Deception

Why does hiding my life from my parents come so easily now?

I am disgustingly cold toward them, appreciate nothing they give me, hold them at arm's distance constantly, and do not reciprocate their love.

Why?

Has it just become habit after years of simply not telling them what I actually do?

Do I fear that opening myself up to anybody will hurt both of us?
Do I judge them because I see too much of myself in them?

Do I simply think they don't understand me and never will?
Do I hate them because I don't know who better to hate?
Do I hate them?

Do I set my expectations of them too high?
Do I blame them for my own faults?

Am I incapable of empathy?

Am I incapable of love?

Day in the Life of a Leech

So about right now I should be studying for my Advanced Placement Biology exam tomorrow morning. Yeah. I'm not, obviously. Why not? Because I'm fucking awesome, that's why.

So anyways, a succinct introduction to myself and this blog. I'm a freshman in high school, a cross-country/track runner, a violinist, and a pirate. I'm the typical angst-ridden egotistical suburban teen who can't find himself in a world where he's been given pretty much fucking everything.

This blog exists for few reasons.
1) I want to be able to threaten people with, "I'm going to blog about this!"
2) Right now I believe that someone is actually going to read this blog.
3) Right now I believe that someone might actually care about this blog.
4) I need something to do besides cramming, thank you very much.

With that said, welcome. You're not in for much.