Gazing at the Galaxies

...

Let my soul rest in a state of relative peace. \\\

Reaching Toward a Mirror

I love my wild posts like the last one. They are lulzy to look back at. Who am I writing to? My intended audience is me, and that explains my style. If I wanted to read some sane, boring person's blog I'd check my subscriptions. But I don't know of any crazy weirdos like me. How would I find their blog? It's not like you can search blogs by favorite color. Blapink. That's mine.

...That's why I have to blog. To read them. It's like talking to myself, which is only crazy if you do it where people can hear.

And that's why I'm doing this in front of the entire internet.

I'm just crazy like that!

Defy your fate and don't accept the consequence!

If I'm going to dish it out I better be able to take it in return. And I can, so to all who internet stalk me, I say this! "Pahaha! I can take it. Hoo yeah!"

And as for fate. Fate has been eating at me for so long, and now I'm just P.O.'d and I intend to fight back. I've got to find a way to trick fate and hand it over to the grave.

Consequences schmoncequences. Don't except them. Heck, don't even think about them. How can you except what you aren't even thinking about? Passivity. And that's something I don't buy.

This is irrelevant to anything you think you know about me.

I'll steal your face too, if you're not careful!

It's definitely blog time. Right now.

So, I've... I've been writing a story. Well, writing and drawing. More drawing, but some writing. Both the writing of it and the drawing are really crappy, but they kind of support each other, so I hope in a way they stand together approaching worthy of being read, and appreciated... by somebody. or by everybody, I don't care.

The thing is, I reached a point in the story where I had to draw faces. And I stole the pics of my facebook friends. I just laid the page against my computer screen and traced it. Like, they're obviously copies of the pictures. I'm pretty darn sure that if those two people see my story they will recognize their picture.

...I invent new ways to be awkward because for someone like me, there just aren't enough already in existence. heh. yeep.

Sorry MM and EB. I just, really like your faces... I hope I can still be your facebook stalker *cough* I mean friend.

Nah, I'm kidding, if this freaks you out, please don't take it that seriously, I just needed something to go by, because I'm not that good at drawing and I have to have something to guide me, and your faces fit the part. (I sure as hell couldn't use my ugly mug.) I hope you understand....

...I hope they understand.

I'm not going anywhere

I am bored. What should I do?
This punishment is so undue.
I wish there were someone like you.
That I could talk and ramble on to.

This thought is Monopolizing.

Once a week I wonder wryly
As I do, I chuckle dryly
what is it that's so enticing?
Drawing in and mesmerizing
Dreams with neon colorizing
Burning sky of sun arising
Letting blaze the new horizon
only half as magnetizing
Super Star amphetamizing
Addiction from imperkisizing
Pistolero analyzing
Three-oh-three omnicronizing

---

I have that thing on my mind, it seems...

Lufituaeb Eb

I want to see the parts where the world is broken and collapsing. Maybe I could fix them... or, I dunno, maybe they would swallow me up.

Odd, though, one can hardly find a pocket of anything true; pure.

It's all crumbling, reducing the the basest particles; entropy's end.

Maybe the question "What are you still doing here?" is far deeper than I thought. Next time I will respond "What amI doing here on this earth? I would love to find out. But I can't do it alone."

Going alone should be less scary. heh.

Blog title

Blog words.

It feels like this

When I think about my heart... this is as close as I can create to the image I see in my head.

Dear life, I hate you

..... I'm never going to be loved like I once was... I know it's perfectly hopeless... absolutely bleak.... A washed-up loser like me will never get another chance with a girl like the one I knew before. They don't even exist anymore, and anyway I've become an unlovable cretin... This life just sucks! Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than to love at all was a lying bastard!

I've got to stop... but I'm addicted

It's this blog. Even though it's dumb and I hardly take it seriously, I find myself getting soooo bored and coming here to write down whatever happens to hit my mind. And I don't write it on facebook for fear of getting a response. What a joke, eh?

Oh well. No matter how many addictions you get, getting another one doesn't make you lose an old one; they just seem to pile up unless you intentionally rid yourself of them. For me, it all started with oxygen, once I took that first breath I couldn't stop, and now days I just breathe and breathe all day long... Honestly though, I don't have an "addictive personality" in that I'm prone to pick up addictions all the time, but that doesn't mean I'm ammune. I've had addictions. some I've been able to drop and some still cling to me. Bear in mind it all depends on your definition of addiction, and I suppose mine is rather loose. I consider my former habit of chronic nose picking an addiction. I'm currently addicted to blogging. In the future I will be addicted to being awesome. (If I ever become awesome)

Till then,

I am by no means who you think I am.

Ahhhh... the answer is IF

I found out one of the reasons I keep getting so... ugh, I dunno, whatever it is that makes me write these pathetic rants/drivel sessions. (emobratesque)

I only noticed it today when I went walking in the park with my headphones on and found that I had no In Flames on my mp3 player! Over the past few months I've phased their music out of my daily life. But today arose the distinct need to listen to their beautiful, soul-reaching metal.

And it might sound backwards but a nice Jester's Dance or Dawn of a New Day not to mention the occasional Abnegation, Jotun, Take this Life, and Delight and Angers can really do a lot to sooth my mind. (yeah yeah, sorry for being a little fangirl, I'm done.)


All music has its own time and place.

No one for me

Today I had the repetitious and unmistakable feeling that there is simply no one for me. I feel very strongly that I won't be able to trick my heart into opening up to anyone ever again. It is rather dismal and leads to sudden pangs of angst, but simultaneously I'm relieved of worrying about trying to "get a girl".

I zone out more, and leave this reality in search of one where the above is no longer true, because something deep inside me still -still feels the need to persue the destruction that inevitably comes of all notions of love in this age of distortion, distance and dissonance...

I'm not usually this bipolar. I thought I was better... but I guess not.

I contemplate why, but it's always different versions of the same answer... I'll attempt to put it into words at a later date.

Hello!

Everything is... better.

It was a totally rainy, crappy day, weather wise... but I had things to get done, and I was forced outside my hole; a.k.a. my room. Despite how not everything went perfect during my errand running, I return home a better man.

That's the word of today: "better"

I love wasting time

I see it all so clearly now. Everyone else has got their ever-so-precious life and I... what do I have... I have my dumb computer, dumb yoyos, dumb self, dumb games, dumb escapism, DUMB blog, a lot of dumb useless crap. I pour copious amounts of time into all that. It's sickening. REALLY SICKENING. And it isn't helping anything or anyone.

I long for someone to come along and save me. (preferably a girl)

But nobody has found it sensible to give me their care... because I'm not an investment worth investing in.

It's like
Knock, knock.

who's there?

Not a sense of purpose.

Not a sense of purpose who?

...

My life is a joke and I wish I knew the punchline.


.....


I should end this by saying that I think I saw a small semblance of hope a few days ago. I don't know. But that's what's keeping me alive for now. Emover and out.

Not a care in the world

...but a few cares in hell.
oooh, what does that even mean!?




Anyway, I guess I get as many cares as I give.
Yeah. that one made no sense either. Keep trying.




I suppose what I'm trying to say is: I can only get as much out of someone as I put in, and one way to measure it is in units of care. hm, I wonder what unit that would be... possibly "craps" as in "I don't give a crap about you" or "she cares a crapload about her bf." yeah, maybe not a good unit to express care in. how about "Fenburs" named after Dodeleo Fenburs of the Netherlands. (He's famous for being the most caring person ever. I just made that whole thing up) In units of Fenburs, the amount of care given to another person is equivalent to the amount returned, except in special cases such as parenthood or obsession.

Interesting isn't it? it's not!? Oh, well then you don't have to read it! x_x

Sometimes I just feel execrable...

I'm just like the people I pity. My mind is just as torn...

(Every sentence contained the word "just"... I wonder why I need so many justs when I'm driveling?)

The jibblies

For a second I thought to myself, "I think my dad reads my blog"

It gave me the jibblies. The jibbly jibblies.

I hope my assumption that he, unlike me, actually has a life, is true. (nice sentence structure, there) I'll admit, it is weird that I'll write things the whole world has access to, but don't want my dad to know. In my life everything is weird....

A guide to dying

I listened to a Radiolab podcast in which they talked about death. Particularly a guy who died and had sent himself a time-delayed message. His family got it. They took interest in the writings he made during his life. His mom found his blog... and left comments on it... long after he was dead and gone. (Which I found weird and creepy, but ok.) I hope this blog isn't found, because it's totally lame. but if it is, after I'm dead, this is what I would like to say:

Sorry for this crappy blog. Don't read it or any others and don't watch my DUMB youtube videos. I hope that by the time I reached my death I had left some sort of legacy. uh... I don't have any money hidden in books or anything. Try not to be too sad about my being gone. There's still plenty of life to live here before you die, so live it! And when you die, we'll be in Heaven together. I wish I could say I have no regrets. The thing I regret is giving in to my inhibitions too easily. I was too shy and weak. I wish I would have DONE more y'know? Like risk my life(or my heart) more often or buy a sports car or gone to New York or something... I dunno, this has been a weird blog entry.

Peace out.

As usual, be careful for what you wish

I've worn the same black jeans for four days in a row now.

:]

yeessssss. I love my liiiiiife.


"Enjoy today." The most encouraging thing I've ever heard. And it was printed on a small box of raisins. ...Minus the "cou".

I'm thinking about going emo

I combed my hair forward, over my ears... it's not such a bad look for me. Says me. I'll need to shave my beard but I was gonna do so anyway s'okay. I have no peircings, guess this means I better get some. Preferably all over my face. I'm not gonna get converses, my clunky Vans will have to do. I've only got one pair of black jeans, but they're nice and tight. Emos wear the same thing days in a row don't they? I'm already very bad at poetry and like 'dark' things so I've got that covered. I don't have a myspace, and that may be a hindrance, but my facebook account will have to do.


I think I can really make emo work for me. ...As I drift through the stormy night in a sea of misery and angst.