I'm at that stage in life where people have a past to their lives now... and that's... quite a lot to think about, if you ask me...
I guess I'm still not used to the idea that other people have actually been through so much before?
Sorry, when I refer to "people" here I mean mostly new or rather-new acquaintances.
Not people/friends whom I've known since, idk, dating back to secondary school days at the earliest?
Hmm, I guess it's sorta got to do with my ridiculous obsession with knowing EVERYTHING about a person? It's just in my nature to find out every last detail?
I remember being the most cunning and secretive stalker way back then... ha ha ha.
I remember finding out a lot of stuff which I'd been better off not knowing about.
I remember kicking myself in the foot and feeling fucking awful and questioning myself every time, "Why do you keep doing this to yourself Josh"
But the truth is I couldn't stop, and I still can't. That feeling of curiosity is really just too strong.
I guess I'm a living, breathing metaphor for the phrase "curiosity killed the cat" eh?
But yeah, anyways, coming back to it.
I'm 21 now, and meeting new people has been, for quite some time now, quite an experience?
I don't know how to put this.
It's like, compared to secondary school days, I guess one could say in a uniformed school it's sort of a more controlled environment? Everything can be easily monitored? Everyone was a blank page, mostly. Hmm, blank page. I like that. Very apt description.
Yeah, back then it was so easy to know what everyone was up to, basically.
Who was dating who, who were the ones screwing around (literally), etc.
It's almost as if I were an observer... never taking part in any of these activities. Only observing as people got about with their lives...
Sigh, it's been quite a stretch of time since secondary school days Josh.
People are not as easy to monitor now.
You can't stalk them anymore and find out almost every detail about their life.
People are no longer blank pages - they've been filled, and some with significantly more colour than others.
Why do I still feel like a blank page then?
Why do I feel like I'm the only person without a past?
Why have I still not outgrown the curiosity to know every last detail about people I'm close with right now?
Sigh kill me please.

I realise it now... it all ties in back with my escape/retreat into music/films/the arts.
All this... "colour" that people have so-called "stained" their pages with? I didn't want any of that.
I didn't like the way it looked. Their colours were much too... stale... for my liking. I thought music and films were a much more... vibrant way to fill my pages. And I still do now.
It's all so clear now. My pages aren't empty, they're just... different. My colours are just... a lot harder to appreciate, a lot harder to see... but there's the beauty in it. Other people's pages are tainted, I feel. But mine are precious. Almost too precious actually.
And now that I'm a (significant) part in other people's pages - it's like having to get used to their... colours. Yeah.
I guess it also follows that I have (always have had actually) an obsession with new items/things. Particularly notebooks. Or scrapbooks. Clean, blank pages on which I can paint a brand new canvas on.
Maybe it's an OCD thing? I don't like using/writing/drawing on used scrapbooks/notebooks.
I'd much rather start afresh on a brand new book - so I can fashion things the way I fancy them - and not have to... conform... to the ways (pages) of the used one.
Sighhh.
I don't know what to think/do/say right now.
I feel so fucking helpless please save me I want to cry and die right now