| weaknesses |
[Nov. 27th, 2009|04:09 pm] |
Just because she makes fun of herself doesn’t mean shes completely comfortable with herself. Just because she walks alone to class doesn’t mean she doesnt have any friends. Just because she laughs all the time doesn’t mean shes annoying. Just because people talk about her, doesn’t mean she likes it. Just because she gets a lot of attention, doesn’t mean she is an attention freak. Just because she gets things from her parents doesnt mean she is a spoilt brat. Just because she is a daydreamer, doesn’t mean she never pays attention. Just because she jokes all the time, doesn’t mean she can’t be taken seriously. Just because she smiles all the time, doesnt mean she is always happy. Just because she is quiet sometimes, doesnt mean she is sad. Just because she tries her hardest all the time, doesn’t mean its gonna pay off. Just because she is called names for saying something dumb or being annoying, doesn’t mean she can keep taking it.
Unknown (via kidlovesdoodles:theloversociety,eatplastik) |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 27th, 2009|03:52 pm] |
|
having an opinion is one thing, and having too much opinion leads to judgement, and criticism, which eventually convinces you into a restricted, distorted personal point of view. if a person is judged and determined as what they consists of so easily, an d so trivially. im sorry, its sad. its just going a whole big round and conforming yourself into one box again. the world is harsh enough, real enough, i dont need more cynicism than there already is in the real world. sometimes it baffles me why people just cannot be nice and normal for once, because if you're that, you are boring. i don't know anymore. i would rather be the devil's advocate. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|04:24 pm] |
| [ | Music |
| | bob dylan- house of the risin sun | ] |
jack london big sur desert syndrome when i listen to bob dylan. i love his voice.
makes me want to wear just a freakin poncho and boots and sit outside my shabby cabin smoking hash haha.
tumbling weeds and dry breath
itchy eyes and lost highways
scratchy air. imagining my face buried in the hot desert sand.
letting the heat sink in and burn into me till i feel nothing but the throbbing waves of orange.
so raw. and stripped. and old. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 20th, 2009|11:08 pm] |
| [ | Music |
| | horror head - curve | ] |
personal redemption. cant go on like this anymore. ill end up killing myself and the people around me.
but im clueless as to where to start, and where to end, or where to even place myself. the line is too long, and its forming into a vicious, vicous circle, lashing itself like a snakes tongue. tightening like a ring of fire, so burning, its numbing everything around it. what if i could kill myself, metaphysically, but get lost in the beginning. i would and will be numb forever. |
|
|
| too into sanity. |
[Oct. 12th, 2009|03:52 pm] |
| [ | Music |
| | arcadia- apparat | ] |
wow. i think i am going mad. turning. becoming. and finally am mad. hallelujah. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 18th, 2009|04:50 pm] |
|
fuck me. fuck you. fug me. fug you. fuck everything. order. sense. logic. this. that. |
|
|
| Miniature Bridges, Your Mouth - Marty McConnell |
[Sep. 10th, 2009|02:31 pm] |
I literally don't know your middle name. does that
matter? what systems we arrange for intimacy, small
disclosures like miniature bridges, your mouth. not
what I'd anticipated. softer. to begin with,
I should tell the truth more. I could miss you,
and that's a liability.
xxx
I am not often off-kilter. but you're so silent, even
naked, and almost absent. I hush too, why
are we here. go. want to throw things, you, the clock,
break windows until something bleeds and you finally
scream. I tell you too much; we are not
those people. or nothing--maybe I say
utilitarian fuck. how would that be. I want you
to want to fall in love with me and that's
unhealthy. wrong. leave your shoes by the door
and pretend it's about the movie. it's love
in the movies it's casablanca and toy story
and water no ice come here. pockets need
to be untucked, drawers thrown open,
nobody's safe. there, I've said it:
someone I was could have loved you. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 1st, 2009|12:24 am] |
| [ | Music |
| | pj harvey- we float | ] |
wax lyrical eh. dramatic overtures and luscious words. i do not want facts to be just facts that should be accepted just for the fact that it is a fact. does that make sense? must that make sense? does sense and sensibilty always come together as a pair or whole? why cant we answer a question with a question? why must we confirm or end everything with a conclusion or a full stop? i could question in an entire paragraph hahaha are you sick of me now? hahahahaha?
full stops should only be allowed at the end of your life, where all you see is a tiny black dot at the end of your eye's tunnel. and then poof, a blank page. spotless. white.
We wanted to find love
We wanted success
Until nothing was enough
Until my middle name was "excess"
And somehow I lost touch
When you went out of sight
When you got lost into the city
Got lost into the night
I was in need of help
Heading to blackout
Till someone told me "Run on in, honey,
Before somebody blows your goddamn brains out"
You shoplifted as a child
I had a model's smile
You carried all my hopes
Until something broke inside
But now we float
Take life as it comes
We float
Take life as it comes
So will we die of shock
Die without a trial
Die on Good Friday
While holding each other tight
This is kind of about you
This is kind of about me
We just kind of lost our way
We were looking to be free
PJ Harvey is THE GODDESSSSS. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 28th, 2009|01:23 pm] |
same difference. everything is moronically ironic.
i hope my psychadelic realization sticks with me. everything changes but we are still the same. hahahaha.
a friend smsed me the other day. one single message bright, against the dim background of my phone screen, early in the morning. "maybe there is still hope". just maybe, everyday we try to find as much of it as we can scavenge.
"spend your life on something that will outlast it."
just do it. |
|
|
| contrite. |
[Aug. 17th, 2009|12:33 am] |
i dreamt of foreign experiences, places, emotions, as i sat at starbucks reading my beloved anais nin. all the mindless chatter droning around me. yuppies in their white shorts and tight shirts, girls with their long manes and chain handbags. flipping them horse manes to attract thy male attention. how i long to get out of this. i cant complain though, im living. i stuff in my earphones, zone out, enter another world. so much more intense and alive than all around me.
you need to float or you will sink. aha moment with my sis today. im so thankful our relationship is getting ever so tight. i love her. we will leave all this alright? im working on it. no more weaknesses.
ive taken a liking to the cheesy bluesy oldies, buddy holly, eddie lighthouse, the drifters, mamas and papas, the hollies. sweeeeet. |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
acidfolks's journal