I want to experience something new.
All my friends are out there discovering. They’re having their firsts. I experienced mine so long ago that the concept of experiencing something new and fresh and first is non existent. What is there left for me to explore? To conquer? To cry over? To laugh over? To listen to music in my bedroom over? To write over? The high of existing in a new space is so intense and livid that living without it for so long has been exhausting. I suppose I am experiencing something new. Something that my friends not might know or prioritize at this moment. I am finding myself.
I don’t think it’s the same equivalent; however, it exists in the same universe. Many I’m not as content with this landmark as I say I am- as I think I am. What’s so interesting about finding me? Me? I am just a vessel in which experience flows and ebbs and twists and strangles. I am no experience myself. A happening experience involves two or more people. The yearning for a lover does not exist without the absence of the lover themselves. I can’t occur to myself? I cannot yearn the lover inside of me if the lover is myself externally.
That seems contradictory. Moments alone reflect the person, alone. I can mourn myself in the same way that I can be proud of myself. I can love myself the way I can a lover. In fact, I should- that’s the whole point. But is it the experience I want? It is certainly the experience I NEED, but is it what my heart desires? MY heart desires? The first experience is what I’m looking for. What can I succumb to? Drugs? Maybe… cigarettes I’ve quit (sort of), zyns I’ve exhausted, alcohol is rare but not too enjoyable, injectables… no never, **** I too have grown tired of. Lovers? Maybe… boys I only think of sexually, therefore there is no full emotional tie and if there is, I certainly lack the ability to surrender myself to that expression due to my lack of inner-queer empathy, girls I enjoy but I am not entirely convinced they enjoy me- too feminine or not enough, I feel as if I need to prove something to them and truly I don’t have anything more to prove than I would normally have to prove in an attempt at partnership. I get too busy for lovers anyhow… I never respond virtually but physically I’m always available. If I can encounter them daily or on the street it would be marriage, but if I cannot, it is a separation. Work? School? I feel as if these options as well have been exhausted to their fullest potential (as of now). I start college in the fall and I plan to be as sharp and attentive as ever. I also plan to meet my second love there.
So what truly can I experience? What do I feel strongly about- and the answer is nothing. I do not particularly feel any sort of way towards anything. How can I have a first experience if I’m not even enticed to experience anything- I truly just want the first. I want something new. Something that will make me, destroy me, resent me, and make me again. Perhaps this is what life is meant to be- especially once you’ve seen it all. I know I haven’t seen it all- I know it. Then why isn’t anything coming to mind?
Perhaps I am over thinking this concept entirely. The idea of overthinking this subject in the first place does not thrill me. Does not compel me to chase it again. I am living a very sad life I believe. What have I become? How do I move forward? How do I become willing to experience- and to experience fully- not just grasp at the perception of experience- to experience entirely. Maybe I should seek inward. Find myself. Name the vessel that I speak so dismissively of. Name the vessel. I don’t have to fill my clay *** I just have to make it. I must sculpt and flow and ebb and twist and embrace- until I am able to be filled with something. I think experience has weakened me more than I thought. I think it’s broken my clay *** I think now I’m convinced that perhaps experiencing something for the first time isn’t as important as experiencing anything at all- it’s equally important- perhaps more so. Through repeated experience one is able to break and crumple and change and to make new.
23h ago
Jun 4, 2026 at 3:28 AM UTC
I want to experience something new.
All my friends are out there discovering. They’re having their firsts. I experienced mine so long ago that the concept of experiencing something new and fresh and first is non existent. What is there left for me to explore? To conquer? To cry over? To laugh over? To listen to music in my bedroom over? To write over? The high of existing in a new space is so intense and livid that living without it for so long has been exhausting. I suppose I am experiencing something new. Something that my friends not might know or prioritize at this moment. I am finding myself.
I don’t think it’s the same equivalent; however, it exists in the same universe. Many I’m not as content with this landmark as I say I am- as I think I am. What’s so interesting about finding me? Me? I am just a vessel in which experience flows and ebbs and twists and strangles. I am no experience myself. A happening experience involves two or more people. The yearning for a lover does not exist without the absence of the lover themselves. I can’t occur to myself? I cannot yearn the lover inside of me if the lover is myself externally.
That seems contradictory. Moments alone reflect the person, alone. I can mourn myself in the same way that I can be proud of myself. I can love myself the way I can a lover. In fact, I should- that’s the whole point. But is it the experience I want? It is certainly the experience I NEED, but is it what my heart desires? MY heart desires? The first experience is what I’m looking for. What can I succumb to? Drugs? Maybe… cigarettes I’ve quit (sort of), zyns I’ve exhausted, alcohol is rare but not too enjoyable, injectables… no never, **** I too have grown tired of. Lovers? Maybe… boys I only think of sexually, therefore there is no full emotional tie and if there is, I certainly lack the ability to surrender myself to that expression due to my lack of inner-queer empathy, girls I enjoy but I am not entirely convinced they enjoy me- too feminine or not enough, I feel as if I need to prove something to them and truly I don’t have anything more to prove than I would normally have to prove in an attempt at partnership. I get too busy for lovers anyhow… I never respond virtually but physically I’m always available. If I can encounter them daily or on the street it would be marriage, but if I cannot, it is a separation. Work? School? I feel as if these options as well have been exhausted to their fullest potential (as of now). I start college in the fall and I plan to be as sharp and attentive as ever. I also plan to meet my second love there.
So what truly can I experience? What do I feel strongly about- and the answer is nothing. I do not particularly feel any sort of way towards anything. How can I have a first experience if I’m not even enticed to experience anything- I truly just want the first. I want something new. Something that will make me, destroy me, resent me, and make me again. Perhaps this is what life is meant to be- especially once you’ve seen it all. I know I haven’t seen it all- I know it. Then why isn’t anything coming to mind?
Perhaps I am over thinking this concept entirely. The idea of overthinking this subject in the first place does not thrill me. Does not compel me to chase it again. I am living a very sad life I believe. What have I become? How do I move forward? How do I become willing to experience- and to experience fully- not just grasp at the perception of experience- to experience entirely. Maybe I should seek inward. Find myself. Name the vessel that I speak so dismissively of. Name the vessel. I don’t have to fill my clay *** I just have to make it. I must sculpt and flow and ebb and twist and embrace- until I am able to be filled with something. I think experience has weakened me more than I thought. I think it’s broken my clay *** I think now I’m convinced that perhaps experiencing something for the first time isn’t as important as experiencing anything at all- it’s equally important- perhaps more so. Through repeated experience one is able to break and crumple and change and to make new.
