Blogs.

Recently, my best friend in the whole world started a blog.  We are so close that we often joke that we are "the same person."  Honestly, I see a lot of myself in his posts, and I'm sure he sees some of his own personality traits and mental problems reflected in my words posted here.

He seems really happy with his blog, and has posted 4 posts already, all pretty cynical and frustrated  stream-of-consciousness type pieces, similar to what I often post here.  I've really enjoyed reading those posts and feel a new connection to my friend that can only be felt through the pretentious shared maintenance of online blogs.  Justin, we really are the same person.

Another good friend of mine also keeps an online blog.  He's much, much different from Justin and me.  He still has sincerity in his heart and is still completely vulnerable to the injustices of the world.  Reading his blog softens my heart and brings the occasional tear to my eye as I observe a beautifully idealistic soul struggling to cope with an ugly and totally absurd world.

He makes me long for a past time in my life where I shared the same, or at least similar, purity of heart, and truly only willed one thing: the love of God.  That phase has long passed, and I've lost that fire of sincerity that once burned brightly in my eyes and in my heart.  I am a broken man.  When I look in the mirror, I see the pain and the emptiness of it all, and I have to look away lest I become trapped inside.  I cover it all up by "going hard" and listening to exciting music, writing angry blog posts, and building up my self-confidence by creating my own illusory world that I can retreat to whenever the the one around me proves itself to be too hard and too unforgiving--in other words, when it acts exactly as I know it will.

I live day by day now.  I no longer have an "eternal perspective"--that ended with my belief in God.  (Here's a word of advice for all you believers out there: keep the faith.  It's damn hard to live with nothing.)  I barely live for the future now, finding its uncertainties and potential failures frightening, and instead focus on the present, trying to make the most of what I have.  Because there's nothing else.

I'm not depressed or anything like that.  How can I be?  All hope has been obliterated from my life, but with the disappearance of hope also comes the disappearance of true fear.  My anxieties can all be ignored now, because I can always find comfort in the nihilistic philosophy of "it doesn't really matter" and get back to jerking off or playing xbox or any number of totally useful activities that I am so fond of.

Despite all that, I do find true happiness.  I don't find it in the fulfillment of hopes and dreams anymore, but rather in really unexpected ways--like seeing a friend start a blog and the resultant strengthening of our relationship through this shared experience, or having a little bit of faith in humanity restored, albeit temporarily, through the words of another friend's raw, personal rantings.  My life is really, really good, to be honest, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

I write this blog to help me retain my positivity and constantly restore my love of life.  No matter how dark or brooding a post sounds, I write because I am desperately trying to be positive in my real life.  You can't feel good if you have a ton of shit stuck inside.

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Earlier, I lied.  There is one thing I still have to look forward to--falling in love.

Hopefully it's as good as they say.