Take a look in the mirror.
Who is that?

    I sat down and had a long discussion with the man I saw...and I've come to find that the guy I see is barely here and never there.
    He's usually uncaring, distant in thought, and not really focusing on what's in front of him.  Sometimes he lets good things go to waste, and sometimes he holds on to things he doesn't want.  He's a very interesting character...ever so contradictory in his nature.  He'd tell you not to smoke pot and then light a bong and preach to you the downsides of marijuana.  Occasionally he sabotages himself just to see if it will work, if he even has a reason.  He hopes that everything he's doing is somehow going to help people, which is odd because he hates everyone.  He's always been the guy who looked back and wondered what happened to people no longer in his life, but at the same time never wants to remember almost anyone he knows right now.  Maybe it's because back then he didn't mind people so much...he didn't know who they really were yet; they didn't hate him for being different.
    He likes speaking in tongues,  studying faces in parking lots, driving backwards in the fog, and colorful clothing in the sun, all because it doesn't remind him of anything.  He wants to be bent, but not broken; obsessed over but not admired; a slave to nothing; a rebellious conformist.  His life is filled with ups and downs, some major, some minor.  He blows a lot of things out of proportion.  He makes a lot of "educated guesses" (as he calls them) that are sometimes far-fetched.  Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to notice it until it's too late and he's acted upon his decision.  He's proud, which is worthless.  Pride never helps anyone, it only hurts.  Sometimes he says things without meaning them.  Sometimes he catches himself saying these things and doesn't do anything about it.  Sometimes he knew what he was doing wasn't what he wanted to begin with, but he continues on.  Usually he knows h's gonna get in trouble, but he doesn't care.  He's been punished.  He's been rewarded.  He's been ignored most of is life, and deep down he's probably just screaming for attention.  He has needs.  He has wants.  He has theories.  He has hopes.  He has dreams.  He has a serious problem with just about everything everyone does, no matter how insignificant the act or turn of phrase.
    When it comes to how to live his life he can't be told; he thinks he's got it all under control.  He thinks he knows it’s not a problem he’s stuck with, but in reality it'd be a problem to just quit.  He idolizes sardonic jerks.  He strives to be a witty, hurtful little imp.  He pushes people away that needed him and pulls those who don't in.  He makes people need him.  He plays with psycho-logistical aspects of others' psyches to manipulate a controlled response.  He's one sick cookie.  He's compassionate.  He's uncaring.  He's involved.  He's aloof.  He's a genius, but he's such an idiot.  He makes it count, but he wastes it all.  He looks at his watch and wonder if the time's been stolen.  He keeps secrets he's burning to tell.  He says one thing and thinks another.  He does one thing and wishes he'd done another.  He thinks too much about everything that doesn't matter, but not enough about things that do.  He's got everything backwards and it's still straighter than his peers.  He's figured a few things out, but he doesn't know anything compared to what there is to know.  He thinks it's a start, but it's most likely his end.  He's fading to black and popping down Prozac.
    He makes deals he knows he won't come through on.  He makes promises he can't keep.  He stabs in the dark and calls it an honest try.  He takes without asking, and then he asks without taking.  He's mildly hypocritical.  He's mildly ironic.  He was an accident, and they've never let him forget.  He's pushed aside important things.  He's tried so hard to fail himself, and he's succeeded numerous times.  He regrets things he knows he shouldn't, but part of him feels a longing he can't ignore.  His own thoughts are constantly nagging at him, pulling at him, and eating away at him while on the outside he looks like he hasn't got a care in the world.
    He's wanted things so desperately that he just made up excuses for and didn't ever get around to.  He's regretted those things ever since, and it holds him back still.  He can't talk about his problems for his unnatural fear of rejection.  This fear is paired ever so delicately with an unnatural ability to forget anyone and just do what he wants, even though he may be rejected or fail.  He knows he likes to let people think what they want to, but he pushes them, subtly, to have a certain perception.  He's insecure.  He's bored.  He's self-assured.  He's the most excited person on earth.
    He's singular, he's got duality, he's multi-faceted, he's a prick.  He's stubborn and upset and doesn't care either way.  It doesn't bother him that he's the person he's become, but he can look at others and know it hurts them and he cares enough to wonder what to do to help.  He loves, he hates, he laughs and cries; sometimes all at once.  He can't find hope to believe in, but he doesn't need it.  He tells himself he's fine, and only he knows the truth.  He is.  He's fantastic, but he knows he's only half right.  He's lost and confused.  He's found and knowledgeable.  He's ambitious, he's motivated; but he doesn't apply it to things that he actually needs.
He's a clown.  He's a freak.  He's human.  He's an animal.


He's in need of a good hug.