What Would Jesus Think?

I've been hurting, strangled up in possibilities and buzzwords. Some time ago, I recognized that I am the pilot of my happiness, and as result, I'm usually in a good mood and happy and enthusiastic. Still, internal monologue is suffocating that logic and sense of direction. I'm not really sure what will make me happy anymore, and there isn't busy-ness to fill the void and stop the incessant chatter. During the day I'm sane. I'm logical. I know what can and cannot be, and it doesn't hurt. Then I get home, get sleepy, think these half-twisted thoughts about what could and should, reflect negatively on my history of interpersonal relationships.

I'm gonna have some really fucked up relationships. Half by example. Half by personal failings.

I've given up on learning game design. My instructor jumped ship and the internet at my house makes watching instructional videos impossible. Neglecting game design negates the need to learn Java. Wikipedia has no appeal, except in those sparse and beautiful moods. Poetry is simply exotic diction, and I'm hesitant to jump into another book.

As of now, I've gotten to the point where I reach out to two people. I want to blame it on my history, my IQ, my "family issues," when I'm probably just a jerk. I have no desire to talk to anyone else, and I don't know how to get past the trite facades of most teenagers. Even with these two friends, I resent one and am too easily irritated by the other. The latter is purely my own fault, but I neglect to express that she is appreciated beyond any other. I feel guilty, but that's still not taking action to remedy the situation.