
What does it really mean - over-active imagination, over- thinking, being too perceptive, too inquisitive ?
Basically, thinking too much.
Over-analyzing.
Not being satisfied.
I remember so well all of the reports that my Ma recieved from my schools -
"Jeremy really seeks attention. He's quite hyperactive, disruptive in class. He calls out in class with either the correct answers or just jokes - sometimes they are a bit of both."
I was so bored.
Unless I was doing something, ( normally, only something that I wanted to do), I was bored, uninterested.
Not satisfied.
Then I discovered alcohol.
I probably discovered masterbation first, but alcohol seemed (and was), more effective.
More numbing, more mellowing.
Masterbation only made me hornier, more restless.
They couldn't complain that I was too hyper,too disruptive - if I just could just get drunk and quitely hide in a corner.
I may have actually discovered tobacco first. It also seemed to calm me down, mellow me out.
Relax my hyperactivity.
But in the end, it's never enough.
So, the alcohol did it's job - not that the job was very noble, or at all helpful to me. It basically only helped me and taught me how to lie.-not just to lie to the people around me, the people I care about - but also to myself.
It almost worked.
I became lazy.
Weak.
I tryed to use alcohol to try to change who I was.
I didn't want to misbehave, I didn't want to get yelled at, didn't want to get reprimanded, but most importantly I didn't want to feel the restlessness of hyperactivity.
I didn't want to have the strong personality that I was born with - the strong personality that my Ma always tried to cultivate. Even when I was getting yelled at as a kid, my Ma would try to make sure that I learned something, some kind of lesson.
She trained me, taught me to be strong.
I was too weak to handle it.
I gave up.
I became soft
Sad.
Not funny anymore, not interesting, not challenging.
Alcohol did it's job.
The world told me that I was hyper, I was out of control.
Fuck that !
No regrets, right ?
The people, who in the end, don't give a fuck, who only want to make their own little pieces of the world peaceful, they don't care.
They don't want the Jeremy that questions everything.
They don't want the one who analysizes everything.
They don't want the one who creates.
They don't want the who who cries or the one that sings.
They don't want the one who dreams or the one that screams.
All they really want is the fucked-up version.
The one who drinks too much and is easily manipulated.
The one who secretly gets drunk and because he doesn't want problems, because he doesn't want to get in trouble - tries to remain secret, but in the end is so ridiculous,
the one who lies,
so obvious,
and finally, in the end seems so sad.
"Big mouth strikes again."
- Bob Dylan, " Knocking on Heaven's Door".
Hyper-activity, that's the answer, that's the huge problem that has been dominating, fucking-up, destroying my life.
At least that's what some people have told me in the past, ( mostly the "grown-ups" of my life, teachers, etc...) - that I'm hyper-active, hyper-emotional, and hyper-rebelious.
But what really does that mean - hyper-activity ? Why shouldn't I just be myself- at the end of the day, I like myself alot more when I'm allowed to be myself.
Other people like me more too, when I let me be me...
What does it really mean - over-active imagination, over- thinking, being too perceptive, too inquisitive ?
Basically, thinking too much.
Over-analyzing.
Not being satisfied.
I remember so well all of the reports that my Ma recieved from my schools -
"Jeremy really seeks attention. He's quite hyperactive, disruptive in class. He calls out in class with either the correct answers or just jokes - sometimes they are a bit of both."
I was so bored.
Unless I was doing something, ( normally, only something that I wanted to do), I was bored, uninterested.
Not satisfied.
Then I discovered alcohol.
I probably discovered masterbation first, but alcohol seemed (and was), more effective.
More numbing, more mellowing.
Masterbation only made me hornier, more restless.
They couldn't complain that I was too hyper,too disruptive - if I just could just get drunk and quitely hide in a corner.
I may have actually discovered tobacco first. It also seemed to calm me down, mellow me out.
Relax my hyperactivity.
But in the end, it's never enough.
So, the alcohol did it's job - not that the job was very noble, or at all helpful to me. It basically only helped me and taught me how to lie.-not just to lie to the people around me, the people I care about - but also to myself.
It almost worked.
I became lazy.
Weak.
I tryed to use alcohol to try to change who I was.
I didn't want to misbehave, I didn't want to get yelled at, didn't want to get reprimanded, but most importantly I didn't want to feel the restlessness of hyperactivity.
I didn't want to have the strong personality that I was born with - the strong personality that my Ma always tried to cultivate. Even when I was getting yelled at as a kid, my Ma would try to make sure that I learned something, some kind of lesson.
She trained me, taught me to be strong.
I was too weak to handle it.
I gave up.
I became soft
Sad.
Not funny anymore, not interesting, not challenging.
Alcohol did it's job.
The world told me that I was hyper, I was out of control.
Fuck that !
No regrets, right ?
The people, who in the end, don't give a fuck, who only want to make their own little pieces of the world peaceful, they don't care.
They don't want the Jeremy that questions everything.
They don't want the one who analysizes everything.
They don't want the one who creates.
They don't want the who who cries or the one that sings.
They don't want the one who dreams or the one that screams.
All they really want is the fucked-up version.
The one who drinks too much and is easily manipulated.
The one who secretly gets drunk and because he doesn't want problems, because he doesn't want to get in trouble - tries to remain secret, but in the end is so ridiculous,
the one who lies,
so obvious,
and finally, in the end seems so sad.
"Big mouth strikes again."
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