cant you read?
(im going to make the rest of the entries private but i just want to let this one sit out here for a while...)
i returned Sarah's call tonight and she brought up interesting point. She told me i sound like a different person in my writing. This journal has always been a sort of landfill for my darker thoughts and despairs. They're trapped on these pages now for a few reasons. i've always had that duality but it's always put people off.
i'm just as depressed as i am lighthearted. i'm just as serious as i am a joker. Half the time i would never hurt a fly but the other half of me wants to remind certain people what blood tastes like... the list goes on. There are things i hate about myself and i've decided that this is where they belong.
For me this string of letters stored away on some remote server collecting dust represents more than a series of events in an objective recollection of the events of my life. It's more like the letter you write an estranged lover to get rid of that lingering sadness she brings to your heart every time her name is mentioned.The sadness is only there because she made the time you spent together so great. The letter is always ridiculously skewed and overly emotional because it's the muddy waters of emotion breaking over the dam of logic and denial.
It's just as distorted and a thousand times more pathetic because it happens so often. As much as i love life sometimes it makes me wish the odds had favored another sperm. In my wiser moments i'm glad to have loved and lost, i know that people are essentially good and the world is full of possibility and potential. The little doubts i wish i could leave buried surface up and i try to turn them into prose and trap them on this page like flies on a web. It helps.
The more i read that over the more i realize it will probably only make sense to me. i guess what im trying to say is... i'm really not this sad, honestly. i save all the happy stuff for the real world, this is just lj land.
(this journal is for me and no one else now. no hard feelings, i just don't want it to cause anymore trouble.)
i returned Sarah's call tonight and she brought up interesting point. She told me i sound like a different person in my writing. This journal has always been a sort of landfill for my darker thoughts and despairs. They're trapped on these pages now for a few reasons. i've always had that duality but it's always put people off.
i'm just as depressed as i am lighthearted. i'm just as serious as i am a joker. Half the time i would never hurt a fly but the other half of me wants to remind certain people what blood tastes like... the list goes on. There are things i hate about myself and i've decided that this is where they belong.
For me this string of letters stored away on some remote server collecting dust represents more than a series of events in an objective recollection of the events of my life. It's more like the letter you write an estranged lover to get rid of that lingering sadness she brings to your heart every time her name is mentioned.The sadness is only there because she made the time you spent together so great. The letter is always ridiculously skewed and overly emotional because it's the muddy waters of emotion breaking over the dam of logic and denial.
It's just as distorted and a thousand times more pathetic because it happens so often. As much as i love life sometimes it makes me wish the odds had favored another sperm. In my wiser moments i'm glad to have loved and lost, i know that people are essentially good and the world is full of possibility and potential. The little doubts i wish i could leave buried surface up and i try to turn them into prose and trap them on this page like flies on a web. It helps.
The more i read that over the more i realize it will probably only make sense to me. i guess what im trying to say is... i'm really not this sad, honestly. i save all the happy stuff for the real world, this is just lj land.
(this journal is for me and no one else now. no hard feelings, i just don't want it to cause anymore trouble.)