I'm reminded of childhood experiences.
I seemed to have had such a good childhood, but whenever I think about the 
past I only seem to pull up embarrassing and frustrating memories.

Even when I was a child I acted different.

I have watched video footage of me. I usually stared. A stoic baby.
I would observe my environment intently. You can see it in my eyes as I look
around.

My mom and her friend would dance around in a park dressed like nymphs or 
something (my mother is extremely creative) while holding my hand. I would just
walk in circles occassionally trying to see what the object was in a certain 
person's hands (the camera). 

There are countless stories of my stoicism. This is why I am so confused as to 
what is wrong with me. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with PTSD, but I
recall only the bad moments in my life. 
I've always acted like me now, for as long as I can remember.

Images in my head.
When I was young I saw some crappy, goof-horror movie. It had bunches of
spiders crawling all over the place.
There is one scene where a girl is in the shower and you see a spider slip down
her chest - to her belly-button - then it drops to her feet and crawls down the
drain.
You never actually see any of the female's "private places", but, thinking about it the next day caused me to shake in some sort of scared-heartbroken-prudish paroxysm during school. It was so noticable that my teacher asked what was wrong. I felt sort of sick in my tummy, but told the class that it was just some gross part in a movie I watched.
One of the kids queried further into the movie and what part, at which point I 
named off some scene that could pass as being disgusting enough for a full-body shake in the middle of school. The kid confidently explained how he watched that part and wasn't bothered at
all.
Well, technically I wasn't either, Kid. (I never got to say that)

I've always had this vendetta against girls.
Girly girls.
I couldn't stand the conniving behavior. I saw right through them all.
I have always been able to see who people really are. It's a natural gift I guess.
I can tell any person's intentions if I just sit, observe, and think about it for a 
moment. I suppose it's not that rare of a gift, but it seems handy enough.

 It's the giggling. I always wanted to beat the shit out of girls who did that
dumbass giggle (note: I've never, ever, beaten the shit out of anyone). I just couldn't understand it. Why? It wasn't attractive. It
didn't seem like the other girls particularly enjoyed eachother's giggles.
It just made me mad.
Because it represented stupidity in my mind.
I always despised stupidity. Which is different from ignorance.
Ignorance is not knowing. Stupidity is not caring. 

It still sets me off sometimes, I suppose. In a way it seems like PTSD. But,
where did it originally start? My strange behavior?
I think there is a chemical imbalance in my brain.
My mother has one, and so it would seem to be some sort of mix, I guess,
of chemical imbalances and some sort of self-induced PTSD?... whatever.

I've always been a prude. But why? I can't figure it out.
I'm not so prudish anymore, but I have my moments.
I mean, I enjoy a good blow-job as much as the next fella,
but I'm picky.
and not just about the blowjob.
The atmosphere, the clothes, the makeup, the positions.

To me, it's art. Everything must be done for a purpose that is beautiful.

Blowjobs to fight child labor?... perhaps.

You know... I didn't get a blowjob for the first time until I was 18 or 19 years old.
That's interesting, you see, because that seems a very late age to obtain one (at
least it is among my group of amiables).
What's so interesting about it?
I'm good-looking.
In fact, I'm very good looking. and I know this.
I have my moments where I feel completely opposite, but I am merely thinking
of the compliments I've recieved, and thinking of the girls/ladies who've hit on
me. I'm being realistic right now (which is strange).
I have a sculpted, soft, beautifully charming face.
Hell, if my teeth were perfect, I could be an angel (they're alright, but certainly not perfect). 

I've always found stupidity to be a turnoff.
I just absolutely, cannot find you attractive if you aren't an intellectual by heart.

It doesn't matter if you look like Scarlett Johanson. I just feel betrayed and
taken for granted when I'm around dumbos.

 
And now that I think more about it. I think I'm probably one of the coolest guys
alive. I'm charming, funny, and not a total "dweeb". Yes, I really am a badass.

But enough tooting my own horn.

Why the fuck am I this way? Why do I feel emotions only at extremes 75% 
of the time?

Why am I so creative?
 I write stories, poems, music, informational essays, and blogs.
 I play geetar. I see everything in either cinematography or photography.
 I have ideas for movies, and I know how to write good dialogue.
 I am an actor (and one of the best in the world, that's said as modestly as
honesty will allow).
 and I used to be a pretty good artist. I haven't drawn in years though.
It's partially because I've always had shaky hands (which I recently found out is
genetic) and so, as I got better, the finer details were still hard to draw.

It reminds me of a time when I was probably 3 or 4 years old.

I had this child-sized easel that my parents got me.
They'd put up a giant piece of paper against the easel, and I'd grab
supplies and go at it.
Well, one day I decided to paint Mario (from Mario Bros.), so I grabbed my
paintbrushes and paints and went to it.
When I finished, it was beautiful (in my opinion, I still remember it vaguely, and
it wasn't a rembrandt, but it was very good for a 3-4 year old, very).
I ran inside to show my mom because it had turned out so well.
When we finally got back outside, where the easel was, there was my Mario
picture,
Running and dripping slowly down the page.
I hadn't realized the paint would run, but it ruined the picture.
And so, no older than 4 years old, I swore I would never paint again.
And I didn't.
Until I was in high school in some art class.
But they were watercolors, so that might not have even counted. :)

I don't know... this is getting long and incoherent...
10 strange points if you actually read to this point.

My insomnia is retarded.

Love,
~Beau