John A. Johnny.
Hello all my wonderful friends! I've been thinking a bit, and reading a bit, too.
Let's play a game. Raise your hand if you're either A. Dying, B. Failing, C. Your cat got hit by a car-ing, D. being teased relentlessly, or E. not friends with me. If you answered none of the above, then you have no reason to be so sad all the time.
My brain hurts, a little. Alot. My brain hurts alot.
The day before yesterday, I was sitting in my bed at about 10:00 pm. I was on the phone with a friend, and we were chatting for a bit, then he went to bed and I was left alone. But that's okay. Nowadays, typically, when I've got nothing better to do I write. I don't write well, but it gets the point across. I was tired, it was about 11 when I got off the phone. I don't remember anything after that. I woke up the next day, went to school, came home, did nothing. A few hours later I opened my notebook to write a little bit. There, on the pages, 11 to be exact, was what I'd written the night before after I got off the phone. Which is fairly puzzling, because I don't remember writing any of it. But there it was, 11 whole pages full from top to bottom of writing. I checked the date, September 19, 2005. Yeah, today was September 20. I began to read over it. Nothing seemed familiar. I still don't remember writing any of it. I can't tell you what half of it means anyway. 11 pages of nonsense. Choppy sentences, mixmatched paragraphs, letters written to people I don't know, pages dated before I was even born. It's all rather baffling. I'm not sure what to think about all this.
September 19, 2005.
I still say you're. ####. The nice part of Baker. I could disagree with you. (then follows a drawing of a fish with sharp teeth, and a big fin on it's back.) He's patiently explained it to me, sometimes, I wonder, if my problems have originated elsewhere. She skinned her knee and sirens. There was no gauze, no medicine. I'd like to scream "help", just for her. it would do no good. Fortunately I got the better half of that tree. Did you know the Florist terrorized? Ist. Should I alert the choir? I don't think I will. She looks cute laying there, in front of that big picture. it's not even facing her. she's got nothing to look at. No, eyes are closed. She's looking on the inside. Did you know that the tops of pyraminds are black? Yes, I painted them that way. That woman ziplocked my islands away. I bet she'll put them in an attic, awaiting execution. it won't be my attic. Darkskinned, at the time. Why is that little girl wearing a colar? Maybe it's not even a little girl. It's a lawnmower. (finally, something that makes sense! Leah might understand this! anyway, continue...) They have the same function. Imaginate it. Oh, the lawnmower's gone. On all fours, she seems to have walked away. Everything is a triangle, but some are more creative than others. I don't think I want to be a triangle anymore. I can do it. Don't help. "she used to dance," he told the tree. Let's hope I get so tall- Don't touch! If I'm to do this. We. -No! I. Must be very careful. It's full of knives, he taught. I'm not shivering, it's only cold, my dear. That's why the pins won't fall down. This is what it's like. Heaven. You know, it's only my backyard. Don't you miss her? That's all you can spare. Please, forgive your adversaries, they mean you no. Wanted: 292 people. Sometimes the ceiling falls on me. No, it dissolved. Heaven, I mean. It all started with the tree. He shouldn't have let me do it. I can't get past the ledges. Someone tell those banisters to stop. Broad day, no, not I. Knot eye. They're only veins. And fingers. and skin. The style and placement of the articles matter. He left. I'm still here. He shouldn't have let me do it. tall enough indeed, that's nonsense. Some called it a submarine. That's not for me. I get my relationships on the run. Except that one time. No, that one time is over. I should do the same. I can't even get down. No, you can't help me. He was taller, you know. Couldn't them get me down? You shouldn't even try, trust me. Can't do it, I said. Don't you listen? He would have. If I fall, close your eyes. Tight. Just ask the children. Nothing, no. Not anymore at least. Congratulations, go home now. Oh, oh. I never loved you, either. Either. No, not either. I'm wrong again. (skip a few lines) Didn't catch me. She did it myself. Yes, I did. the trees were no help. You didn't catch me. No, that was my doing. I willed it. It's because of the 5th. "Lies." Of course not, lies. It's not possible. It didn't even happen. You couldn't(underlined)have caught me. I know it. it's not a matter of strength. Quick, put your arms around me. I'll show you, this is how it's supposed to go. (then there's a rough looking sketch of something that looks like an airplane, with propellers on one end, and something shooting out of the back of it, or front, I'm not sure which is which. There's smoke coming out of it.)
Then there is more nonsense... I skipped a few lines...
"5 seconds" he pleaded. (skip 2 lines)
Nothing, or light shine? Check back, again. Nothing, no. (skip a few lines)
Gloves. (then I drew another fish with a mohawk glaring across the page at a girl I drew on the other side. She's wearing a big suit, with no shoes.)
(in the margins) You're diff. (could mean different or difficult) to talk to, 9:59.
Anyway, you get the idea. THere's pages and pages of stuff like that. Then towards the end there's some pages where I wrote like, letters, to people I don't know, the pages are dated like November 1, 1985, ect. I won't get into what they say, it'd take too long.
Either way...
Let's play a game. Raise your hand if you're either A. Dying, B. Failing, C. Your cat got hit by a car-ing, D. being teased relentlessly, or E. not friends with me. If you answered none of the above, then you have no reason to be so sad all the time.
My brain hurts, a little. Alot. My brain hurts alot.
The day before yesterday, I was sitting in my bed at about 10:00 pm. I was on the phone with a friend, and we were chatting for a bit, then he went to bed and I was left alone. But that's okay. Nowadays, typically, when I've got nothing better to do I write. I don't write well, but it gets the point across. I was tired, it was about 11 when I got off the phone. I don't remember anything after that. I woke up the next day, went to school, came home, did nothing. A few hours later I opened my notebook to write a little bit. There, on the pages, 11 to be exact, was what I'd written the night before after I got off the phone. Which is fairly puzzling, because I don't remember writing any of it. But there it was, 11 whole pages full from top to bottom of writing. I checked the date, September 19, 2005. Yeah, today was September 20. I began to read over it. Nothing seemed familiar. I still don't remember writing any of it. I can't tell you what half of it means anyway. 11 pages of nonsense. Choppy sentences, mixmatched paragraphs, letters written to people I don't know, pages dated before I was even born. It's all rather baffling. I'm not sure what to think about all this.
September 19, 2005.
I still say you're. ####. The nice part of Baker. I could disagree with you. (then follows a drawing of a fish with sharp teeth, and a big fin on it's back.) He's patiently explained it to me, sometimes, I wonder, if my problems have originated elsewhere. She skinned her knee and sirens. There was no gauze, no medicine. I'd like to scream "help", just for her. it would do no good. Fortunately I got the better half of that tree. Did you know the Florist terrorized? Ist. Should I alert the choir? I don't think I will. She looks cute laying there, in front of that big picture. it's not even facing her. she's got nothing to look at. No, eyes are closed. She's looking on the inside. Did you know that the tops of pyraminds are black? Yes, I painted them that way. That woman ziplocked my islands away. I bet she'll put them in an attic, awaiting execution. it won't be my attic. Darkskinned, at the time. Why is that little girl wearing a colar? Maybe it's not even a little girl. It's a lawnmower. (finally, something that makes sense! Leah might understand this! anyway, continue...) They have the same function. Imaginate it. Oh, the lawnmower's gone. On all fours, she seems to have walked away. Everything is a triangle, but some are more creative than others. I don't think I want to be a triangle anymore. I can do it. Don't help. "she used to dance," he told the tree. Let's hope I get so tall- Don't touch! If I'm to do this. We. -No! I. Must be very careful. It's full of knives, he taught. I'm not shivering, it's only cold, my dear. That's why the pins won't fall down. This is what it's like. Heaven. You know, it's only my backyard. Don't you miss her? That's all you can spare. Please, forgive your adversaries, they mean you no. Wanted: 292 people. Sometimes the ceiling falls on me. No, it dissolved. Heaven, I mean. It all started with the tree. He shouldn't have let me do it. I can't get past the ledges. Someone tell those banisters to stop. Broad day, no, not I. Knot eye. They're only veins. And fingers. and skin. The style and placement of the articles matter. He left. I'm still here. He shouldn't have let me do it. tall enough indeed, that's nonsense. Some called it a submarine. That's not for me. I get my relationships on the run. Except that one time. No, that one time is over. I should do the same. I can't even get down. No, you can't help me. He was taller, you know. Couldn't them get me down? You shouldn't even try, trust me. Can't do it, I said. Don't you listen? He would have. If I fall, close your eyes. Tight. Just ask the children. Nothing, no. Not anymore at least. Congratulations, go home now. Oh, oh. I never loved you, either. Either. No, not either. I'm wrong again. (skip a few lines) Didn't catch me. She did it myself. Yes, I did. the trees were no help. You didn't catch me. No, that was my doing. I willed it. It's because of the 5th. "Lies." Of course not, lies. It's not possible. It didn't even happen. You couldn't(underlined)have caught me. I know it. it's not a matter of strength. Quick, put your arms around me. I'll show you, this is how it's supposed to go. (then there's a rough looking sketch of something that looks like an airplane, with propellers on one end, and something shooting out of the back of it, or front, I'm not sure which is which. There's smoke coming out of it.)
Then there is more nonsense... I skipped a few lines...
"5 seconds" he pleaded. (skip 2 lines)
Nothing, or light shine? Check back, again. Nothing, no. (skip a few lines)
Gloves. (then I drew another fish with a mohawk glaring across the page at a girl I drew on the other side. She's wearing a big suit, with no shoes.)
(in the margins) You're diff. (could mean different or difficult) to talk to, 9:59.
Anyway, you get the idea. THere's pages and pages of stuff like that. Then towards the end there's some pages where I wrote like, letters, to people I don't know, the pages are dated like November 1, 1985, ect. I won't get into what they say, it'd take too long.
Either way...