It Echoes Here: Contemplating the Different and Lonely Occurance.

It echoes of  loneliness here.
Wrenching thoughts and skittish mental behavior accompany my foolish restlessness.  Inner strife dances from organ to organ, slowly, but quickly confusing my will. Lonesome I yearn for company.
Just a simple companion.
Even a sibling.
A whole year full of echoe
It get boring, feels wasted. And it really only effects me; I mean, I'm free to make plans.
I just fail to.
It's not a big deal really; it's just vacant here, y'see.
Too empty, too quiet.
Turn on the tele', or the phonograph, or the picture-box. Still with them around it all feels too large. Even this place. Ceilings too tall without enough canvas or paper to hang up. Walls become too open and lacking. To bare to captivate my span.
Blank
Does it matter? It shouldn't but sometimes having things to look at, or another here makes it all seem filled up. Maybe it just bothers me only, but solitude wastes time. Get a bit anxious for plans, and come to the realization that no one is around at 2 in the morn. Not to go and carouse around the town. No more cemetery runs at night. Alas these melted with the remaining and muddy winter.
It sure limits the summer a bit. My own mental image of entertainment rivals many others'.
Then again, why am I complaining? I have free time. I have work to do, some of it even enjoyable.
But still.
Still I long for a deep conversation, something to provide a background or foreground to my tasks. I never want to remain this solitary in droning time slots.
It all tugs at me.
Gently, but in annoyance, so it's softness is lost and replaced my stressful yanks.
Always asking, always inching me, keeping me awake from dreaming of something better.
Wherer are you going?
What are you doing?
Why are you so restless?
Instead of Contentment's embrace I shrivel in the cold of solitude. Glaring quietly, I wish to run forward, as if springed. Just to jump and act upon something.
Anything.
I shouldn't be this desperate, but after so long, this is my conclusion.
Since I was little.
School
Home
Camp
Church
Festivals

School
Home
Repeating dread, cycling locations.
Always half-way been the loner. Never really fit into the picture perfect group.
Sometimes I'd have one, y'know close pals, but those change.
Never solid, always evolving, I blame myself.
And why shoudln't I?
Don't I usually cause the strife or discomfort?
Yeah, sure I'm a crucial limb or needed apparatus.
Fat Chance.
None, or very few of them in the collective groups seem to wish me welcome or desire my presence.
Hah.
Let alone understand me.
I'm... just... so. Different.
Different.
It's not wrong, it's just... different.
Cept it doesn't connect with those who aren't.
or are.
To the different, I guess.
Where do you end off when you are so multi-faceted and strange, people don't know what to make of you?
Damn lonely.
I could complain to no end.
wow, I am productive.
Still gotta vent though.
Just wish the "normal" would appreciate something I did for more than a minute.
Something, anything.
I haven't the slightest why I care about their opinion. I mean if they are so different, and I know none of us really "have it all together", why should I care what they think? Maybe it's because the world, society, adults, teachers, anyone in authority looks to them first. the ones they have common interests with.
All those stupid, stupid sports.
Life is such a game, and I'm tired of playing.
I made my own rules, and played by them, and it didn't work.
Not to win the world.
Why the hell am I playing with that as the goal?
To the mirror I proclaim, you infidel!
Grow up and let go of wordly desires.
Stop being a toddler in your faith.
You've got plans, you got talents,
He wants You.
You.
I just can't be satisfied with being good enough for the Creator of the universe, can I?
I'm such a loser.
But, hey, let's blame it on the genes. The Carpenter always struggles with this right? I only barely slip by having obtained my mother's charisma, thinking skills, and optimism.
What a champ.
And the roots of my abilities to survive constantly strangle those closest geographically to me.
Build a new house,
a clean house,
and a stable house.
But just the same;
This house is empty.
This home echoes the same as the old.