I’m not very good at displaying emotion. That’s probably why I am a bad actor. I seem to have a standard expression for everything. That’s also why people think I’m a cold emotionless bastard. What I lack in emoting on my face, I seem to make up in words. You can read some of what I’ve written on this blog. It’s some deep shit, if I don’t say so myself. People find it weird that I can emote on so many levels. Heck, I find it weird myself.
So I realized that I don’t know how to deal with death. Do I cry? But boys don’t cry do they? What am I supposed to do? It didn’t compute. I went back to my fail safe. I bottled it all up. And I wrote. I cried while writing, but that’s allowed. Writers are supposed to feel. They’re supposed to be these romantic people right. Well, I am romantic. I just cant show it anywhere except when I’m writing. You should see the wall on my room. I have a lot of romantic poems up there.
Well coming back, I wrote, and I cried, and did both together for a while. Then I realized what would be much worse. A few years down the line, a bunch of us would meet, and we would see an empty chair in the group, and it’ll be like a void opened up. And it won’t be a good void, like the kind you have when you’re doped and all. It’ll be a deep dark abyss. And it’ll be cold. Very cold. I wonder what I’ll do then. Sure as hell wont be able to write. I mean it’ll be dark in the abyss won’t it?