My brain hurts

Nothing is lucid anymore,

I feel like I'm stuck in a dream-like state.

Everything is surreal,

as if I'm watching over my life.

I don't feel alive.

What's the point of living if you can't live?

They say all that matters is now,

not the past;

not the present.

But what if its all bleeding together,

blending into one intricate mess of my life?

Days are passing faster;

I can't tell one from another,

I just go through the motions.

I've shut everyone out of my life.

I've been stepped on for too long,

and I'm tired of treating people

how I would want to be treated.

Now I treat them how they treat me.

And it sucks because I'm alienating everyone,

and realizing maybe they shouldn't

have been in my life in the first place.

At the first red flag I drop them,

I am giving no more second chances.

But I'm lonely.

And I'm scared.

Everyone is forcing their opinions on me and telling me that they aren't. They all make enemies with the ones whose opinions differ from their own.  

Hell is scratching at my back.

Ultimately, this is my choice. You all fail to realize this. You say it is completely up to me but then try to mold my mindset to your ideas. I will not lie down and have you all fight with each other and me about what is going to happen. Its my decision to make, not yours. 

Furthermore; I will not have you plead with me, beg me, or threaten me if your plans aren't similar to mine. I've had enough. I was looking for support amongst family and friends and all I found was chaos. You all have completely disappointed me, and worse, broken my heart.

This is MY life.

I can't believe you. Its hard enough to make this decision on my own, but to have everyone talking in my ear at once makes this ten times more difficult. If you aren't supportive of whatever decision I choose, then you aren't allowed to talk to me about the subject. If you are, but have differing opinions, don't TELL me about them unless I ask. I don't need everyone's two cents.

Enough is enough.

It's breaking my heart to make this decision.

I can't live knowing I've caused the death of someone else. The toll of the regret will take all I have left of me. It will disappoint my family, and I don't think I can handle the shit they will give me. I know they will never look at me the same.

I can't give my life up to this alien; I won't be able to care for something I never wanted. I quite frankly see it more as a burden than a blessing. Its a mistake, a simple slip up that's going to cost me more than my mind.

My life has been flipped over and crushed, making my plans for the future seem implausible. I have to change everything, and I'm very comfortable with my life right now. 

All of the options I have seem so far out of reach. I mull them over in my head again and again, weighing the pros and cons, all of the possibilities and what-ifs. I'm turning this situation inside out to try and find a solution, but there are so many factors I have to take into consideration. Its so much more complicated than a yes or no answer.

I still have no clue what I am going to do, and my hesitation  is leading to huge assumptions by all the witnesses. Waiting is turning this nightmare into a demon. I can no longer afford to spend any more time thinking this through, but I haven't completely gotten my answer yet. 

Come Wednesday, I will hopefully have made my decision, and I will hopefully not have lost my mind over it.

BOYCOTT EA

Listen to me people: do not buy any EA products! Especially The Sims 3!

These games are filled with bugs, glitches, and errors that prevent you from playing them. I've contacted EA about this for about 2 years now, without a single word back from them. Tell everyone you know not to buy any of EA's products.

I plan on ruining this gaming company, and I need your help.

the meaning of life

I now know what the meaning of life is:

It's love.

Love is a frequency that allows us to fully expand;
the emotion changes our DNA itself.

Look out in the world, what do you see?
War, hate, discrimination; murder, famine, depression....

This keeps us in low vibrational frequencies, or the frequency of fear.

The frequency of love is higher and faster, more wild and energetic.

Wake the fuck up and start loving people again...

Illusions

We are not here.
You are not reading this.

Its all an illusion.

I have no idea how to act,
how to think,
what to believe....
My mind is blown,
my world is upside down,
everything tangible
has become an idea.

Now what?
Now that I know this,
what happens next?

What we think we know is a lie (prt 2: illusions)

This illusion of our individual bodies
along with the misinformation
of our true origins
has manifested the idea
that we all think independently from another.

"Parroted Thinking".
Sound familiar?
This is ancient knowledge,
which our ancient relatives
understand much better than us.

There is a common
spiritual bond
between all things in the universe,
and we are all part of
one divine intelligence.
No phenomena,
or paranormal occurrences
are unexplainable.

The blank matter within
the most basic blocks of
perceivable existence
is malleable and molded
by intent...

Consciousness shapes our reality.

We are taught from an early age
how to think rationally and tangibly,
and to not explore ideas or notions.

Take what knowledge I have tried to share
and pass it on:

Ancient Knowledge.

Part 1

What we think we know is all a lie

I am so completely mind-fucked right now.
I'm starting to doubt everything,
this whole world is an illusion....

I can't explain it as well,
I can only give you
what I got from the knowledge
that was given to me.

Its simple to me but so complex simultaneously.
Everything you know is a lie:

We are not matter.
To think the world is made up of matter
is a selfish and narcissistic notion.
What actually creates the universe
is consciousness.

We were taught the perception
that we all think independently,
which is not at all true.
I think I finally understand
what the transcendentalists were talking about.
"Parroted thinking" is not only an idea,
or an opinion, but a fact.
The bible is another great example:
Don't take to heart all the fairytales
that course through the holy, biblical pages,
the bible is filled with symbols
and hidden meanings.
It is not only a fairytale,
but a way of life;
It is our guide to the universe.

"The Holy Word",
for instance, is not God's word.
We are held together by frequencies,
which create our pulse and fuel our mind.
THAT is the holy word,
the frequencies which are the fabric
of all consciousness in the universe.
Or "matter", as you'd call it.

Think about it;
what is the world made of?
Atoms?
Correct.
But when they went to explore the atom
in hopes of deciphering the meaning of life,
do you know what they found?
The atom is made up of nothing
but empty space.
So how can an empty atom
create the solid world around us?
Think about it.

The concept of substance arose
from the philosopher Aristotle.

Space and time have already
been proven to be illusions of perception,
so how can something
that occupies space be a true
perception of reality? (human bodies)

Our true consciousness does not exist
in our minds or our bodies.

M

the boy with the thorn in his side

I've had reoccurring nightmares like yours,
only more lucid; only more real.
They follow me into my waking life,
haunting my hours before I even close my eyes.
You wrote a novella,
and stripped your mind naked
for the world to see,
to devour,
to fight viciously in a pathetic effort
to figure you out.
And they never will.

I find it hilarious.

I've told my one or two readers many times
of my dreams,
spelled out in metaphors and symbols,
heavily cryptic.
I've opened my mind and poured my thoughts,
memories, hopes, wishes, dreams..
and nightmares...
onto this blog.

What do I get?

Clarity I suppose.
Was that your reasoning for writing about The Boy?
To sort out the memories of such nightmares
in your mind, and to try and figure your own self out?

Aha, I hope you've found some distinction between
your illusions and your insanity.
I think you're mixing the two,
and suddenly your reality has become so surreal,
it's almost as if you're living in a dream.

Oh, but you are.

happy Father's Day papa cat

Dad.

I know you love me,
you know I love you.
We both know you're an absent role in my life,
hiding somewhere in the depths of hell
and poking your head up every few months
to check in on your one and only daughter.
I'd like to change that,
and I know you do too.

You're the biggest narcissistic,
self-loathing, sarcastic asshole known to man.
You're a walking contradiction
and I am your mirrored counterpart.
I am truly your daughter,
with our twisted sense of humor,
quick wit and sarcastic replies.
You keep me on my toes and
I keep your soles on the ground
(when we're together, that is)..

I love you papa cat,
and I hope you find peace soon.

Much love,

- Kitten

the evil popper

if there is anything I hate
more than everything in the world,
it would be the evil popper.
the popper is this gargantuan metal contraption
that spews out heroin-laced popcorn (not literally)
and laughs at me as I try to clean it.
it gargles out oil and salt
and spits its nasty black gunk
that seems to get stuck EVERYWHERE
on this giant beast.
it boils your face when you stand over it,
to bag the popcorn
or put more seeds in its mouth.

the funny thing is that I (and me alone)
have to clean this metal beast
whenever I'm working concession.
why, you ask?
well because I'm a newbie,
and they want me to be able
to clear the metal teeth of
the black gunk and salty kernels
without requiring help from fellow employees.
bullshit.
they want me to be swallowed whole
by the evil popper,
and spit out all puffed up and salty
just like the popcorn and the rest of my co-workers.

fuck the evil popper.
I would rather lick peanut butter
off of a hobo's infected toe
than clean the evil metal beast.

Mr. Wentz = envy

I hate how well you write.
Your lyrics are music and my words
in comparison are a 5 year olds,
trying to seem smart.

I go back over my old work
and then I read your thoughts
and suddenly I'm looking up at fireworks,
waiting for my spark.
I'd love to meet you.
Not just to say that I've met you.
I want to claw my way into your mind
to see if it's anything like mine;
a maze of thoughts..
Do we both think in rhymes?

The only thing I've ever written that's good
I sold to my blog and tumblr and the devil himself...
I'm sure its out there somewhere
as someone else's work.

I try to imitate you because you're what
initially inspired me to be whatever the hell this is..
but.... "Writers keep writing what they write"..
Right?

I am nothing but mediocre,
you make me make myself sick.

I hope you're happy,
living the life I want to live...
and you're so damn miserable.
I would give anything to be in your
oh so stylish shoes,
and you'd give anything
to be a goddamn normal human being.

Look at the way you think!
You're not normal!
I'm not normal!
We're not normal!

Fuck.

this is summer

we're racing the sun,
driving towards the light
that spills down from in between trees,
houses, and fences.
she hides behind the clouds,
her rays dripping from the holes
of blue in the gray masses.

the streets are lined in sunlight,

as the clouds move with the wind,

the light on the street moves too,

running away from us.

we're racing the sun.

perfect weather;
not too sunny, not too windy;
not too hot, not too cold.
this is the beginning;
this is summer.

kids are out on the street,
and its everything
of an ideal neighborhood.
children racing bikes,
some with the training wheels still attached.
women walk dogs and push strollers,
a couple walks down the block with a toddler.
a boy is playing ball with his father
in the front yard of their house,
two teenage girls walk the sidewalks
gossiping about they're latest crushes,
while their male counterparts gossip
about the latest video game releases.

this is summer.
and for my age,
the next three months is forever.
an infinity all rolled into 1/4 of a year.

this is summer

and I am ready.

consider this

I can't be your savior now,
for failing you I hate myself.
The only thing I have to offer
is an empty hand.
I blame myself for breaking down
and letting my mind fill with doubt.
There is no such thing as
misery in wonderland.

Consider this:
Lost religion is piling on top of hope.
We all see it tipping over
but living a lie is easier than to cope.
Right?
What if we are not we?
My reflection has made mistakes
that I have not.
She sees me and I say "we are we"
but she shows me her life
and it is not mine.
Denial is most prevalent when
smiling in the mirror.

I am superglued together,
bursting at my seams.
I keep sewing the holes
but still my insides leak.
And if love is a war
we are all veterans.
We are broken and sore,
but love is our medicine..
How?
How can that be?

There is no such thing
as misery in wonderland.

Are we, we?

It seems mortality is an option we have now;
tossed between hands, held behind a back.
Two fists with two alternative endings.
Luck of the draw, you call heads
in hopes of seeing Licolns face.
In one hand you have life;
disease, poverty, wars, crime.
A grim chance of survival
past your expiration date.
In the other hand you have nothing;
a free world of possibilities to explore
and wander, a whole life of luck
and love, success and fuffilled dreams.
Good luck picking the right hand, child.

This is your world, your dimension, your story.
You rule it, live it, tell it
under muttered breath as the stars watch you.
This is our option, a choice we have.
We always end up picking the wrong one,
no matter who you are.
Naive children, infants, starry eyed
and overwhelmed. We always pick the wrong hand.

I broke free of my shell and emerged into your world,

thrown into your rampant chaos without warning or advice.

Two fits were held before me, and, trying to control

my movements and figure out how this world works,

my tiny little finger chose a hand.

Which one is it? Mortality or regular, human life?

I don't know. I'm too young perhaps,

or perhaps I am overlooking a major component

of this fate game.

I think too much.

we are we

your blood is mine;
stale and cool.
it courses through our broken veins,
rupturing one after another.
my heart is yours;
beating in your crimson hands,
leaking love out of its arteries.
we are one,
but one who sees and thinks
in a different spectrum.
our breathing is uneven,
but our chests match
as they rise in fall.
a silent sigh in unison,
followed by a gulp of contaminated air.
we are we,
and i cannot specify that enough.
to think oneself is better than their minds,
ignoring all the warning signs.
red flags pop up in my peripheral vision,
blurred out by conscious.
she wages wars on my gut,
and my heart is a silent plea.

alternative versions of me,
as far as the eye can see,
place their hands on the mirror,
and we are we.

i argue with myself,
borderline personality,
always on the verge
of crossing the line
and splitting my mind
from need and want.

these dimensions are like the sea,
as one world crashes another rises up
in the momentum. i see my world
falling apart,
decaying slowly,
slipping through my wrinkled fingers.

a dream of the future,
or a dream of the past?

you have me twisted around your finger,
spinning me on a thin wire
that always threatens to break,
but never does.
I'm so close to freedom,
I can taste the sun on my back.
But you always pull me back in,
like a fish caught on a hook.

I hate the idea that
I will always love your flavor,
just a taste and I'm back in your arms.
Resisting only makes you furious.
I'm starting to get pissed at your anger.
What right do you have?
I am no slave.
I offer no solace in bed sheets
and darling you're only thinning
the line you have me on
with every request.

You think you're funny and you're not.
You think you're teasing but its painful.
You say you're smart
and yet you can't understand
a simple sentence.
A single word.
"No."

Somebody oh somebody
find me scissors; I need to cut the rope
before he strangles me.

Traveling

I can envision myself doing this.

You all may hate car rides,

but I don't mind it one bit.

It's the only time I can go

to a world completely of my own.

I don't have to talk to people,

because I can just put my earbuds in

and watch as we pass by a million

other worlds in less than an hour.

It's the one time I can listen to music,

uninterrupted,

for long periods of time,

and be in a thousand different places

all at once.

Music is a transportation

device in my head,

and traveling is its helping aid.

It's almost like sitting on the computer,

listening to music, chatting with people

on omegle,

and surfing weheartit. Or tumblr.

But this is so much better.

I can see myself traveling,

ignoring people,

and coming back to life

when we reach our

unknown destination.

I can enliven those with music,

and go back

to my own hermit crab world,

without much trouble.

I realized a passion for solidarity

though I knew I had before,

but, I didn't realize was as strong.

Now I watch the mountains pass

and imagine myself singing

the words blaring in my ears,

waiting patiently,

oh so patiently,

for my arrival home.

Bittersweet.

This trip

The air tastes salty
and the sweat tastes sweet.
We're a mass of tangled arms
and legs,
rolling in the salt marsh,
getting filthy. Mud
on our hands and feet,
sand in our shoes,
shells in our hands,
the seawater burning
our scrapes and cuts.
We are a different version
of infinite,
one that ends
just like it never was
to begin with.
We have wings in our dreams
and we fly over the sand dunes,
laughing at our bodies
fighting the waves,
two in a canoe.
Our stories will be written
on our legs by the
stickers in the forest,
the scars they leave
tell something longer lasting
than words can ever try.
We will grow and scatter
and always remember
the versions of truth
we created in a weeks time,
rather than a lifetime.
Too obviously comfortable
to be torn apart so fast.
Annoyed and past our limits.
But that's always the best
kind of story.
One that never ends.

I hear tiny balls of rumors
dispersed like seeds, that find
eager, attentive minds
and grow into a tree of "fact".
I see whispers tossed back and forth
behind a closed door,
the very breath they were created in
spreading the disease from
one to another.
a mindset in this instance is caught
like the disease,
instead of made in the name of
a creative thought that is the backbone
of your perspective.
your parroted thinking isn't thought
through but blindly followed,
and I am a fish caught
swimming against the stream
of narrowed eyes in my direction
and daggers shot at my back.
knowledge in this instance
is gained by an unstable source;
the voice of an acquaintance
whom doesn't know the material
or subject quite as well
as they'd like to aknowledge.

misery is my only friend
for the next 5 days.
solitary is even a questionable occurrence.

broken

the world is full of empty people, those that
feign interest and happiness
in the routines of everyday life.
We walk sideways like crabs,
picking at the sand on misfortune,
trying to find some resemblance
of their glory days.
this world is full of shells,
colorful and decorated with smiles
and white teeth. but they cannot
hide the dullness in their eyes,
shiny or not they leak the truth
of despair in their souls.
of course no one i know is like that.
they've yet to be broken,
only now beginning to live their lives,
which 15 - 18 years of it have been wasted,
behind desks and chalkboards.

my world is a shattered dimension of this.
distorted through my hazel eyes.
somewhere not parallel to your own,
but somewhere far off,
a distant relative,
a second cousin
twice removed.
my world is shattered simply because,
the eyes are the window to the soul,
and my soul is broken.
and everything we see,
our perspective, if you will,
is our world. not shared with
anyone but one completely of
our own.
and if my soul is broken,
then my vision is distorted.
then my dimension is shattered.

my soul has been loosing pieces,
like a broken mirror,
whose sharp shards of glass
have fallen from the board they were glued to.
over time, not just with my few seconds of its life,
it has been repeatedly kicked, when down,
as the offender expects a fall
when they will not receive one.
my soul has lived a long time,
passed from generation to generation,
hand to hand,
always falling in the wrong ones.
now, the hand-me-down i've received is
far beyond its breaking point.
it is old, giving me infinite wisdom
on what to avoid and how to live.
wisdom i give to others and ignore myself. (ahaha)
but my soul is close to retirement,
its old age making the new body it was given
hard to keep in touch with.
heaven is calling and i know it must go.

my body is the only thing that will remain,
and my mind,
my beautiful mind,
will carry on with my soul.
the new one i am given,
might be too young.
what will happen to me?
to my creativity?
will i lose that as well?

Since you never give me a chance to explain myself in person

You think I'm just being this way to be this way.
You don't understand how bad of a week this has been.
I'm sorry I've been taking it out on you,
but I'm agitated because this came back.
Full fledged.

I'm hiding it behind misdirected rage
and tears that always threaten to spill over.
The truth is, I just don't give a rats ass about anything anymore.
I don't care.
If you take away this trip I have nothing to look forward to.
I've already been pushing away the idea, for so long,
but now its starting to seem more and more like my only option.

infinite

i think i finally understand what the meaning of "infinite" is...
(not the literal meaning)

last night i found that place of happiness again,
and it's stayed with me until today
until right now.

when the windows are down
and the music is blasted
and i can feel the bass in my gut...

but none of that would mean anything without friends.

and for the first time i went to a hookah bar.
experienced awkward there
experienced smoke bubbles
and laughed about the douchebags that come to that place.

but none of that would mean anything without friends.

i am vintage.

i think the definition of infinite is sundry.
definitely varying per person.
and my definition of infinite is

not filled up with happiness
but able to expand beyond that
to never end.
and to fill the infinity with whatever definition you give to happiness.

and i am infinite.

i believe in god

i also believe in gay marriage, abortions, medicine, and evolution.

but go ahead and condemn me to hell...
i mean, we're all god's children..
but im certain that if i were your actual blood sister,
you wouldnt judge me,
or say a word to me about the choices ive made that may
"defy" god.

religion is not the problem here
god is not the problem here

we are.

well

There's a story in your eyes,
and an iris can't tell lies.
I feel like you're someone I should avoid,
but maybe I'm just being paranoid.

I want to fall in love

I wanna fall in love...
I really do.
I wanna fall in love with myself
as well as someone else.
The only problem is...
I'm afraid of heights.
The only problem is
I've already started to fall for you...
but I know you're not strong enough
to catch me...
to hold the weight of both me
and all of my demons...
when you already have your own
to deal with..
The only problem is
there is no "you."
It would be a simple,
happy ending on my part
if there was a "you".
It would be cliche
but it would mean my salvation
if there was a "you"...
but.... there is no "you".

I wanna fall in love...
I really do.

one more thing

Shafer.

that is all

mirrors

a mirror mirrors our conscious which mirrors the truth.

mirrors are truth?

my conscious is a liar then... I am not, NOT, who I used to be.

but I don't know whether that's a good thing,
or a bad thing.

who have I become?

I still don't know who I am, but I know I'm not who I was.

my conscious is a liar then.... or I am a liar.

a mirror mirrors our conscious which mirrors the truth
and my conscious sees what I cannot.
I like to see, seeing is believing
but looks are deceiving.
and if I cannot see what one does
it drives me crazy.
I see most things!

and I cannot see myself?

i think, not only speak, in rhymes

my mind is playing tricks on me.

i keep imagining that im like you but i dont know you.

my thoughts are infinitely vacant, and i need to write the vacancies that occupy my mind...
i would rather be filled with memories, is that ok?

fear and pain deals a lot with memories, dont you think?

but god damn, the memory is such a subjective thing. dont you think?

now im gonna be stuck in your mind and
in your mindset
and way of
thinking
for the rest of the goddamn day
doyouseewhattyoudotome

fuck you.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

you say nothing like that ever happened to me...but I think you forget that all of that, almost the same exact shit, happened to me. Is still happening to me. I think you forget that I don't have friends like that. that even though I'm a junior and I'm not as quiet as the character of the movie, and that I'm outgoing and smart..I don't have close friends. I have acquaintances..at most. I think you forget about your ex husband and junior high and Angel and losing everything. And I am still losing and losing even though I've already lost so much and I really don't have anything else to lose. I don't think you realize that this has not gotten better and it is worse than it was, even with this medicine. I am so sorry that I lied to you and that I put up this front of happiness but I want you to be happy and your happiness is my happiness. I am so sorry that I told you I'm better and I made it seem like it all went away but I am too scared to admit I need help and I need to go back to that place. I don't want to go back because I will fail my classes and I can't have that, you won't be happy. Basically the whole entire reason I am still living my life is because you believe I deserve to live this life and I don't want you to be sad that I don't want to live this life. And I need help because I want this to end. It's been long enough, don't you think? It's been long enough and its just gonna get longer because let's face it, the only way for this to end is if this ends. Is if I end.

Jesus, what am I, chopped liver?

You call and ask to hang out, which is awesome because that never happens. I always have to ask. I don't really have any friends, or I'm just not important enough to be thought about. So you call, and then I tell you to call later. I even say I will be done around 6. You say you'll call back. I text the number you called from and no reply? I call the number you called from and no one answers?

What the hell kinda game are you trying to play here? I'm just so fucking done with everything right now. Like, I have no one, and then you get my hopes up and crush me time and time again. What's wrong with you?! What's wrong with me?! What have I done that's so severely wrong I have to pay for it by being miserable?

I even told you that I really fucking like you. Like, a lot. You say we're just talking, and that's cool because I think we should get to know each other before we get into a relationship. I don't even know if that will happen. You're just using me. I tell you this and you ask to hang out and then nothing. You can't just do that. You can't just hang with me and act all buddy buddy then ignore me for a week or two!

I'm just done. I give up on you.

teams

team no friends
team sad
team utterly disappointing
team don't get what im doing wrong
team correct grammar
team irony
team depression
team sarcasm
team no team

Humans

Humans are disgusting. I feel disgraced and ashamed to be a part of this race.

Emerson and Thoreau and Poe were right, we are all (as I've stated many times before) carbon copies of another. This goes for thinking as well. We are just parrots, repeating the thoughts and ideas of others, not really thinking them through before adopting them as our own thoughts and ideas. I find this so disgusting, that we would let another man think for ourselves. That we don't think or marvel or wonder. We are (as I've stated many times before) paper people. We are two-dimensional. We think not for ourselves, and we think only of ourselves. I find this disgusting. Do we have such distorted perspectives that only allow us to envision others' perspectives, and not to actually view theirs as our own? Do we have such a distorted mindset that falls so heavily under the rut of thinking that we cannot think for ourselves? I find this disgusting.

I find all human behaviors and actions disgusting.

We do what we do for ourselves and ourselves only. Kindness is not known in the concept of survival, nor is it known in the heart of human minds. For instance, when humans realize their lives are threatened, very few just lie down and die. They will do whatever it takes to preserve their life, including the slaughtering of the future (only to preserve the present, which to me makes no sense). This same concept fuels the motives of everyday actions, conscious or unconscious. Survival is the drive behind every thought and urge that pops into your head. Were ideas merely an invention of mankind?!

I wonder about this.

Just merely trying to think outside of the box is thinking within. There is a rut of thinking that society follows, broken up and swallowed in fear. Fears, which are the constituents of the monsters in the mirrors! Don't you see? Society is mirroring the failures and fallacies which have already been made, and expecting a different outcome each and every time! Wasn't that Einstein's definition of insanity?

It surely is my definition of insanity.

And even my saying that (or typing that, rather) is a prime example of the point I'm trying to make. I am merely a parrot repeating that idea of Einstein. My realization of my conforming is purely disgusting! I am disgusted.

Humans are disgusting. I feel disgraced and ashamed to be a part of this race.

update on life

update on life: fuck you.

Reading an extremely fucked up book: The Death of Bees. I suggest you read it.

Growing up without a father is raising children without an adequate mother is teen pregnancy and poverty is life selling drugs is prostitution and addiction is...

This book has my mind all fucked up.

Excerpt of imaginary book that might soon become a tangible idea (oxymoron):

"The qualms of my reflection are stopped by the palpable force of the mirror. You are just a ghost in glass, dotted with the drops of rain. What say do you have in the actions I take? You just reflect my guilt and sorrow. Tell me things I already know, like your mind holds a different dimension than my own. Dare you point your finger in our face and scream that the fault falls on my shoulders? What right do you have to separate our bodies, and blame one for the actions of another? We are we not I. What right do you have to hold superiority to me, when you just mirror the inferior me? Dare you judge like you would've done differently, when you can make no decisions of your own? I must take a mirror with me everywhere, so your idiocy can be stopped when you are there mirroring the same mistakes as I. Now you hold no greater position, you sit on no higher of a pedestal. You are me not you. Now laugh at me! You can't! It was you as well! You were there! You cannot judge your reflection!"

It sucks that I have so many great ideas for books, and I just can't put my thoughts into words. Hell, I can't even form my thoughts into sentences. My head is about to explode! But then again, these thoughts are probably just wandering lonely in the vast emptiness of my brain. It's a maze in there! Trust me, if I can't even figure it out, my thoughts will never be able to find a way out.

I feel like an impossible Sudoku puzzle. There are two 8's in the same row! DOES NOT COMPUTE!! sdhaio fhewipghriup

OMG CHUBBY SHUT UP!!

My cat is really fucking annoying. But she's Chubs and she's cute and she's sticking her face in my cereal ew.

Writing on this blog again makes me think of Youth. I wonder if Dave still reads this lol no prolly not.

I need to find some way to trim the hedges of this maze so I can express myself.

Paper people in this fucking paper town.

Get me the fuck out of Ohio!

I cannot compare myself to you,

in all of your honesty and

well why do you sell yourself short?

I guess it all comes back in the end.

In your blank eyes,

I see my reflection is a ghost,

dotted with your tears and I

can’t help but swallow myself whole.

There’s just too much of you

that you have lost.

I can’t help but think

it was all your fault.

There’s just too much happening,

and all of it is wrong.

I can’t understand why you left

when I just had let you in,

and you had me believing,

that I could start to feel again.

In your empty smile,

I hear the demons take your words.

They twist your tongue and I

am left hearing all that I’ve already heard.

There’s just too much of you

that you have lost.

I can’t help but think

it was all your fault.

There’s just too much happening,

and all of it is wrong.

I don’t how long this has been going on,

but how can I trust the hands

and the heart

that have led me to acknowledge

that I’m still falling apart?

All I see when I look at you

is my reflection in the dark.

There’s just too much of you

that you have lost.

I can’t help but think

it was all your fault.

There’s just too much happening,

and all of it is wrong.