What's the point in having a theory when you don't believe in it yourself? I think I'm one of those folks who just doesn't deserve or isn't supposed to be with anyone.
I seem to do nothing but get in the way or ruin peoples' lives. I myself slow down progress. There's just no way to put it. I can try to be charming, I can try to be cute, I can try to be the man of every girl's dreams, but I never turn out to be that guy. I just end up being that guy who ends up getting in the way of what every girl really wants. As much effort I can possibly put into a relationship, it always ends up sour. Right now all I'm trying to do is just be that guy that just cares about everyone's feelings and just disregards his own.
Fuck me, I'm not important, I'm just a guy that wants people to be happy in their own right, and there's nothing I can do to change that.
I am no one important, I'm just Kolin to people, and how the see me is no longer that important. I know that some people love me or at least say that they do, but I don't even think that matters.
I never expect anything back from the people I try to help besides the slight sense of satisfaction in knowing that I helped in making them happy even if it were for more than a moment.
No one really knows the insides and outs of who I am. I am a clinically depressed person who just wants to be loved, but no one ever really takes the time to see that because once I'm done helping them, they're off to find their own passions, disregarding any cry for help I might surrender.
It's not that I want to be miserable or that I just crave attention. I just like the feeling of someone returning the favor, and for whatever reason I can feel like someone really cares is when I'm writing. The number one person who seems to care is my pen and my notebook. Since It would seem like they're the only ones who are really listening. When my ink enters into these pages, the feeling is more and more wonderful than the feeling of semen into a pussy. If I could even make that sort of metaphor.
What is the meaning of my existence? To apologize about all the wrong I've committed? To fake my own happiness? To make others feel happier than I could ever dream of being? I've never been happy, that is just a fact I've come to terms with.
Why is it I was able to walk away from that car crash? So that I would be able to apologize for the biggest mistake and conundrum I've ever caused? I pray to God that that isn't true. I can only dream of the things I am supposed to accomplish in my lifetime, but probably never will.
I am only alive to make others happy and to give encouragement to those who need it. I am not alive to grow old with the woman of my dreams and raise a family to call my own. I am nothing, I am no one. I am the wallflower who everyone looks at, stares to and gets quick advice from or even achieves bits of enlightenment from.
I am nothing but a dream
Everyone please wake up now
the dream is over
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