My weird self

I over-analyse everything. From the games I play to the situations I’m in, to the reason that girl completely ignored me and, my life I general. I like to score things, to rate them, not a day goes by without me looking for songs on my ipod that I haven’t rated or barely listen to and wondering if I really do like that song or whether I’m influenced by what other people said about it. This stretches to other things for example I just watched the film “The Virgin Suicides” directed by Sofia Coppola in Film Studies and yet I can’t decide what I think about the film myself because I don’t know what other people will make of my opinion.

It’s complicated. I’m forever burdened with wondering what people think of me that I forget to think about myself and what I should do the next time I see the girl I’ve been in love with for the last three years. Should I say hi, hello or aye up? Should I say how wonderful she looks? or should I make the same jokes she’s been laughing at for years just to see that smile once more.

I would blame my Dad and his constant belittling of me, comparing me to by brother and how I should go and do something like he does but that’s just blaming other people, which I’ve been doing for years. It’s all self-inflicted and it’s all the problems that occur at this age, it’s a long and painful journey and through it there’s a chance I can actually become a better and successful person. Get married have some kids, live the dream and die happy one day. As you can probably tell I’m always thinking and probably thinking about thinking and then coming up with the reasons why I’m thinking what I’m thinking. Viscous circle. I just want to stop thinking but I can’t because it all starts again, as it is right now whilst I’m typing this.

Films are an outlet, games are an outlet and music is an outlet to a better, happier more successful place. In fact I probably spend more time daydreaming about saving the girl from armed criminals or playing in a band at a concert full of my friends than I do actually living my life. Or at least barely living it. I really could go on and on and on and it’ll be the same stuff over and over until eventually I snap and kill something but I just really wanted to type something like this up because I view my life from the outside and not from myself, I think as though I’m an outsider looking in and I never know quite what I see.

Oh well, happy days.