REALITY?!?!

(April 2007)

 

I’m not real.The coving on the ceiling is. You can touch it. It does not require feeling or motivation behind the touch. If I stare at it long enough it makes me realise the truth. That surely must make it real. It’s there, everyone can see it and touch it. It does not require meaningful looks, warm embraces, or tender touches. But I do. So if I require all these things and I have never got them then that means I’m not real. There’s a kid of sanctity in knowing this. I’ve never realised I’m NOT real before. It’s kind of a Get Out Of Jail Free Card when you need it. It’s ok I’m not real.I’ve never been wanted, when, ironically that’s all I want. I’ve inspired many people with many feelings: happiness, camaraderie, vanity, anger, GUILT, solace, punchbag, doormat, mirror, shoulder to cry on. I’ve been this and epitomized all these things for loads of people, but if I’m not epitomizing what I want to epitomize then it’s ok because I’m not real.

All you need is love… Yeah that’s true but the song doesn’t go on to explain that love is what makes you real and so if you’re not loved back then it means nothing, which means I’m not real. So it’s ok cos I’m not real. And I mean every type of love. Have no connection with my family anymore so that must have been the first sign to tell me that I wasn’t real. How did I miss it? It’s ok though cos I’m not real.

I’ve never got it right but that’s ok too cos I’m not real. I mean think about it. These things are what makes up a person. I don’t know where home is, I never feel comfortable in my own skin, I’ve never accepted me as a person. (and that has nothing to do with me being gay because I’m not real) My family feel nothing but mundane likeability for me. My nephew will never get to know the real me because I’m not real.

Most of all I am defined by feelings no one has ever defined me by their feelings for me. So I’m not real. The feelings I have towards them are real because they get what they want then they become real. But no one feels a passion towards me which equates to the passion I feel towards them so therefore I am undefined. But its ok because I’m not real.

See there’s no point killing myself because that will cause the people around me to lose their sense of reality. So I would never do that. This is not a cry for help or a suicide note. I don’t want to die. I WANT TO LIVE. There’s no need for me to die because you see I’m not really real. So I have nothing to fear no more because its ok I’m not real.

Everything finally makes sense. You see I’m free now. Before I was expecting too much. Now I know I’m not real I don’t need or want anything. I’m not missing out anymore! You see I’m here to make everyone else feel real. I think there are a lot of people like me but I’m the first one to figure it out. Think about it. Sarah needed me to set her up with John, I put Phoebe on a pedestal, I appealed to Jennifer’s vanity, Carole needed me to love even though I didn’t love her, Bette…well she took and needed everything from me. But my point is what have I actually got? You see it’s ok cos I’m not real.

Now that I know that then I don’t have any reason to get upset about anything anymore. It is not expected of me to get what I think I want. Thinking I need or want things is a ploy to make me think I am real when in all fairness if it wasn’t for everybody else’s opinion of me I wouldn’t be real at all.

Intro

I’m a wannabe lover, a wannabe fighter, a wannabe liver, a wannabe dier, a wannabe journo, a wannabe critic, a wannabe musician, a wannabe poet, a wannabe success, a wannabe hippie, a wannabe hetero, a wannabe homo, a wannabe bohemian, a wannabe commercialist, a wannabe addict, a wannabe tee-total, a wannabe intellectual. Trouble is I don’t seem to have the time, energy, money, patience or talent to do any of the things listed above. This is just a site for my many contradicitng points. I’m not as clever as I think I am but i’m not stupid either. It’s time for ye all to make up your own minds about me.