These Sunny Nights

I guess happiness is just unreachable. That self-awareness that we seek is just as fake as my friendships. No doubt about it, people are nice when they need something and quickly ditch the act as soon as they get it. They for get where they came from. I'm not sure if this is because these very same people are competing with me for attention, or superiority. You know, I really don't really have any ambitions of being superior. Isn't it the struggle that is more fun than the accomplishment. And even when you get there, it's nerve-racking to keep it because you always know that there is someone else who is striving for the same thing. I just want to be the quiet one in the back plotting their demise. I just want to taste advantage. All of this normality is sickening. I know you might say I could be worse off, but I'm sure as the morning will come that I could be in better standing. I don't really care where I stand with my friends, or rather the people who care about me. I just sometimes wish I was friends with a less intellectual crowd. I feel so inferior. I know I am. It sickens me to admit it, but I'm not as intelligent as them. If only they could come out of the woodwork and tell me it doesn't matter to them, that they like me the way I am and that they wouldn't trade me for the world. It's because I feel that way about them. They deserve to know that. Although I try to inform them on every occasion, I fear that it doesn't get through for some reason or another. They should know that I envy their ease of thought and their seemingly mundane lives. If I can't manage to find a certain someone to share this with, I think I should share this with one who I know cares. It's not like I could walk down the hall and tell my family. That implied love is deceiving. I know they care, but you wouldn't tell you mother that you are so deep in the hole that it make you nauseous every day you wake up knowing that you must endure the inevitable condemnation. I just makes me sad. Sad as the sea.