Except for you

in regards to my last post

i like you
and you

because you two get me more than anyone else.
and im not afraid of you.
and im not used to that.

One More For Kicks

i've realized that i care too much
and i don't want too

and that's why everyone's on earth
and i am the next nearest planet.

i wasn't traumatized like everyone likes to pretend they were.
i don't have trust issues.
i just don't want anyone too close.

because then i have to care.
and that makes me feel panicky.
because i feel the need to make things right for people even though i can't.
and i hate it when i can't
but i hate it when people act like i did
because i didn't and they make me feel embarrassed.

no.
i don't have trust issues.
not trusting anybody isn't an issue.
and nobody did anything to me to make me the way i am.
i don't trust anybody
to not require my care for them.
i can't be relied on.

because im a runner.
and i need to be able to run away without hurting anyone
and

because i'll let you down.
or i'll have to lie and say something nice
when all i really want to do is yell at you
and say something hypocritical that i could apply to myself

even though
if you're like me
you can't
so i shouldn't be yelling at you to do so
and i shouldn't want to yell at you
because you're probably just like me.

i don't want to have to feel like i tried and failed to explain myself.
because it'll always be a failure.
because the opposite isn't possible.

i don't want to ever talk to anybody again.
i want to be a mute.
i want to exist in my bed.
and i want to watch UFO shows on television.
and engage in eddy behaviors.

i can't articulate
and you're not understanding me right
because i can't grasp everything in my head
and none of this is what im thinking its just little bits of whats going on in my head
morphed in to something that isn't quite what i feel.

its the closest i can get and i hate it.

somebody turn me in to plastic please
so the seams on the sides of my body can be bitten off
by the teeth of little kids
who just began to grow their bones.

so my face can be pushed in
my hollow head
and body
ripped apart by your dog
who chews on your favorite possessions
as if to spite you
despite his own toys.

i'm so sad. i'm so sad. will somebody tell me why my nerves are so shot?
who shot them?
hey! why'd you shoot them! hey!
they did nothing to you!
but you shot them! how come?

and will somebody please tell me just what they did
to make me so afraid tonight?
to make me feel so panicked tonight?
and every single night of my fucking life?

why are my eyes shaking?
why can't i ever feel happy?
why am i so anxious?
why does it feel like im going to die and why do i really want that to happen?
is it really that hard?
am i that hard to please?

or is it just that im like a goddamn gold fish
my attention span gone in the space of 5 seconds

that must me it
that must be why
i'm only fulfilled by things that don't last very long
because whenever i was born
i didn't have the capacity to enjoy things for more than five seconds. so in turn everything i enjoy will only last that long.
what the fuck was i thinking?
what the fuck am i thinking?
what the fuck am i doing?
does saying fuck make me trashy?

im not trashy. im not trashy. i swear im not. i hope im not. oh god don't give me something else to want to change about myself.

am i really unahppy with who i am?
i am. i am. i can't be satisfied. but why?
do i just need something to drive for
since nothing else is important enough?

hey look there it is again!
if that's all true
then it means im selfish
and i can hate that too !

everything i think comes back to me
and there's shit all over my face from yesterday
because i couldn't ignore that unsettled feeling in my head
if i could just ignore myself
i daresay i wouldn't have to erupt like Mt. Saint Helens
or even worse
like yellowstone park
spewing bits of lava on to the walls for you to have to clean up later
face distored in utter disgust.


stop being sad girl. stop being sad girl. stop thinking girl. stop thinking girl. stop thinking girl.
just go insane. why can't you just please go insane.
your doing this to yourself.
you're doing all of this to yourself. and none of this makes sense.
and none of it means anything. because you don't mean anything. because anything is relative. so nobody really means anything. which means your words don't mean anything. and your feelings don't mean anything. and you should fucking throw yourself from a cliff.


NOTHING IS WRONG.
NOTHING IS WRONG.
NOTHING IS WRONG.
WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE SOMETHING IS WRONG?



SELF PITYING GIRL
who the hell do you think you are?
this is nothing
and no one cares but you and thats the way it should be
because this isn't anything special or new
and you're the only one that feeling
plus its just the way you want it.
and its just the way it should be.
why does repeating feel so nice?
juts try it.
just try it.
just try it. just try it. just try it.
and try it and try it and try it and try it andtry it and try it and try it.


I WOULDN'T EVER HURT MYSELF
BECAUSE I LOVE MY FAMILY WAY TOO MUCH.
is it terrible i wish they'd be mean to me
so i wouldn't have anybody to hurt?

this is it serving it's purpose

the pressure in my head builds its all my fault so i shove the pressure somewhere else somewhere i can feel it.
somewhere that it's easier to get rid of.

it's psychological
but it helps
and its times like these that i actually recognize
how great it feels

to go from feeling so intensely hateful
so grotesque
so fearful for my life

to feeling so tired
and light headed
and empty
and relieved.

my heart goes from pounding to being barely noticeable at all.
i want to cherish this forever. i love it so much. but i'm a girl with a sickness-- a sickness whose longevity is due to the symptoms it produces, including attachment to a self deprecating and destructing friend.

this is what lets me forget.

and if all that is forgettable
then the seriousness of the danger
fades away in to the background
only occasionally becoming visible
in moments of clarity
that never last long enough to let me change.

my legs have taken on the consistency

of marshmallow bones, and jello skin.
my torso is as heavy as an elephants, who's body is coated in ashy gray wrinkles
and I discovered this morning that I can no longer walk.

the trumpeters say that my minerals can be excavated
that they're vibrant and present
that in theory, I'll survive.

but when electric buzzers tap at my temples
with the incessant relentlessness of the white noise from a television
whos cables have been bled on by a victim hanging outside of your house
i can't help but wonder when the power'll go out.
my clock reads zero and a half AM and my mom said in her wretched silence
that to care would be harder
than to throw me away in the trash disposal
so little blades can cut my body and my marshmallow bones
will turn soggy like the lucky charms
you were too lazy to throw away.

this is all a waste of time, and feeble attempts to comprehend the incomprehensible

dark matter, and electrons-- made of what?

the ice cream cones, or play pit balls
tied up on strings in cannonballs?
no wait, please, i'm trying to be proud of something.
give me a metal for wanting it the most.
give me a metal for being just like you.
give me a metal for writing like Holden Caulfield for a little on purpose
after i read the catcher in the rye.

but give one to everyone else too.
just make us feel fucking special somehow.
we're all babies. toddlers.
and every one of us has had a little new born brother born
to deteriorate the smell of cheerios and play dough
that was given
now it's taken.

if they think you exhale oxygen
you never have to stop and try to believe
that you're a savior on your own.

we are trained in to the need for validation.
just like dogs are trained to sit
and cats are trained to lay around.

i was thinking about it this morning. and i'd trade my opposable thumbs and toilet bowl
for a life of laying around.
i have no motivation.
i don't want to do anything.
i want to sleep and sit on my ass forever
and become fat and smelly
so i can live in the world i've created in my head.
i wish i was insane.

her face

was melted and there were tendons pulling from the left side of her face.
you could see the outline of her cheekbone
and her jaw

but on the right
was the face of a goddess.

i asked her why she was here?
why had she been committed to the hospital?
all she did was tap her fingers and I felt my eyes lingering on a number that was visible
like a polished tattoo
on the inside of her wrist.

she whispered every time she spoke.
"because i think my mother's with me" she replied.
i walked around to the other side of her bed feeling frightened by the grotesque state of her face.
it was the kind of horror that made you want to cry.
not only because you felt bad
but because it was so hideous.

and that's when she started gasping.
weezing even, violently as if starved for breathable air.
her concave chest rose and fell haphazardly and her thin fingers gripped wildly at the sides of the bed sheet as she flailed
screaming, eyes rolling up towards the back of her skull
as if almost in pain
moaning "i'm here! i'm here!"
before abrubptly quieting down again, as the whispering voice of the goddess returned. "we woke her" she whispered.
"we woke her".

an empty silence followed, as the girl closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
but it wasn't a silence in which you could sit and be calm.
it was a silence filled with the continuous echos of fear
and shrieks.
it was a terrible cry.
a cry of a desperate woman, longing to be believed.

but nobody wanted to believe her.
I didn't want to believe her.Because if I did, I would have to admit that something so distrurbing could exist outside of a movie theater.

she should leave her poor daughter alone.
she should leave her alone, get out of her body, and stop scaring all whose eyes happen upon her.

but she wouldn't. and as a result, the poor girl was the portal for the dead who didn't want death.
she was the portal for the dead
who couldn't accept it.

trembling a little, and trying to recover from what i'd just witnessed, i stepped backwards a few steps, and plasma colored clouds began to rise among her body.

soon my grandfather's figure was huddled over on the floor in front of the bed
and my own mother's voice came shouting from the other room asking "are we a male ghost this time?"
sarcastically, as if she already knew.

the voice that replied was impatient, as always
"help me to the goddamn bathroom jackie"
it demanded
and my mother's voice came back
sounding a little disgruntled in reply, yelling
"i'll help you to the bathroom in a minute dad"


and it came to me in a dream.

i want to rub it in your faces

like paint on the hands of a four year old in preschool.
you might not like the way my bones are growing larger
than the skin trying to contain them

but i don't listen to matriarchs;
my eyes are only open to the meaningless logic
of those that logically logicize that logic is legitimate.
it's my nescience to your tumultuous cries of mourning and concern
that lets me continue with my self inflicted wear and tear.

my eyes were scratched with the grains of life
and a bleeding heart that never clots in cold weather
is covered in its blood, reproachful of the world.

i've seen nothing more than you have.
but i'm less brave
in that i can not ignore and accept.

and being aware means only that i am conscious
that i could be all which i'm afraid of being.

im sorry

did i put a spot on the porcelain? you make it easier for me to talk, dear. just like a blade of grass as sharp maybe as the one that cut that little girls face. she made herself pet and i felt for a second, like i was beautiful. i remember those gowns in that garden and longing so tremendously to feel as horribly stunning as all the other little milkmaids looked. but the paper wasn't printed quick enough to crinkle in my hands. I'd already wasted it on vibrant string they wrapped around the wires sprouting from my head. you should have been there back then. my face was a faerie's glittering and periwinkle but i was crying because i was frightened
and everything terrified me. i never could decipher what was dangerous and what was not. now, though, if i could go back the hulk would take me for a ride on his back and maybe even fling me off so for a moment i could swallow in something significant enough to strike a chord in my impassioned body that way, maybe it could resonate to all of you and play in your ears like this old man with a harp and a harmonica the ear hair of your canals beneath his feet like grass and the greasy skin of your cartilage being held on to for balance. my mind is all over the place today. i wish my words didn't seem as forced as they always tend to look.

Im a Frog

I PULL OUT MY STOMACH AND SCRAPE IT OUT

im too stupid to understand quantum mechanics and it makes me physically angry
so i beat a tree with a baseball bat last night.
my family says i always look miserable at parties; it's because i am.

I dreamnt about two girls smoking at some camp last night
they were my best friends and they got sent home
and I was left there with a girl i just met
who intimidated me because she was so pretty.

marease said the other day that he had to sit towards the back because he was black.
that wasn't the reason. but i told him he was absolutely right.

i thought my ears were going to bleed in the MRI this morning!
my blood has too much metal in it!
and it's pooling in my left jaw!
it burns- why does it burn?!!
oh my god its going to explode.

no no no. you're wrong about that.
if you drink poison and survive
you shouldn't drink more when you're recovering!

can you tell that the muscles in my stomach feel like they're going to rip!?
BECAUSE I CAN!

wanna know what else went on in my head last night!?
i tried to kill myself with an irukandji
and it was hilarious
because i didn't die
or writhe in pain.
it just stung a little for a second
before i slipped in to the water with the transparent shell of jell
and let it drag me with it's tiny body
to a cave in the bottom of the ocean floor.
my ears really did bleed then.

have i truly turned in to a Babirusa?
because whenever I see my reflection
that's the only thing i can see.

i want shoved back in that machine.
whenever i walk, i really can't breathe.
my heart pounds like a bass drum with a diameter of 70 feet.
nobody will believe me when i tell them it feels like i'm going to die.

tell me love,

have i broadened your mind?
i don't care.
so long as it's been broadened.

opinions can't stay all yours
if you ever say them aloud.
but that's ok.
because wanting them to be yours alone is selfish.

and if there's one thing i advocate
it's selflessness.

my biggest fear is to be the opposite.
and my biggest fear is arrogance.

some nights
you're very existence makes me want to cry.

my sweet sweet mama.
you didn't deserve this.

falling over on the couch
sleeping upright because you're just so goddamn tired.
you poor precious woman.
i just wish i could give you all the love and thanks you deserve.
i wish you were my child
so i could cradle you in my arms
and rock you
and make everything go away.

i hate how you let me hurt you.
i wish you wouldn't look at me with those saddened tree trunk eyes.
i want to trace every worry line on your face
and to kiss them away.
you're so fragile, and you're so helpless and I'm so sorry I've done all those terrible things.

you've seen your babies hurt too much.
at the hands of others
and at the hands of themselves.

and i feel guilty when i talk to you
and you lend your ear to me
so i can spew the venom in my head.

you poor thing-
it's not what you need.
if anything
you need to spew some of that venom in yours.

your whole life,
you've been what i'm becomming to so many;

an ear.

and you're one of the only ears i have-
but to whom do you talk?

sometimes
you look so entirely lonely
but you're so incredibly amazing and kind
and you're the most amazing woman i know.

i want to make it stop more for you than for anyone else. if i wasn't so scared... i could finish this sentence.

what if i'm never brave enough?
what if it kills me?

if there's one thing i want to live for
it's to ensure that you never have to see
another baby girl of yours die.
i'm sorry.

i'm so sorry.
to all of you. for everything.

NONE OF THAT

MEANS ANYTHING.

dont take me seriousley

and i won't take you seriously
because no one's serious
and its seriously saddening
to feel so sorrowfully selfish
in my own little solitude
of attempted self solidification and complaints

i feel like writing about how i feel like killing myself right now.
but i'm tired of it! and i don't know why i feel so terrible!
--but it pisses me off even more
how much of a fucking atypical asshole it makes me!

because being a teenager is wrong.
and being a human is wrong.
and thinking that being a human is wrong.
and liking that im a human is wrong.

because, well, everything like that is fucking wrong in my head.

the only thing i don't get mad at
is other people.

for whatever reason
i'm ok that they're human.
i think they're sweet, and precious
and simple, and misunderstood.

but what;
do i think im fucking better?

now that is fucking wrong.
im not better.
nor should i be.
is this just fucking striving for something? is that the problem?

is that why
you'll comment me
and try to explain to me
and enlighten me
because i threaten you?
because you think you know what's going on inside of my, or anybody else's head?
because you think that you're more intelligent and experienced?
because you're striving for something too?

nobody is as helpful to yourself as you are
and no one can enlighten you as much
because you're the only one who's ever lived your life
and taken things in the order they've come

there are so many circumstances
that make a different mind

and i can't talk down to you
or think down about you
or assume anything about you

even though i want too



exactly the same is impossible.
but fundamentally the same unavoidable.

Square

striving for something is necessary
i know.
you can't get anywhere in life if the pathway dissipates in to oblivion.
and if you can't get anywhere, and you can't go back,
then you're not doing anything
and you get restless
and you starve your brain of intellect and enlightenment, and fulfillment, and happiness.

there are so many fundamental flaws in human nature.
but the things that usually break us are always the things that make us.

empathy isn't a common trait, because it would make life so much more difficult if everybody felt it as intensely
there would be more internal struggles.
more moral conundrums and blockages, and clashes.

but on the other hand
maybe- not all of the time but some of the time-
people would choose to be nicer to each other more.

and all the fragile people of the world wouldn't have to let themselves be shattered
by someone who makes them feel inadequate.

even then, though
the problem is the striving part of us.
because we can't help it;
comparing ourselves to other people.
because we need to want to continue to get better
and they help us see that we can be more

but can't we have goals
and strive for something
without putting ourselves down?

thank you your grace

im sorry im sorry im sorry
im sorry im sorry im sorry
im sorry.


that's the only thing i can think
to say.
my gums are throbbing
i love my cat so much right now
i think i could cry.

They Work So Hard

and i flush it all away.

i need a job
and fast.

i can't take away your money anymore.
you need it to survive
and I'm throwing so much of it away.


my head hurts so bad.

Is gentleness too much for us?

Some days
I really just don't have the stomach to be alive.

I want to take everyone-
EVERYONE
in the whole entire world
and hug them.

Including the people
who are the most mean to others.
Especially them, actually.

Because today, all I want to do is cry.
My head doesn't feel right. It feels like my brain is upside down
and I can't make myself want to do anything
besides going out
and finding everybody who's ever had someone make fun of them
and draping myself over them in fucking tears.

Most of the time, people are good.

But there I days I wish we weren't people
so we could be always good
but then i guess
we wouldn't be as complex or interesting or unique.

This blog is stupid.
I'm stupid.
I hate hockey.
I hate you.
And I wish you'd do something terrible to me so I'd have a legitimate reason.
It's too bad Im' just like her.

I CAN'T

Relax.
Last night when I was laying in my bed
all I kept feeling was like bugs were crawling all over me
and even though
ever time i felt a tickle
i'd checked

whenever I got another
I couldn't help but feel a little panicky.
And when I finally got to sleep
it was the most disturbing thing ever, because some woman was drilling some holes in to my head
and then shoving needles in to my neck
only to turn around and pound them in with a hammer.

all to get my hair cut
which she trimmed entirely too short
leaving me scared because i thought I'd have to walk around with holes in my head
but when my father finally showed to pick me up, he told me it looked nice
and the next thing i knew
i was in some fucking crazy futuristic looking metro station or something, passing lights, and going through weird tunnels, and arriving at the platform that was indicative of something I'd imagine one would see in Japan.

Sometimes, before i go to sleep
I start to hear voices too.
In my head, that just come out of no where whenever I don't feel like I'm even thinking.
and most of the time, I really like them because there are times when they say things in such a soft dean martin like voice that i could really just listen to forever.

and im sure it's just me slipping in and out of a sleep state or something
or my brain processing what's been going on throughout the day
even though I feel entirely conscious
at least i know i'm not crazy.
But i really wish I could just stay there in that state forever some days.
So I could hear the voice of someone
who isn't challenging me with their own opinions
and so I don't feel compelled to make anyone else understand or take on mine.

I don't feel good today.
Not physically, but mentally.
I'm tired of waking up with no goddam patience.
and never knowing why.
I'm tired of being under constant scrutiny

and of everything being counterproductive.
i'm tired of indecision
and I want to run the hell away
even though eventually my brain would catch up with me
at least maybe I could have a little escape.

I don't want people to make my life difficult for me
because life is so fucking simple
and really
that's why I don't usually want to be around anyone
because I care too much about them
and it's just too fucking draining
to have to try to figure out
how to make others happy
and yourself happy
both individually
AND simultaneously.

Not to mention the fact that
nine times out of ten
my conscience gets in the way
and i end up being the miserable one just because I feel bad about making someone else feel miserable.
And I don't care what anybody says
when I have certain standard that I hold myself too
nobody can convince me to abandon it.
which is neither a good or bad thing. it just is. and it's unarguable.
i can't be a bad girl.
because i don't want to be.
but that doesn't mean i can't have fun.

and see
the thing that sucks about this whole entire post
is that there's a good chance
someone will take it personally.
someone will warp it to be all about themselves when its not about anybody in particular at all.
so even when im sitting here
just sifting through the crap in my head
and trying to get it out in some form of organization
I still have to think
"WHAT IF SOMEONE TAKES THIS PERSONALLY!?"

if i could remember how to private this i would.
but i know a lot of people don't read this anyway
and its a place where no one can pick it up off of the floor in my room.
so it's going here with the knowledge that it's meant for me.
and if people read it
then so be it.
it's not like anyone can actually understand what ANYONE is thinking at ANY given moment any way.

A girl

next to us at the Gas Station
made me want to cry today.

i wanted to give her a hug
and tell her i know how hard is.

i don't smoke.
i don't like it personally.
but i know why she does.
and i know why she bought everything she bought.

and i hate myself for it
but i'm jealous of her
even though i know
she probably doesn't even think she's worthy of anyone's jealousy.

i'm not fucking crazy.
but it sucks that everybody thinks i am.

what sucks even more
is that this is why i hate my human nature.
if i could just exist using knowledge
instead of instinct
this would't be a problem for me.
it wouldn't be a problem for anybody



ah well.
who cares.
at least today was ok all in all.
i missed a beautiful boy though.
and i wish i'd gone to the arts festival like he did.

Its been a lovely morning

IF ALIEN'S EXIST AND DRIVE AIRCRAFTS TO OUR PLANET
I HOPE THEY CHOOSE TO ABDUCT ME SOMEDAY

For the most part.

I rode my bike down to the thrift store today to take care of the cat's there.
Me and Ryan discussed hoping that when we became old women
we hoped our lives didn't revolve around cats
and that we wouldn't buy ugly pink shirts with obnoxious flowers on them, just because it's only a quarter.

Really it doesn't make sense for Ryan though.
Because he isn't a female, so that shouldn't be a problem.

Speaking of flowers
whenever i was little
i used to denounce the very idea and concept of flowers.
So today my mother was telling me about some bathing suits she saw in a window at macy's
and how she thought they'd look really cute on me
but then she saw they had flowers
so she knew i wouldn't wear them.
Now, there are two really adorable things about this.
One being that I really do like flowers now, because I think they look quaint, and elegant, and old, and indicative of a yellowing pattern found on an apron from the year 1940. Not to mention the fact that it always manages to blow my mind to think of such a thing forming out of something growing from the ground.

Additionally, it's really cute, that she thinks I could wear a bathing suit in general.

I'm not going to lie though, I thought it was sweet she's remembered all these years.

Anyways...
Today's a day where I can be comfortable in my own skin to an extent.
That is to say,
when I'm out in the sunshine,
and when i can buy diet soda and gum,
I can look around, and be fulfilled using my eyes.

So I'm suddenly not so concerned with trying to turn myself in a better person.
Because there's no guilt involved in admiring things that automatically make your heart flutter.

I'm sure if I wasn't so focues on turning myself in to a better person
it would happen automatically or some stupid shit like that.
I know all the tricks of the trade
and all the truth filled garbage sayings that everybody pukes in to their children's bodies.

I understand all the damn contradictions,
and the reasons,
and when I pose questions
usually I have a pretty good idea of an answer in my head.

It's just that I don't believe any of it.
There are too many possibilities to settle on one wise epiphany
so I prefer to keep Epiphany plentiful,
so one day,
I can carry them around on rosary beads
that I've changed from representing god
to representing possibility.

I don't like the idea of a god.

Really, I don't.
I mean I do to an extent.
Like, I like the god I think of when I look at the sky
and I imagine he's giving us a gift by making the sun shine through the clouds.
And I like the god I think of
that sees us all as precious.
But sometimes, religion in all
seems too unnecessarily certain to me
not to mention the fact
that the god in so many religions, seems sort of deviant and deceptive
and out to make us show how really terrible we are compared to him.

I want to be a good person because in my eyes
when we look at where we are the in the grand scheme of things
the idea of the human population is just so damned precious, and adorable, and naive.
(REDUNDANCY)
And we're all just operating the way we were programmed.

So really
the only way to make sure more people have less of that pain of being unhappy
is treat everybody really spectacularly.

Not so I can get in to heaven.
Not because people are made in God's image and likeness.

But just because .

I'm not saying I think religion is a terrible thing.
I mean, some people need the idea of a God.
Which isn't good, or bad, or smart, or stupid or anything.
It's just something they need to help them get through life in peace.
Hell
In all honestly, a part of me hopes he's real.

But there are other people out there
that can be ok with the idea of incomprehensible things.
Like everything
always just being
without ever being created.

The only reason it seems so far fetched
is because on earth
it isn't possible.
But in the grand scheme of existence,
earth is just one tiny little minuscule portion of existence.
So who's to say what could and couldn't be anywhere else?

Perhaps someone. Perhaps no one.

This whole thing is making me remember a quote I once read.
"I don't try to imagine a personal god; it suffices to stand in awe at the structure of the world, insofar as it allows our inadequate senses to appreciate it." -Albert Einstein

Albert Einstein used to be one of the people I hated most.
Or rather
I hated the idea of what I thought he was.

Just some man comming up with man made information using man made words to describe the way the world could be.
I hated how he called Atoms, Atoms,
and how he called Protons, Protons
like it was indisputable.

I don't dispute that what they call Atoms exist.
But what are they really?
Just something we decided to name Atoms.
Do we know what they're made of? Well we can see what they're made of theoretically.
But what are protons and neutrons, and electrons?

Hell

what are rocks, and sediment, and sand, and coal, and leaves, and dark matter, and gravity??

All we really know
is that they are I suppose.
Or maybe we do know more.
Maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe I'm right.
Maybe both statements are wrong.
Maybe both are right.

But the thing is,
that's why
I used to hate the idea of Albert Einstein.
Before I discovered that he actually had something of a philisophical mind.

I came across that quote
when I was looking for something to help me describe my beliefs.
And now I think it's safe to say
that Albert Einstein
though one's typical idea of a logical scientist
was very open minded indeed.

I'm boring myself now.
Or rather, I'm just getting tired of trying to put my thoughts in to words.
Arevoi.




I've figured out why I hate human nature by the way;
Human nature is what's keeping my curse tied around my tummy.
Human nature is what's keeping my destruction
Human nature is what's making me want to perfect the imperfections I recognize that everybody has.
That's why I hate human nature.
Because it overrides any knowledge I might have
and forces me
in to a state irrevocable dissatisfaction
which ultimately
ties me down to an hour glass
who's space for dropping sand
is a little bigger
than it should have been.

I don't want to blog anymore

I'm selfish with my feelings and thoughts
and I only want to share them
with people who can't comprehend them
so I stay smarter than all of you.
because i'm just the same as the rest of the world.

i'm a human being
and i want to be something
and it's disgusting.

why can't i just stop trying to BE something to myself.
why can't i just like myself without working towards anything?
why does it piss me off when i feel like people take my ideas
and write them as their own.

STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT.
THEY'RE NOT YOURS YOU STUPID GIRLS.
THEY'RE FUCKING MINE BUT EVERYBODY WHO READS WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY WILL THINK THAT YOU'RE THE ENLIGHTENED ONE, WHEN REALLY YOU'RE ONLY ENLIGHTENED BECAUSE YOU THINK I AM.

and im not.
nobody fucking it.
jesus christ, i don't want to care.
i'm so arrogant.
arrogance is disgusting.
it's foul.
it's decay, and sin, and shit.
even though shit doesn't exist.

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
right wrong, nothing is
FUCK nothing, isn't.
REDUNDANT

I shouldn't let you make me want to KILL YOU.
I shouldn't let you make me want to see you dead.
Because you're nothing.
You're just a stupid person.
And people are only significant because WE'RE people.
Human Nature.
REDUNDANT.

But I do fucking hate you.
I hate anybody who thinks they have the right to something without earning it. REDUNDANT.
ARROGANT=ME. I don't fucking want to be.
I can't decipher when I am, and when I'm not.
I can't decipher anything about myself. Because logic may or may not be useful.
REDUNDANT REDUNDANT REDUNDANT.
Miranda, nothing is, because you never know, if any of it can be deciphered. Why?
BECAUSE ALL YOU HAVE IS LOGIC AND EVEN THIS ISN'T RIGHT OR WRONG BECAUSE YOU'RE COMMING TO THE CONCLUSION USING LOGIC.

Ms. Anderson

used the word cacophony
and reminded me of this sort of poem i wrote about a week ago
that i keep meaning to put up here
but i never do.
honestly though, it was really one of my favorites.
because i just wrote everything that came in to my head
and it all came in this really unconscious stream of unorganized anger.
________________________________________________

AHAHAHA
fucking hysterical laughter
my cacophony of reason
just big words
or lack there of
so I must puke them.
I don't worry, be impressed
so I'll impress
my impressive impressionability.
You don't love me,
I'm a lyer and my waste is all of carpet dust
and rags
once soaked in cherries
to look like blood
cause i'm dramatic and throw tantrums at myself
& i deny that I'm not from a fucking cylinder that fell out of the sky
oh I'm no better than some margarin
I'm more butter on your moldy bread,
not less intoxicating than wine,
but more interesting;
Oh, no I'm not
but I could try
to be like a fucking blade of grass
but even then the wind would blow
& I would dance, & turn to shit
or vomit
in your kitties tummy
because at least i'd be something
oh want something- you have too.
What's wrong with it?
You lyer, oh, I'd love to pinch your cheeks between some scissors
till theres holes there bleeding through staining red all your teeth,
so you can be different
because you just can't accept that you're not just doing it
to drink yourself in to a coma.
Why does that bother you puddle? Do you have the way
you rose like all the moons around uranus?
oh miranda, oh miranda, rising moon of uranus, you're so silly, cause
you're just not
above what you know.
fucking keep writing
until your hand snaps off
so maybe you could conclude
in a way
that didn't make you admit
to caring about insignificance
to being pathetic
& like a parasite underneath you rotting flesh
that smells
and hate the way
you can't know yourself
you can't be shit
without being wrong
you can't not be shit
without being wrong
wrong
right
nothing is
fuck, nothing isn't.

_____________________________________________________

Note: All "you"s in the poem
was referring to me
like i was talking to myself.
just didn't want it to seem like i was yelling at other people.

3, Wed

I adore how the week's correlating with the date this week.
The first was Monday
The second was Tuesday
and today
the third
is Wednesday.

I was talking to my mommy the other day
and I told her that I think
that weeks should be more equivalent.
Like, two days at work, two days at home, two days at work, two days at home.
Because at the end of the first day, you'd already be through the week
and by the time you started really hating it
it would be over

for as many days as it was on
and it wouldn't be as bad.

but then we sort of started to pick it apart.
because a lot of work might go unfinished.
and there'd have to be 8 days in a week
otherwise
we couldn't keep track of days using days of the week
so basically it'd have to be
Monday Tuesday: On, Wednesday Thursday: Off, Friday Saturday: On, Sunday Monday: On, Tuesday Wednesday: Off.
So like, there wouldn't be any continuity..

Because the third day of the week is always Wednesday
so there'd have to be a whole new week created
if we wanted to keep the continuity.

and that would screw so much up.
like meetings scheduled, and dates, and Friday special, and lent, and weeks in a year.

It really pretty much sucks.
because things have to be set in their ways.
if we changed it
the whole world would be all bent out of shape.

I'm having one of those days where, 8 out of 10 things in existence
are managing to piss me off. As a result, all I feel like doing right now, is complaining.
I mean, actually, I feel like beating my head repeatedly off of a brick wall, and punching something until my knuckles are good and bloody.
But since that's not an option, complaining is pretty much all I have left.

Honestly, I don't even know why the hell I get like this.
I hate complaining so much. IT makes me feel petty, and shallow, and self centered, and like anyone who talks to me will see me as nothing but a complete and total downer.

Which is why instead of complaining around anybody else, I'm gonna write on here, where at least
anyone reading my complaints
will know I really regret feeling like I need to do so.

So anyways
I woke up
very angry this morning
simply because
I had to wake up.
I mean, that really pissed me off.
I opened my eyes, and all I could think was how wrong it was for us earth dwellers
to repeatedly ignore our body's indignation at having to awake, before a real rest is truely achieved.
It made me want to be a cave man again.
Not that I was ever a cave man before, but I've wanted to be a caveman before.

Because even though I'd be dirty
it's not like I'd know the difference.
And I could sleep however long I wanted, and I could go out and explore the lands
and I might actually have a chance at discovering something.
Which would be exciting- something that pretty much anybody could use more of.

Holy shit, I don't know why, but suddenly this whole blog is making me so FUCKING ANGRY.

Ugh, that's exactly the thing that I'm talking about.
I get these really weird moments of illegitimate enragement
and sometimes they can be really violent,
but usually they're not as common as they've been this past weekend.
I don't really know what my problem is.
It's not that anything in particular is pissing me off
it's just that my patience is really short fused.

What it feels like is some sort of PMS actually.
But technically that's not really possible, because I only got off of my period like, a week ago, tops.
And my recent rise in anger has only appeared on about Saturday, and Sunday.

Additionally, however
I also feel particularly repulsive looking. That is to say, if by chance
a mirror is available, and I happen to see myself in it
I often
want to throw a serious hissy fit.
Like, beating my legs, and stomach style

And it makes me feel really bad, because I just want to be in a goddam good mood.
I'm tired of it seeming like I'm constantly miserable.
I swear, if the world could juts see me outside of the prohibitive boundaries of man-made existential requirements
they would see an entirely different person.
When my heart is open, and swollen in enlightenment, with new experiences, and beautiful things-
it really does show.

I've already established that boundaries drive me nuts.
That I need to be able to fucking dissapere when I start to feel bored, or empty.
But if I can't, then the most I can be whilst in class
is neutral.
Even though
what I really want to be
is chipper
and excited
and bubbly and obnoxious.

Some days I can manage it.
But on the days I can't, I always feel really bad.
And inadeqate. Like, If other people can manage it on a daily basis, I should be able to too.
And it's not that I'm miserable in school.
It's just that I'm not excitable, or bouncy.
Which is really just more fun to be.
Not only for me, but for the people I enjoy being around.

That's why I'm ranting on here today.
So I can try harder to be bubbly
after I get all of my inhibiting thoughts out
in order to validate them
but not dwell on them for the rest of the day.

I don't want to want to punch somebody if they're not moving fast enough to suit me.
I don't want to want to yell at everybody in the room to please just shut the fuck up.
I don't want to want to complain about anything and everything that comes to mind.
I want my lack excitement to manifest itself in a more accepting way
as opposed to a wallowing way.

Because, more or less, my complaining is out of habit.
And it's exhausting, I'm sure, for just about anybody involved.

On the other hand, there are times, that my complaints are really founded.
For example
I keep burping up this really disgusting concoction of acidic omelet mixed with strawberry lemonade fit and active juice. So that's annoying.
Plus
I've had vertigo
for the past three days
so my eyes keep jerking off to the right whenever I move my head
so it's making me really dizzy, and I have no idea what it is that's causing it.

But in the case of like
"this table's stickkky D:!"
i could really back down.
And i could also not mention that I'm experiencing vertigo
because another thing people seem to think
is that I'm constantly sick
which isn't really accurate.
I just experience discomfort a lot
and I never fail to let the world know.
Because I'm so bothered by little things, like my knees hurting, or my head pounding,
that it just keeps pulsating in my head
leaving me with only "my head hurts" to say.
Which let's face it, isn't very interesting.

I guess when it comes down to it though
I'm not as bad as I could be.
At least I'm not obnoxious about it.
At least I don't complain about things
just to piss someone off
or just because
I don't like something that someone's doing.

It's a really fine line I think.
Because if someone's like, screweing with you
then sure
complaints are fine.
But if say, a teacher is using a computer to highlight/underling things
and she's not that great at it
I'm not bitchy enough
or rude enough
or arrogant enough to shout out
about how
"DAT MAKE IT HARDER TO READ"

i can't stand arrogance.
but on some really ironic plane, i think it's partially my own arrogance that makes me hate it.
Like if someone thinks they have the right to something
without doing anything to deserve them
I want to teach them a fucking lesson.
I want to destroy them until they're crying, and saying they're sorry,
and telling me I'm right, and that they're wrong.

I guess it's just another thing about me that makes me sick.
I just want to be able to ignore those people.
To laugh at them, because they're so off base.
I want to apply the knowledge that
people vary
and that they're
just being themselves.
Instead of being a hypocrite,
in my quest to be a good person.

In life, everything always ends up contradicting itself.
That's why you can't ever try for anything, because irony'll come out of no where to do something
that'll make it impossible. Or wrong in your eyes.
People say you should try to be the change you want to see.
But by doing that, you could technically it could really lead to arrogance.
And you could just end up thinking highly of yourself
when the very action of thinking high of yourself, makes you think low of yourself.
I myself, don't think highly of myself. I try to fix and head off all of the contradictions in my head and to be a nice person, and to be understanding, and compassionate, and empathetic everybody I can be.
Because even if I don't like how people act sometimes, everybody's got something going on inside.
But I'm afraid that focusing so much on teaching MYSELF to be nice to others
somehow makes me selfish.
Like I'm thinking about myself too much.
But I'm afraid that the fact that I'm thinking about myself to make other people happy
isn't enough to excuse the focus on me.

I've lost track of continunity at this point
and now, I'm basically just writing every contradiction, and corner my mind makes.
If i continue, I'll never be able to stop.
I just don't want to linger on this all day.
So i'm going to cut myself off, and forbid myself from thinking about it anymore.
I'm off to do silly things in financial literacy.