Ready The Camera, Cue The Voiceover

Time, it goes slow sometimes and faster other times and each way it goes, whether backwards or forwards, we all know that one way or another it's going to leave us hanging in the balance if we believe it really can go both ways, either ways. But not way, it can't. That would not be controlled, like is the fighting now of the brain of the whole of the wow I am writing this fast and I feel like maybe I'm making a run-on sentence now. So. Pouvons-nous vraiment perdre notre tomps en faisant n'importe quoi? Qui sait? Ok so this is my attempt at continuing and following the thread that I am subconsciously yet automatically making. Go on, the camera is panning, tracking each movement along the line, and these words you see here are the voiceover that accompanies the lovely images you see in your head. Tick. Tock. Please, this isn't any time to have one-word sentences that aren't really grammatically correct but at this time there is little care for such things. I'm still heaving that emotional brick I exposed last night, it's still crushing me - because I let it. I don't know how to stop it even though consciously I should, I don't want to listen to anyone tell me how to do it because I think I have to already have the answer yet I'm not really in the mood to listen to myself because I don't trust myself enough in order not to get into crap. So here's the predicament then, why this wall of text is so long, is because the thread goes on and on until someone decides to cut it, which probably will be me, but it might also be circumstance in which case it is me in the guise of something that is not me. Hear hear, I'm confused too. Should I go out clubbing? Drinking? Partying? I remember the ball last year, and that was fun, except then I had no alcohol and dancing, while awkward at times, was actually quite fun once I realised that no one around me really cared about how I did dance. Once there were some girls that I liked, at one point in the night I mean, that came around and they danced in front of me. The one in the yellow dress was quite good and they seemed to actually dance with each other which if you've never seen is quite nice to watch, not because it's sensual, arousing, sexually appealing or whatever else you want to call your horniness, but because it's freeing, it's much less constricted by the thoughts of others. I.e. they don't care what you think about, they just dance, and they move with the flow. I wished I could do that, I wasn't very good at what I was actually doing there because I got held up by my embarassment and my surprise that they were kind enough to actually come and say hi. For the brief moments of their sejour that they stayed in front of my awkwardly moving body, I felt out of place, because those girls, were cool girls. They had lives of their own, they had their own little swagger-thing going on (je ne sais pas si j'ai utilisé le mot correctement mais ça ne fait rien maintenant) and I felt included by their presence. Then they left, so I turned around back to my circle of awkwardness where I felt less awkward because the awkward friends that were dancing were awkward themselves and I felt like I was dancing better because I didn't look quite so awkward from my eyes compared to them. But of course, back then was still prime ego time, which means my eyes weren't quite open to what I was doing. So then the question arose lately whether I want to go clubbing. Odd, there's people that say they want to see me get drunk, so maybe I might be a happy drunk, but hopefully not an aggressive drunk or an emo drunk... I don't think I would fall into either latter categories but you never know, I might be hoarding emotional turmoil for revenge on some unsuspecting citizen. I don't think I can pull off the Veronica Mars quips and smart-ass comments so I'll just keep going on my own little train of thought and not tell myself that I'm Veronica Mars, because I'm not. She's funny, she's not real. I'm. I am. I am. Ok, the more I say that, the more weird it sounds in the eyes of me seeing through what I perceive are eyes of others. I tend to do that, look at how other people look at me. It's paranoia, that's what it is. There's this girl that I want to ask out, because she's great, funny, modest, smart... I feel she knows a lot about herself and that's what I think really attracts me to her, besides her visual appeal, which there's plenty of so I don't need that box ticked especially, but in this case it is (yay). Still I don't know if she likes me because she's into her own little things and I don't think I fit into her wall of text if she ever did write one. Possibly not. I act different, I say that a lot, and if you know how I act around people you would be able to tell that I did act different. Why do I act different - and why am I so scared of really opening up to people? I don't think people will approve. It sucks when you're in the world and you want to open up to people but just before that you uncover a certain barrier, a glass piece that has needles in it. They sting if you get closer. Magnetism pulls you closer, but you can turn the switch off with a quick shot of alcohol probably. I don't really want to lose control. I fear that if I'm drunk people might actually get to know who I really am and will push me away because they will find me different. Two things though - can you get drunk and actually show off who you really are? I think that's a good question because it's honest and you can tell what others would be thinking of you. I sound like Christopher Boone here, Asperger's? *shrug* I want people to know who I am. I want to be authentic with myself. I know some aren't quite yet ready to accept, but I think those that I do meet and connect with are. The consensus is that I act differently because it's a mechanism for security - if I'm funny, people like me, I make friends, I am happy for a time. But it's not real, because while around people I am mostly funny, jokey, sarcastic-at-times, it's not really me, it's just designed to get them to like me because if they don't I'll be a sore loser that's alone and has no friends. Pathetic. I would call it scared, actually. I'm just terrified inside. It's not quite the excuse I was going for but it will do. Fear ain't real, yet I believe it is so I place my belief in it and voila, life threatening situation sentiment. It was so easy to slip that coin into the slot that I keep doing it on and on... someday, now, I wish I wish I wish now, it would be now... that I save my imaginary money and stop gambling with what I think is real. Where to then? Where to? Hitchhiking somewhere maybe? I am scared of what might happen, and so we come to the point where I would say something inspiring so I can conquer my fear. There's nothing really I can do, but shatter the glass, be who I am. After all, who I am has no requirements. I give love to people and allow them to be who they are, for the hope that they would do the same to me. And if they don't? If if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if if. If then clause. Yeah. If I go clubbing, drink, relax, dull the barrier, I could run through. Oh here's what Blaise Pascal has to say, according to the calendar.
"We run carelessly to the precipice, after we have put something before us to prevent us from seeing it."
This tells me that when I am not inebriated is the best moment to be who I am. That way, they can get used to me - not that there's anything to get used to, but I seem to think there is. Seriously, the glass pane I put up for my own protection early on in life, has to come down. It has to. It has to.