the cheese stands alone

i spent the past weekend camping with about 15 people, some close friends, some not. i had a good time overall but oftentimes i found myself alone with my thoughts even when i was surrounded by people. cliche much? maybe it was the high, but i felt disconnected in a way where i was not sad, just pensive.

i am starting to question my friendships, which is something i rarely do. lately b. has been realizing that there are few people she has history with, be it friends or otherwise, but for me the thought process is going in reverse. i know too many people, i wouldnt consider half of them my friends, but a lot of these people would make it seem as such when theres no basis for it, whether that is for my benefit or for theirs varies case by case. the people that i do consider real friends, love me. i have felt this love & sometimes it feels like my heart will explode & i would do anything for these people... but now i am starting to question how they see me. i think i am a good friend, a good person. i am loving & loyal above all things, honest & trustworthy: that is how i see myself. my flaws are being selfish & possesive, i am always late & can be somewhat demanding. both positive & negative qualities are abundant, hopefully the positive outweigh the negative.

i want to know how i am perceived by my peers, & not in a superficial way at all. one can often think the world of themselves & because of it, be blind to the reality of their being. i try to be less selfish than is in my nature & more honest than most - but i can only help but wonder what others see through my actions, because surely they cannot hear my thoughts or feel what is contained in my heart. lately i have been trying harder to make certain that my everyday actions & interactions support the foundations of my convictions.

id like to believe that my friends would point out any issues they have with me, bring them to my attention so that i may attempt to better myself & turn those minuses into plus signs; but i am afraid of what they think of me, what horrible things they would have to say if all my paranoia is justified. i would like to know, but its the fear of never knowing that kills me. the fear of wasting my time with more people that will turn out not to give a fuck about me.





i feel like i am reverting back into myself, becoming concave somehow. its like im waiting for something to fill me up. drinking, drugs, dancing, friends, relationships, drawing, books, school & there is always something missing. maybe its me?