My slack in writing has come from my general lack of purity and any consumable ideas that have been filtered through my head in the past few weeks. my attitude has been a cautious one with short steps and long strides. i look at my feet in the windows as i pass the giant windows at school by the music department, and i wonder why everything can't look as amazing as walking without bodies. i often question my purpose as a writer, and i've never come to terms with the fact that i have none. my purpose as a writer is to be a writer, so i have nothing to accomplish after i say type or write the first letter of anything. i have no goals, except to make my friends happy, which is not a good goal because i'm a terrible professional smile generator. i can hardly smile myself.
sometimes i lie awake at night, how cliche is that? but i do, i lay awake in my bed in the dark, and think about how i should move my bed away from the window because i am constantly sick from the cold, or maybe if i didn't close my vent at night i would be warm and not freeze my poor lungs, but they take abuse enough as it is and i figure the little more of nothing but cold air couldn't harm them worse than smoke. it's alright. if i moved my bed, i don't think i would like my room, and if i did, i would have to move all my pictures, and i would have holes in my walls and it would be tacky, and where would i put my desk? i refuse to be the teenager with the laptop on my floor, i'm not pathetic. it's on a desk.
would you stay with me if i was a terrible person with no character traits to me name?
well i'm with you now, so why would i leave? you already are all that.
i don't get mad at people, i honestly don't. what happens is i get hurt, and i want to hurt them back the way they hurt me, and you might think this is anger, but it's only defense. and normally i win, and it turns into aggressive action, and i'm spitting words at them knowing they are being hurt, and i don't care, because i'm scared of them now, and i want them to stay away. it's to protect me, because obviously they aren't my friends, so i have no reason to like them, or be nice to them, but i like everyone, so they can just dislike me. there are people i don't trust with me, so i let them live without me, and it's no big deal to them, because i'm no great person, but sometimes.. it's just how i am. i'm scared.
love
so there IS something to accomplish after youu type the first consonant or vowel of anything youu wish to write.
i moved myy bed just last week because i tired of waking up in the morning, trying to get off on the left side, and slamming myy face into a wall.
i always thought that it was nothing; i would learn to get off on the right side soon enough.
i supposed i am stubborn and i
&i have no idea whyy i typed all of that.
maybe youu shall know, that's what i'm thinking.
and the thought of you knowing is comforting for no reason at all.
pitiful? yes.
but i shall tell youu not to be, to at least tryy.
after all, the word "audacityy" is up there.
as a reminder, right??
i hurt people on purpose all the time, sometimes onlyy to see how theyy would react. once, one of them told me that no matter what i said, theyy would still be myy friend. i panicked, this particular person was weighing me down, keeping me from doing as i wished.
youu know, i trusted and was so proud of myself for doing so. it had been a while. so i poured everything out. myy old fears, the things i had to overcome with life and pain and suffering. i told *him* everything, and i was proud of myself.
i fucking hate him, but i tell myself i don't. i don't hate anyone, remember?? hate is bad. it kills people. it changes people.
that scares me. the killing. the changing.
wow, i am so sorryy for all of these nonsensible comments.
i think that this was myy wayy of finallyy venting.
don't be scared, okayy.
or maybe, being scared is a good thing.
it gives youu a different sense, an entirelyy new feeling.
yes, maybe being scared is good.
man, i think i should just shut up now.