Unfinished Thoughts pts. I-V

A series of stories I am trying to write to develop a certain style and a basic writing understanding. This is my first serious ish project and I'd love to get some feedback

I

Before the actual story starts I have to freeze you in the sort of mindset that I believe I’m still in, it’s this teen thing that’s absolutely disgusting by every measure possible. Now let me explain:

It's hard to really narrow it down to just a few words but I guess I could at least try, right? There's this thing, this stupid phenomenon, everybody recognizes it, some worse than others, but we all feel it. ‘The mid-teen crisis.’ Yes, it's exactly the same as a midlife crisis but for teenagers, the only difference being that teenagers don't always like to admit it and think that "no one could ever feel the way they do", f*****g weird right.

(At the same time it's this sort of deny-ism that causes the gap between teenagers, the lack of connection. Especially for those just starting their existential crisis it's hard to even know what you yourself are experiencing and to then feel any empathy at all, is almost impossible.) The only thing someone cares about at that point is themselves, the ego kicks in. Because after all, all teenagers are narcissists.

Now that we have the basic idea, let's try and schematize it all a little. First of all, we have the new comer, the 12-year-old. Most of the time these newbies don't know anything about what they're experiencing yet. Which makes it kind of easy but at the same time pretty hard I suppose. It is, for most of them, the first time life starts really kicking them in the balls. Childhood is becoming slightly vague and all that’s to come is pretty much out of sight.

Then around 14 the real denier comes to life, the rebel, the obnoxious teenager lives. Most of these start questioning their lives and then the entire universe in the time of span of a year or so. Then there’s the mid/ nearing-end-stage types starting at around 16, these are particularly annoying because of their new understanding of the world. A sort of nihilistic way of living starts to take place, but it is in some way nihilism on another level. Not only do they not find meaning within their own experience, they ruin it for everyone around them. Then after all the absurdities, there’s the self-aware phase, in which life has gotten the meaning of non with a slight touch of subjectivity.

Of course I do speak from my own perspective, I can only assume that this is how we all feel and have felt, but I do have to say that I find it absolutely crazy to say that not everyone has a little mid-teen crisis. I understand, we still speak of a certain subjectivity for all of this, no one feels the same exact thing as you and the other way around.

Now, you must’ve asked yourself by now who I am and (way more important) what stage am I in, how could you ever relate to me? Well it’s quite simple, I’m Mory and I’m 16 which I suppose means that I am in ‘that stage’ of life?

 I guess it’s not that simple.

 

 

 

 

II

Do you ever just sit around in like let's a bath tub that might be 20% smaller than your body (which is quite impressive, I'm not that tall at all) and find yourself listening to some psychedelic record and having a mild existential crisis. Yeah, that's probably mid-teen crisis, but in a way it's quite relaxing, you can feel really at home whilst getting lost in thought.  There's the absolute power of individuality that a mid-teen crisis brings, it's the worst part because you get this idea that you yourself are misunderstood and incomprehensible to anyone but you. It's not all bad, because in some way there is some truth behind it. I experience this different and you experience that differently.

 I never quite understood the idea behind self-harm, I find it odd that you'd hurt yourself just for the pain thing, but hey I guess I don't understand other people that well (which is the big idea behind it all, finding the feeling in any other being). Hurting one self ties directly into this idea that we all have different cures. We all have semi-different feelings so we have semi-different cures. My cure is coffee.

The absolute wondrous idea of brown bittersweetness on the tongue, is in and of itself enough to get me excited. Why? You may ask yourself, well I have ginormous headaches everyday and once the coffee hits, it's gone. Healthy? Not at all I'd think, but it's quite the delight I can tell you. From time to time I'll add sugar just for the f**k of it and milk to make some nice artsy-ish stuff. I'm not very sure why it is that I ever started drinking so much coffee, it might have something to do with me starting to drink coffee at around 10-years-old. Not the brightest idea.

This is where I cut off my self analyzing for now, because I'm not sure what it is that I search within me. To be continued this is for now.

 

 

III

Downwards I face, on the pillow I lay. Upwards, I rise. My forehead is imploding whilst my backhead leaves no space for thought, I feel barely awake, my words are like bootleg poetry. Morning it must be. Which then reminds me: Coffee. I wish the day was more exciting than this, but there’s a birthday in this house which means it won’t get a lot more comftorable than it is at this moment. As I pass thorugh the hallway, the coffee it finds me. “Happy birthday, Mother” I greet sarcastically. Don’t get me wrong I love her and the entire family thing, I just really enjoy being semi-serious and copy languages used hitherto. The coffee is too hot but I enjoy it’s smell, it vanishes though, for water vaper hits my eyes, my lungs and my dark brown goodness, Shower, it must be. Yes, I enjoy my morning coffee underneath the shower, shoot me. God must have created showers as a priority. There’s nothing quite like it, the slight hint of coffee underneath the giant water streams, but most important of all: Music. I feel, for today, a light morning-coffee-ish jazz will do. Speaking of god and it’s creations, Charlie Parker is God and jazz is his creation. That’s it, the best moment of the day passes. Well not necessarily, for I still need to eat. It being my mother’s birthday and all, food is overloading our house momentarily, and I proceed to consume.
Well I think it’s passed, my bootleg poetry wording mind that is. Well not completely, let me explain. At any moment of me being slightly tired or completely dead, I start to change in words. My mind limits myself to a certain set of words, this set is like word and sentence structures stolen from poetry. It’s quite the thing. So if at any time at all you feel I’m dragging words and overusing nice words and word-structures, it’s probably because I’m tired and I get tired a lot.
Now back to food I go! I have a slight delight for internet videos about food, I watch too many of them and feel like a chef when making anything in the kitchen nowadays. Food is like nothing else, it is as some would say heaven. Especially if made correctly. Thinly sliced beef meats the doughy bread, then I spread the blue cheese upon it. Yes I said blue cheese, I eat anything in the morning. “NO, that cheese is for our guests!” My mother tells me, me I am slightly disappointed but still happy for at least some of it made it on to the sandwich. That would be about it, for if not, whipped cream I find. Thus, the whipped cream finds my double espresso.
As I finish the sandwich, it so happens to have passed completely. The best moment of my day, nothing will get better than this.
“Hellooo how are you, wow your hair is long you should get a hair cut and you smell like a*s” okay maybe not the a*s part, but this is the base line I hear for at least twenty minutes. The guests find their spot for the day, and I serve coffee. It’s either black or with milk, that is not the coffee name, I sigh mentally, but accept that nobody is interested in good coffee. “That’s Gooddd” Yes I know uncle John, I made it. Uncle John is the sweet guy, he’s  young and fresh and talks like people my age (when they talk in any audible way, that is). “School’s not important, it’s easy but in a bad way” I try to explain but explaining for me is like a puzzle, sometimes you just get lost and throw all pieces onto the ground. Then he leaves, for Young-John must play ball.
I find myself in any place in the house at any time. Not bored just killing time. Food is the most reasonable answer.
My family is in many ways unlike me, well that is the family that came to visit fort he birthday, not the real family I live with (they’re more). No, My “Family” is the most generic thing ever. They live to die and breath to smoke. Yes they all smoke and no I dont hate smoking I just think it’s a dumb habit as an adult. Now I must say I don’t know everything about them of course but all I can really say is that I would’t want to.  That is also to say that they’re of no real interest to anybody else, sorry not sorry. Food again? Yes, dinner it is. Uncle Jim, the real deal hillbilly comes inside after being outisde for hours of smoking and seeks food. Now we had this nice a*s grill set up and I was killing it over there, making the best beef you ever will taste (and yes I added blue cheese on it once more, and yes everybody love dit). Uncle Jim though, seeks not any meat and no he’s not vegan. See, all this man eats is bread, with peanut butter and jelly. You heard it correctly. I must sigh once more internally.

 

IV

I've heard it all before. The lies. In many ways they're lies, but in a way they're not. It's all subjective really. Still I know it's lies, they deceive me. Let me go back a little

Today was a good day, tonight was a great night. I got to be alone at home for a few hours and I felt great, music blasting the bathroom, coffee coating the soft steamed water. Food was all that was left, but I didn't eat for hours. I was home alone I had to sing and dance because it's the only time I really can do that at all. So after singing s****y for an hour or two I find myself eating two pieces of cheese before realizing I am not hungry at all, such a pity. Night shimmers in, five click my ten dollar clock. Nothing interesting happens until dinner let me down. Hunger it is not for food but for something different. (Note: I am writing this quite late and that means that I am quite tired and that I write in bootleg words, can anyone forgive me?). Right, so dinner is done and after dinner play around is done too, I find myself rushing on my bicycle, my almost-ready-to-die bicycle. There I meet the most lovely of all, Audrey, words do not express. We road our bikes going nowhere and sat at the usual spot, the delightful playground, the unusual spot. I wish I could say I'm nervous around her but I'm not, it's more a feeling I feel around most people, the safe-ish playful vibe. We sat together in the park, as the evening sky grew dark. I looked at her and I felt a spark, tingle to the bone. 'T was then I felt alone. I never know words to say around her, just puzzles made of them. We listen to music all night, mostly jazz because after all it's my speaker. We both get very cold very quickly, and she lays her head underneath mine, and I never knew silence could mean that much to me. As if nothing was ever. It could've been all there was, as if there was nothing else. Felt that emptiness inside. We awoke and step up to sit on a swing, and swang. It was all alright so we took of, to head back home. Home we find underneath the starry night and the dark light. At once I held her near and nothing was clear, besides the blaring trumpets. As if it's never been better, I stroke her hand. And she leaves.

Nothing happened, I am the worst at anything, my plans are not existing. I felt my heart drowning itself and closed my eyes, to see, she'd stopped.

She turned around to find me, me in all my unnaturalness. She looked at me and stood straight, words were of no more importance. I could hear her speak, but after a touch of our lips nothing was of need to be said. And I felt underwhelmed. Nothing tv says is real, it's not at all like suddenly everything exists, it's more like it all seizes to. After all, it's my fault for overthinking. It's late and I do feel not so great, I have a ginormous headache and a lust for espresso but am too tired to drink anything.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel, it's nothing like my mind said. It's all like I didn't want anything to be. I feel as if perhaps my love, in it's way, is only existent because of the lack of love before today. Perhaps I don't know what I'm getting myself into. Perhaps I need a good night's rest.

 

V - Random thought

 

In a world of today, it's hard to remember reality. Problems start to create in this bubble of networks, reality starts to fade. In my life I feel it's time to move on and get back to reality, it's not as bad as virtual-reality makes it seem.