Love, actually

It seems to me that every word I’ve written here so far is aimed to farce the daily happenings that occur within my life. I suppose it probably is, I’m so good at making fun of things, I happen to take even the most basic of thoughts out of proportion and encase into a new and shiny nature. Sort of what M&Ms do when it’s Christmas.

I believe that’s how life should be anyway. You bitch, you brood, you mope, but in the end all you do is just make a joke about it and go on. In my case, you make a few witty remarks as well. That’s how Youth in Decline begins. I’m an 18 year old that feels just too fucking old for my age. It’s fine by me though, I never wanted to be any younger; any younger in my case would just add a whole new level of idiocy to my already openly impressionable life.


The way i saw it, through the eyes of my teen self, was that the older I grew, the less retarded and flatly self-dimentional I became. Looking back with my 18 year old peripheral vision, I’m able to see all the faults and screw ups I had as a kid. I still think I’m suffering from some form of mental retardation now, but a lot less of it than say, when I was a wee 15 year old.

I’m still going to open up the gates of my past the same way in the future. One day, the 25 year old me would have an open reverie on how certain actions I did or didn’t do contribute ultimately in my stupid mindset as an 18 year old. I’d look at the very first post in my blog for that. Despite the current feedback I’ve recieved, I don’t think anybody has every decrypted the initial meaning of my meaningless jabber when the residual hermit spoke. I’m not too sure on that one actually; I’d like to believe I’ve recieved an enormous fanbase, but I guess most the intellectuals on my MSN can keep it to themselves.See, my first post was a monumental self confession: an apology to the girl i love because I was an idiot with a brain span the size of a wheet-bix grain

Because, as an amazing stroke of luck, incredulous and all. I’ve found someone perfect. Words don’t describe her, and for all of 2007 she’s held responsible as a primary catalyst to finding a person within that jumble of words that is Peter Chi. She’s changed my entire outlook on life itself. I’ve made many misconceptions, many mislead facts about life and about people – just pure stupidity and a heightened ego when I look back. She’s changed all that.

There’s so much more to it than just what plainly seems like an 18 year old who is very, very whipped. But put it this way, under this asshole clown suit that people see but don’t see further beyond that, there’s a completely different entity. It’s a strange feeling when you wake up in the morning with a phone call, and you know that someone knows exactly how you’re feeling or wanting to know how well you’ve slept. Then there’s the comfortability. The accredited knowledge that when she’s around, you’re 100% Peter Chi. No fucking around, no need to play games and no fancy ploys. Just pure, unaldulterated me.

Sure one day I might open up my past, have a distant but nostalgic feeling of what it was like to be 18 again. The moments of triumphs, the excessively delusional self-confidence. You, the reader, you will see it again. You’re not going to see Peter Chi without his often blunt veracity, and his excessive need to reassert himself. You will have to because I won't let myself show that side of me. I won’t show you what i fear most. I’ll make you laugh, but I’ll never be entirely comfortable.

But that’s okay. You get to see what you need to. I’ve got someone to show those things too close to bear to. So if you the reader, happen to be Cathy, you know what to do.Give me a smile, because that's all i want.Being apart from you has made me realise how truly dependent i am with you. A public confession. Everybody else, what didn't you know?

Maybe we’ll be reading this together when we’re both 25. I have optimism, I can dream. But in typical fashion, i'm going to end it quoting a piece of western culture.
You're my wonderwall Cathy.