when i am alone, there is nothing i would rather do than go up to my room, light a million candles, some incense, open a window, and experience the laments of long dead but immortal composers while watching out my window as life passes me by. i watch the little kids run around and have fun, and i watch my neighbors grow up and begin driving and move out, and i watch their parents gain gray hairs. i wish my street was not a dead end, there isnt enough life passing by to watch. ive come to the conclusion that i was born to the wrong family. i hate the thoughts. i love the thoughts. i live by the thoughts, the thoughts have become a part of me, when my mind was young wet cement, they layed down and buried themselves in it so that they could never be taken away, and i dont mind that. they are my lifestyle, a part of my personality. i should have been born into a family where my parents either understand the thoughts, or dont care about me. because sometimes, when the love-hate relationship i have with that part of me turns from love to hate, i need to drown those thoughts in alcohol or do something else to make them go away. and they dont understand that. but they do understand that regardless of how old my mind is, my body is not 21. and its, gasp, ILLEGAL. ive also come to the conclusion that i am not born at the right time, or i am reincarnated, or something of the sort. i know it sounds like bullshit, and i dont care. i hate the 90s, i hate whateverthefuck you want to call this hell of a time period, the 2000s, the ripe and fruitful future that i want no part of, the future that seems like an end. i want 200 years ago, and i want the late 60s. i want no air conditioning and open windows and swimming in streams and not having to lock my doors, i want running through feilds of wheat and flowers with my love. i want a time when war didnt mean millions of people dying from one bomb. it just has seemed to me, since i was very young, that im waiting for something to happen, and its going to happen during my lifetime. i hate this world. as i told kelsey, i hate life. im not a depressed cutter person. slit my wrists and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye, er, vein, no that isnt me. im not saying i hate my life, im saying i hate life in general. i see no reason for earth or any of this bullshit to be here, why are there trees? why are there animals? why are there flowers there to get stomped on by my brother and his little friends? and most of all, why, are there humans? that alone makes me doubt the existence of a higher power, especially if we were created in His image, because that would make him flawed like us. no higher power in his/her right mind would put creatures so destructive and self destructive as humans anywhere. im beginning to agree with the matrix, aside from the fact that humans have cells, i believe they are more like a virus than any other species is. we will use up this earth and ruin it and move on, if we havnt brought ourselves to some self-destruction by then. this is like some sick mock deep entry. i dont like it, its making me want to puke. somethings wrong, i shouldnt be here. why do i feel a hundred on the inside? im so tired... _____________________________ i need someone to take this heavy weight that i somehow put on my shoulders and throw it past the moon. it would look like a beautiful shooting star, couples that think they are in love would wish on it. i need to get on a carousel or a ferris wheel and not get off until i feel like 15. jesus, do i sound 15 to you? let go of my hands before i drag you down with me. this headache kills, how the fuck am i supposed to do source cards (with made up information, i might add) when i feel like something is trying to blow my head up like a balloon? haha. random memory, that i think is funny: sixth grade, academic stretch, the "gifted" class. vocabulary. substitute teacher. one of those old ladies, real proper and shit. she asked, "what is an urn?" it was one of the words. i raised my hand and i told her that an urn was a place to keep the ashes of dead people, of course. her mouth dropped slightly, and she uneasily licked her lips before looking at me strangely and saying that i was a morbid child. she didnt call on me again. i guess she wanted me to tell her an urn was a vase to keep happy flowers in?