I hate reading.
I love reading.
I can't make up my mind.

And it's not just reading. It's everything that's not my life. There's so much inspiration everywhere for me. I find inspiration in books, movies, music, people, and it never ends. But what is inspiration? Maybe I'm confused. No, I know I'm confused. About everything. My relationships, my schoolwork, and most of all, my future.

Fuck my future.

Ha, if only it were that simple. How can I say fuck my future when it's the only thing I've got to live for? And I hate to think that, but if I'm not living for every tomorrow, what else is there? Today's gone, and I can't change anything I've done. All I can do is wait to see what else I can't change when tomorrow becomes another today. I'm not depressed, but I can't help ponder suicide.

I hate this inspiration.
Because it's not my life.

I want so much to write those songs, to be that kid in those books, to play that role and become that character in those movies, but I can't. It's already too late. I'll never have the same experiences as Charlie in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and I hate that. I want to live in that world. I'm in between the real world and the fake one and I want to get out because I can't have what I want.

Fuck me for being me.

I don't want to be me. Not that I have a problem with me, but I'd much rather be Charlie. Just to know what it's like. I'm going crazy cuz I only have one life and I'll never know what it's like to be you. I want to be you, or him, or her, or anyone else. How can I just live one life? I'd give anything to know what it's like to be Charlie. I'd kill to feel exactly what my girl feels when we fuck. I'd sacrifice the world to be you. Who the you is doesn't matter int he slightest. The only thing that matters is that the you is not me. But would I feel like this if I were you? I'd be me again, but I'd have a whole different set of flaws, addictions, desires, fears, and emotions. Maybe I'd be satisfied being me. But I'm not that me, I'm this me and I can't fucking take it.

I want out.

I miss the times when the meaning of life was a question unknown to me, when I could sit on the playground at school in 3rd grade and watch the cool kids play soccer and be happy just watching. I was fine just watching them. I love people watching while smoking cigarettes with that girl I'll never figure out. But I wish I could and I wish she wasn't so complicated and I wish I could be her or anyone else. People get so offended when you look at them. I love to watch people, but they think I mean something by it. I don't. I just find you interesting and I wouldn't mind at all hearing your stories and telling you mine and becoming a part of your life. But then I'd end up wanting to be you and writing about how I can't stand being me and you'll never know it because I'll never be a part of your life and sometimes that kills me. I've got so many people in my life and I feel alone right now. What can I possibly do to feel okay with me again? I want to feel that so bad. And until then, I'll never know how Charlie felt when he said,

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite."

The sky may be the limit but my sky is falling faster every day and I'm reaching those limits without the satisfaction I should be getting. Fuck me. I want to be okay. I want to talk but no one gets it, and even if they did they're in the same boat as me so fuck them too.

Please, someone, make me okay again.