To me, at this point, girls present an interesting unexplored opportunity that I have not seen with boys. This could stem from my lack of social interaction outside of school, resulting in me not understanding or knowledgeable about exactly what boys do when they hang out on a regular basis. It’s not that I’m unwilling to, but if one does not surround oneself with those who do such things together then one could not expect to easily force one to be part of such a group. But nevertheless girls are different from boys, and my lack of knowledge presents an opportunity to learn and to open up to those I’m not biased against doing so.

I may make generalizations about females but I attempt to be positive in light of my ignorance, though certainly I may have misconceptions or distortions from being a boy. Much of what I will say is from what I’ve seen and is based on those around me, and I certainly realize that there are just as many “bad” girls as there are “bad” boys, but seeing as I don’t associate myself with the males that probably would not seek to befriend me, as I do not desire to adopt their culture, I don’t see myself drifting toward that direction, and thus I will only discuss what I am familiar with.

As epitomized in countless novels and certainly in past culture, girls, at least the semi-shy ones, are innocent. Not innocent in terms of actions, but innocent in terms of outward perception. The central problem for me is that I certainly do not know enough girls to even begin to say what they may actually be on the inside, nor want to seem like I understand their condition. Innocence, as I have put it, is the outward lack of the rugged I-have-seen-it-all attitude. Often I admire this, though I am aware that many adolescents have gone through their philosophical, rebellious phase, and just aren’t showing their experiences. Perhaps, as I go through this, it is not innocence that I see, it is compassion - a general kindness toward others that is so often missing from society, yet despite these conditions, they continue.

Cute, cute to me is an eternal happiness, like I once had. Cute is when I want to snuggle up and hug it, letting my concerns, my worries, drift away, absorbed in the compassion of a hug, feeling, however brief, protection from what will come. Cute is reassuring, that there is kindness in a brutal world, that there will be something - someone - there to depend on, and to look forward to.

I love how, though it may not be clear, girls are motivated to not just leave without saying goodbye, to put in the little personal touch, to put in the effort to make what would be a relationship between two gears a relationship between two humans.

I often feel this pressure from the higher-achieving boys to do well grade-wise, or from promiscuous boys to do well sex-wise, or from the lazy intellectual boys to do well efficiency-wise, effectively doing more with less. Though many are studious - though possibly procrastinators - and over-achieving, I don’t see the motivation to do more than just be the best, I don’t see passion to do what may never matter, just because they love to. The emptiness is disconcerting, yet reassuring that though I may be alone in my struggles; I am not going against the grain to my own demise.

At this point in my life, in the volatility and confusion of adolescence, I’m searching, probably in vain, for someone or something that fills my desire for what has been a major source of despair in my life - a lack of emotional support. Programming and video games provide joy, not someone to talk to when I’m tired, tired of working so hard for no one to care. I really don’t need people to tell me that I’m smart or intelligent, because too many people it almost excludes them from being smart, no matter how smart they are. I really want someone who cares about more than just academics and various other accomplishments, it has come to a point where I feel like I’m bottling everything up, that I don’t have to be depressed because someone will care one day. In a way it’s the curse of awareness - knowing that a person matters enough not to sleep forever, but not enough to make everyone pay attention to everyone else. So often I’m left watching more than I am participating, like a little puppy on a hill, watching over the kids playing near the cliff in the field of rye.

If anything, I feel, from just watching out of jealousy or out of despair that girls would do better to fill such a void than boys simply due to the social inhibitions I would have to climb to find a boy that cares. As far as I know, most boys wouldn’t want me to cry in their arms, but I have nothing to cry about, because there is so little happening. It’s all about pushing ahead, day by day, toward some arbitrarily set goal determined a year before; done almost for the sake of restraining those tyrannical teenagers. I push on, programming for fun, writing for fun, reading for fun, doing assigned work; motivated - obsessed - but without distraction, only encouragement and artificial despair - my lack of social life leads to little outside of academics and programming to talk about, yet I’d much rather have conversations about future plans or recent personal events than dry, oft-repeated ramblings about school teachers and schoolwork.

Reading around the internet I feel bad that so many teenage boys with uncontrollable libidos would resort to pornography as a means of fulfilling their desire for sexual stimulation - I don’t think that they all started out with bad intentions, and they are probably genuinely kind, and I feel that the (stereo)typical male mindset of sexualizing and desensitizing every emotion hurts themselves more than it hurts the females - not everything is a competition and certainly women are not created for sex.

I don’t have a best friend, and I’d struggle to list friends in the first place. That’s why I write so much now, since I don’t have anyone to confide to, I’ll just speak to everyone, and this way I feel like someone is listening, and my efforts are not for naught. You may not be ready for what I may be saying about the future or the present, but it’s definitely better that I speak aloud instead of keeping it in for personal gain. I hope that someone somewhere cares, and that maybe one day I’ll find that someone.