A_Conduit

Here is a piece of writing from one of my many notebooks which I think will serve well enough for this.

What am I?, a person, still a teenager. Do I belong to any so called scenes? no.
Why not? Repressed or rogue?, Most probably both.
So who am I?, Jack, that is the name I received.
What have I done with my life?, anything of worth or merit?, I do not believe so.
What do I expect to do with my life?, carry on, nothing, give up?
I expect nothing, carry on for now but I’ll probably give up.
What claims do I have of worth, mere personal achievements
I have spent an inordinate amount of my life worshipping sound
This will not stop until I do, but what is It for, simply to get through the day.
Years of meaningless frustration, so little recorded, so little to help share my shame.
Am I a perfectionist or a failure?, do I take my time to get it right, or do I just take my time?
Am I slow because I try too hard, or because I can only try.
Music is my life, yet my life is passing by without gaining anything
I'm too old already, 19, I should feel as if the world were at my fingertips
but it's not, just some strings bathed in my sweat.
What do I know of the world? Fuck all, I’ve gone nowhere, I’m going nowhere, in any way.
I write bland, monotonous bullshit, lacking in talent or imagination
Wrote not out of passion, but necessity. Necessary to hold onto passion
A way of looking through my daily thoughts in a desperate attempt to find what needs to change
And I just don't know!, I never know, I never know anything, ask me a question and I will stutter for a while, Only to tell you, I don't know. Is that anxiety or retardation, I am a form of downie after all.
Or am I just an idiot, a scumbag, heroin at 14, and I am proud to have beat it, is that all I can take pride in
Beating an addiction I was vile enough to bring upon myself, I fear it is.
Self harming “weirdo”, sick thoughts, ruined body, greedy for feeling, selfish without realising
Helping people just to reassure myself that people do help each other.
School drop-out who received grades for being a “know – it – all” piece of shit.
College drop-out who received the same treatment
Tried to be a mechanic, but the sounds of machines was too much before long.
Give up on everything, claim to hate everything, claiming to feel nothing, ever
More lies to try and keep myself safe, detached from the world around me
I don't care for anyone, who am I really trying to prove that too?
Miserable alone, that is how I choose to stay. I act around others so naturally it sickens me, yet still I’ll slink Into a lane or darkened doorway, run my hands over my face, weak, useless, tired but awake.
In need of weed to even try and seem cheerful, no, just to smoke something.
Breathing smoke to replace the rush of uncontrolled sighs.