Emo, Volume One

I've got a lot of angst and it makes me want to write poetry. But I'm not sure, you know? Because I'm really sensitive about what other people think of me, and I'm afraid that if the poetry is bad they'll say mean things about me. And I just spent like $300 on this pair of pants and everyone thinks they're pretty cool, but I'm not sure if they alone can make up for bad poetry.

I wonder if girls like my hair like this. Maybe I should flip it to the side.

I was walking across the courtyard the other day and I saw this pigeon sort of limping around on one leg, dragging itself across the red bricks. There was this crow sort of chasing it, keeping an eye on it, pecking at it every once in a while. My heart really went out to that pigeon. I felt like I knew what it felt like, you know what I mean? Like, we all at one time or another have been really down, you know, beat down by others bigger than us or smarter than us or cooler than us or with better jeans than us. And it feels like you're crippled, like emotionally, you know? And you can't get away from all those people pecking at you and making you feel small. I wanted to go over and pick up that pigeon and save it and nurse it back to health, but in the end I left it because I didn't want to get rabies or something like that. I'm pretty sure it died and was eaten by that crow. Sad.

I'm thinking of getting a tie to look cool. I think it would look pretty cool, but maybe it's too daring. Maybe I should just buy one of those vampire books instead.

I was hanging out at the mall last week, by myself of course, and while I was waiting for my order at Kidd Valley to come up I realized something: like, everything's kind of an illusion, you know? Like, perceptions are so dishonest sometimes. I look around and I see a bunch of tools in their Gap clothes or something, and I feel like they don't know what it's like to be me, but then I thought maybe I don't really know what it's like to be them. Maybe it's just as hard to be them and to have to follow all the rules of their own social world as it is for me to deal with the pain of being self-aware and upper middle-class. Like, maybe we all have a lot more in common with each other than we have differences. Maybe if we were all just forced to go to one party together, and share the same space with no escape, that we'd come to some kind of common ground and find out we're really all not that bad, and that this tie I bought is really pretty cool. And then my burger was ready and I kind of forgot about it. Maybe I should take a really awesome stance and stop eating meat.

Gotta go now. I'm heading over to Lily's place to watch the O.C. on DVD.