I care more about finding a fulfilling relationship than grad school. I refuse to plan more than three months ahead in my life until I know someone can care about me for more than six (seven, eight?) weeks. If you love someone, set them free. I have never set anyone free, which lends credence to the notion I have never loved. I am trying to come up with a “manifesto” of sorts for Love Nothing Day (February 15th). My main ideas are “we don't believe in manifestos”, “we believe in contradictions”, or the currently popular “air your grievances”. Time to cut the shit and tell everyone how you feel (since for many Valentine's Day is a time for telling how you're supposed to feel).
Pictures are worth a thousand words or this seemed like a good idea at the time:
That last one has way too fucking much symbolism. And to think, the last thing we did together was watch the movie DOOM. I just realized I am not myself in any of those pictures. I am not a KISS fan (it's ironic!). Well… I guess I am me in Derick! but we only kinda dated and for less than a week. I–Von Dutch hat–that one should be obvious. I talk too much to be a mime, and my French is awful.
Today I was journalling and found a quick route to nihilism via solipsism. I do not exist. In order to test the theory I walked to the display case where for the past week there has been a photograph of me melded with my roommate (I become those around me). There was no photograph. There were paintings of rocks.
I not nearly as good at people as I would like to be. My new goal is to make new mistakes and therefore escape the cycle of loneliness > crush > desperation > unexpected fulfillment > disenchantment > loneliness. Despite my distaste for the mechanics of Duluth and the gay scene in general, I am content enough here for now. Moving does not solve problems (but moving on might. merde.). My connections only arise and matter because I make them. Everything does not have to be a sign, but I enjoy the literary even if I am let down in the end. I am in a perpetual state of leading myself on.
I think there is a boy whom I need to write a letter, but I have no idea what to say. Last time I tried to be confident and get what I want, I was rewarded with apathy. Maybe this is my letter to you, assuming you are reading. I crashed the van. I created the meaning. Where does the story go from here?