It's really sweet

the way you feel alone.
and the way you care.
and the way we all care.
and the way we all think we're so unique.
and untouchable.
and how we're all so hypocritical.

and the way
everything's so serious to everybody.

everyone's going through what you're going through.
they might not be thinking in exactly the same way.
or experiencing the exact same experience
but they're all thinking similar.

i remind me
you remind me
they remind me
we remind me

it reminds me

of how precious
we all really are.

because we all want so terribly to be something special
and i just don't know why
but everybody's so set on feeling like they're better than every body else
and i would just LOVE it
if we could all just put it to a halt.

wouldn't you love it
if you could just write something
without subconciousley trying to impress yourself?
or without subconciousley trying to impress somebody else?
or without trying to set yourself apart?
wouldn't you love it if you never wanted to appear any way in particular to you or anybody else.

wouldn't it be amazing
if we all stopped trying to put across
in our our silly little teenage blogs

that actually
WE are 2@11y going through something serious
that WE are the only ones who could ever understand how crazy it was inside of our head
that WE are the only ones different
and that WE're totally exempt of involvement
in everything we complain about.
like "stupid people"

i love the way
everybody still believes that such a person could ever exist.
because stupid is an idea.
and an opinion.
and completely relative.
and opinions mean nothing
to anybody but yourself
or someone who agrees with you.

i myself am tired of being that way.
wanting to be somebody.
i want to want to be nobody.

you can lie
and say
that you don't care about a thing.

but if that was true
you'd run away
or say what was on your mind no matter what.

but honestly
why do we all have it in our heads
that caring is such a bad thing.
it's a balance.
everything's a balance.
because all we are, are animals.
swimming with our human nature
and trying to sustain ourselves the best we possibly can.

for no other reason
that it's simply in our nature.

i don't want to hear you metaphors.
of intrinsic meaning.
because all it does is remind me
how we all feel so down about being the same
even though
exactly the same is impossible.

but essentially the same is inevitable.

i'm so happy anymore.
because everything's beautiful.
and im ok with myself.
and i'm realizing that nothing can make my life but me.
and because i have an extra additive.
of that beautiful boy,
i was writing about on Tuesday May the 12th.

I just wish everybody could take a step back.
and laugh at the fact
that by some chance of nature
we all came to "be", as we call it.
and that we could all see how silly it is
that we all get so bent out of shape
over things that we ourselves created.

Baby

I THINK IT'S HIGH TIME I STOP WRITING ONLY WHEN IM DOWN.

Because I've been up a lot lately.
And I really want the world to know it.



I'm so glad that I'm alive.

because everything's so goddamn beautiful, i swear i could cry :D

So anyways
I was reading something I wrote a little bit ago
and I think
already
i've changed my mind

i've decided that i like people that can smoke
and drink, etc. etc. etc.
because they can hold themselves accountable, and still be good people
as opposed to those folks
that are so weak willed
they let it take over their life.
i mean, they're not weak willed actually. they just have different heads
which is totally fine
but i mean
it's a beautiful thing
that people can do things that make them happy
because life is so beautiful
and you should really just do whatever it is that makes you happy.

i feel like i could go on in life without ever worrying again.
today, i woke up in a really bad mood.
and nothing in particular happened.
i just suddenly feel like i've had an epiphany.





i keep writing, and rambling and running my mouth like a locomotive engine
and i'm doing it because i feel like making somebody
anybody hear
that i really feel like bursting
and i have a feeling that no matter what
it's going to stay that way

because i'll make it.
i'm a bumble bee
and my stripes fell off
and i'm not defending myself anymore
i'm just a fuzzy black bee
or maybe i'm a wasp
and i look like licorice
or maybe i'm an annoying teenage girl who is going through a stage where she's entirely happy about anything and everything that is

everything looks stunning right now.
even a piece of thread from the rug.

Actually

Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated.
George Bernard Shaw

Mark Overby
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.

You hate someone whom you really wish to love, but whom you cannot love. Perhaps he himself prevents you. That is a disguised form of love.

Whatever man. I hope something really terrible happens to me. I wish I could hear myself think. And that I understood what I want. All I keep thinking about is maybe having a heart attack. I know it's messed up, and sadistic. But I swear, I want something horrible to happen to me more than anything.
I want to get hit by a car.
Or get struck by lightning. Or collapse due to dehydration.
I want something
I want anything
that'll let me run away.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again and again and again; I'm a fucking runner. When I feel, it goes too deep. And I can't handle it. Or comprehend it. And it stews in my brain, rotting, and burning, and turning everything in to mush, until I bend over, and my entire mind comes seeping from my nose and eyes. I keep trying to figure out why other people can handle their thoughts and I can't handle mine. And the only thing I can really think of is just that I'm too goddam weak minded or something to be able to exist peacefully, and to try to make sense of both my conscious and my unconscious thoughts. Or maybe, like, I'm missing something. Maybe I'm missing some key ingredient that acts as an autopilot to shut the gears in my head down before it goes in to overdrive, and starts driving me crazy, because suddenly, nothing makes sense. That's why, lately, I've been feeling like all I really want to hope for, is something traumatic. So I could at least have something ligitimit to focus on. So I wouldn't be so at a loss as to what it is that's fucking with me. And that way, I could just lay in a hospital bed, for days at a time, in the physical pain I deserve away from everybody who makes my head hurt. I don't know why I feel like I deserve physical pain. But I feel like punishing myself for something. Maybe for not being smart enough to understand. Maybe for being a human being in the first place. Who really knows? Clearly not I.



just a note:
i hate compliments. i hate them so much.
i don't know why. they should make me feel happy.
but they always just end up making me feel guilty. or sad. or awkward. or annoying. or ungreatful.

i'm so tired right now. i'm tired of being in school and being tired. im tired of going to the guidence councelor and complaining about the same shit. i'm tired of repeating myself, and nothing ever changing. i'm tired of being tired. i'm tired of doing nothing. i'm tired of letting things be. i'm tired of being. i'm tired of being tired of being.
FUCK THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO. Nothing's going to change.
Two more years Miranda. Two more years Miranda. Two more years Miranda. Two more years.
Ahaha, baby doll
you lucky porclean darling in the ground
i'd trade you places in aheart beat, cause you'd have done better
and that's all that you wanted
and you wouldn't have caused all the trees so muchfood.
No, you'd have treasured that murmur
although you mayn't have scurried
over the dunes of the deserts,
you'd at least see the sun
and at least
those trees
would be thankful
not humming
in horror
at the golden gate bridge
imposing
pounding in helplessness
upon it's black stretch
why isn't it breathing
underneath the gray blanket
it's decaying from the inside to the out in the flesh
gills that are filled with dreams of solid gold
suffocating for dreams that will only be reached
at the end of the world.

Change of Heart

Actually
I changed my mind.
I think I'm done with people.

I can't really do it anymore.
I don't like it.
It reminds me of how selfish and hypocritical I am.
It hurts other people's feelings
so I just
want to be done.



i feel like blaming someone.
saying thanks for making me afraid of you all
but really
it's all my fault.
all of it.
ALL OF IT.
Don't ask me to explain myself because I'm not going too.

Im tired of feeling this way.
I need a way out. Because I don't know how I can feel like
"I can't do this anymore"
and continue to "do this"

I hate

That I've made it in my head
that being human is wrong.

But I have.
I don't like a lot of people.
But I like some.

and I shouldn't have to feel bad
for liking humans
but i do
because everybody seems insignificant to me.
Even myself.

So really, all I want to do
is attach myself to a satellite
that's been thrown out in to the universe
in hopes of seeing
if maybe there are others out there like earth.

I mean it's so insane
to look
at a picture of outerspace
and to think
that some how
us organisms
were somehow instilled with the ability to THINK
let alone
see, and hear- whatever SEEING and HEARING really are.
because who really even knows if they're not just the certain structure of molecules hitting our own molecules in a certain way.
*sigh*
I wish I could say this
so it could come out
as astounding as it looks in my head.



even though
if there was
it wouldn't mean anything
to anyone but us.

i feel really dizzy. like i might pass out.
and i can't tell if this migraine
is due to lack of a properly working immune system
or due to overwhelming myself.

also
i've decided to stop swearing
because it's so uncleanly to me.
i mean
i don't mind people that do it
it just...
doesn't fit with my persona.

i feel really sick.

I am Such

An utter sap as of lately.
Which reminds me
sap is so pretty in my head.
It appears to me kind of like honey
dripping off of a tree branch,
the sun illuiminating it from behind.

My writing is so boring.
I mean I could make it interesting.
But I'm hesitant too, because I'm afraid it'll make me shallow.

I know that doesn't make sense to any body but me.

(Note: SO HOW BOUT I FOUND THIS PICTURE AFTER MY COMMENT ABOUT WHAT I THINK OF WHEN I THINK OF SAP!)

In any case I've been too worried about ideals and things lately. Too critical. I really need to stop. I preach perspective, and therefore, I should not find it so necessary to want others to see things from mine. I guess that's just human nature too, but this human nature garbage is really taking the piss outta me lately. Plus, the fact alone, that it's taking the piss out of me, also takes the piss out of me.

I mean, I should really be doing my work here. Some financial literacy module
. But I'm not, because I'm lazy
and it's boring
and dull
and it means nothing to me
so I'm probably gonna fall behind.

Anyways, lately, I've really been thinking about what makes me happy. I mean, I always am, and I always know, it's just, I don't know what to do when laying in a big empty field, or walking alone by a river isn't an option. How do I stay happy? How do I stayed fulfilled?

Do I use , human engineered pleasures? Does it make me shallow if I can enjoy them? I mean, I like old pretty necklaces, and black cowboy boots, and 15th century candle aubras, but sometimes, I feel really bad about it. I try to justify it, beause back then, people were just making things because they were beautiful, and nothing was as selfish as it is now, but i always find myself wondering, if people back then weren't just the same as we are today. I mean, the world isn't bad. And people aren't bad. It's just that everybody is terribly concerned with their own best interest anymore, and no one stops to consider if they're hurting somebody's feelings, or what their actiosn might mean to others.
I don't know.
I guess what I was trying to get at is, I think it;s almost a little disrespectful to the amazing world around us, that we want more and more entertainment devices, and that no one takes the time to appreciates the fact that by some twist of chance, we became organisms, able to be aware, at least to an extent, of what it is that surrounds us.

It goes back to the same thing all the time though: human nature. self sustainability. we really are animals. And I don't say that in a bad way. I say it in honesty.

In my mind, everything is just a bunch of dots. Everything existing.

And we have a few a means in which to interpret the formation of these dots; with our eyes, ears, and noses. But of course, there could be so much missing. And if miracles exist, that we're even able to begin to comprehend any of these little dots, has to be one.

We have names for things.
But it's like recognizing something for the picture it makes up
and calling it a name
and becomming familiar with it
until you're used to it.

But I don't think we should ever get used to it.

Then again though
that's just my perspective. My opinion.
Based on logic I suppose.
Which is good for absolutley nothing in the way of philosophy.

My head hurts, and I'm really pissing myself off with this.
Because I'm contradicting myself, and I sound pretentious, and nothing that I'm writing is sounding pretty, and I have to go Career next block, and I never know what I'm supposed to think, and I'm sick of trying to impress myself, and trying too hard, and never knowing, and being unable to cling on to an idea, or break past the depths I've already reached with them.
I'm fucking stupid.
I'm a dumb
fucking
asshole.

Is it wrong
that it would make me happy
to just have a sweet boy?
Am I pathetic, and cliche for that?
I never cared before
and it's not like I need it
but lately, all I want is
is someone I can actually care about.

I mean of course I have my family.
And in truth, yes I love everybody.
But I want someone with a beautiful mind
and a beautiful face,
with freckles, and dimples
and pretty eyes.
and strong hands,
and brown hair
and slender arms
and a gorgeous smile
and a perfect jaw.

Im so fucking pathetic, I can't even take it.

Ramble, Preamble

Lately, I’ve been having these visions of violence just about everywhere I go. And it isn’t like my conscious imagination either. I’ll be standing on the PAT in the morning, or watching somebody cross a street, and all of the sudden, in my head, I can see a truck slamming in to the side of the bus I’m riding, or a trailer hitting a woman, and catching her in her stomach. I push the hair away from my eyes when the vision is over, and move on feeling grateful that nothing really ever happened. But these persistent occurrences make it impossible for me to feel peaceful.
___________________________________________________________________
Sidney drug his hand across his head, and wiped the perspiration from above his dark brows. “I’m not going” he told the woman, sitting in the passenger seat next to him of his beat up yellow jeep. “I’m not going” he repeated. “I’m not going. I’m not going. I’m not going”. His eyes were narrowed, and his teeth were clenched, but his tone wasn’t whiney as one might have expected. Instead, it was almost empty of all emotion, as he took to repeating his phrase; never more or less forceful than he had when he’d first began. The woman in the seat next to him said nothing. She simply pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and took a drag off of one of the long slender cylinders.
The building next door is such a pleasant cleanly scene. The flat roof’s shingles are long and flat. The ladder climbing up the light beige brick wall is clean, and gray. And the white edging at the top of the wall is exceedingly pallid, especially for a weather ravaged place. In a strange way, it was evocative of a cake, and there was part of me that wanted to slice in to it, if only to reveal it’s true form. Nothing but a giant cake. Too pretty to be an actual building. So plain. So boring. So technical. So lovely. Standing in front of an abandoned McNally and Bond structure, whose contrast, and opposition was just as, if not more, appealing in the sense that through the broken windows, you could almost still imagine, the smell of the chic yellow paper, and the artistic splashing of coffee stains, spilled years ago. There is a subtle difference between abandonment, and abuse. And this building was not painted on by vagrants of the city, or trashy in its disposition. But rather, it was almost elegant and graceful in its old age, and in it’s emptiness. A building can be saved of ugliness, if something beautiful once resode there, like a beautiful woman, or a man in a top hat, when it was the gentlemanly thing to wear.
____________________________________________________________________
I don’t want to be here anymore. So I’ll leave school. And find something so beautiful it breaks my fucking heart. I’ll leave, and keep walking towards the sun, and I’ll meet an old couple on the way, and make them come with me. I’ll do nothing. Nothing but lay in a field. A field of vibrancy, and sun, and purple and yellow flowers. And no one will be there to talk to me. No one will be there to explain myself too. And I won’t have to try to understand anything myself. I want to forget the people I’ve already met, because I don’t like any of them. I don’t like the way anybody’s head works. I don’t like the way the world is. I want a simpleton, to enjoy the simple things with, because I can’t be satisfied, (or maybe, I don’t want to) be satisfied, by only things that human beings engineered. I hate cigarettes. And alcohol. And sex. And things like that that make everything feel animalistic, and disgusting. I want to forget that the world outside of that field exists. I was to forget that anybody ever came up with jobs, or money, and social classes, or trends. I want everything I do to be pure, and based off of what will make me happy, and not based on anything else. I’m tired of restrictions. Of having to have documents and papers, and money to go where I want in a world that I’m part of. I’m tired of territory, and countries, and plane rides, and trains, instead of floating logs tied together with bamboo.
If things have to be a certain way, I wish they wouldn’t be so tainted, and uncleanly. It seems like almost anytime someone does anything it has to be for a particular reason, instead of being out of the goodness of their hearts. Business buildings should only exist if someone specifically decides that they want to do something that they later call “business”. Not cruel business though. Not thieving business. Business to help people. It’s just a shame. Because people wouldn’t need help or legal folks, or advertisement marketers, or lawyers if everybody could do things without needing to pay for it. No one would be mean to each other, because everyone could see everybody as individuals without any biases to prejudge on, and everybody would want to care about each other, because they’d put themselves in the other person’s shoes. I guess the hard part is, there isn’t a good way to think, and that’s something I wish my unconscious mind would just accept so I could stop going through the exhausting acrobatic contradictions that tumble, and clash, in my mind. It’s all like a picture within a picture within a picture. The further I go, the further I’m pulled, and the more off track I get, until I can’t even remember where I started when I began, or what the point of it is, or if there’s even a main idea hiding there at all. I think that people force themselves to enjoy human innovation, because unstained, genuine appreciation for life is impossible if the world we’ve created. We’re all so naïve. We all think existence is something significant. But nothing is significant. And the world is to enjoy. Because are lives’ are to be sustained. But nobody can do that. Because everyone thinks that there’s more to it than there is.