Drama and Lies
Just got back from the Atlantic DramaFest of 2008, and had a lot of fun. For the most part. No event is ever content in just being fun. There always needs to be some dramatic event that puts you off for the next few hours. But that's past. Which is a good thing.
See what I mean, when I say I don't update my journal all too often. I'm too busy living offline, or with schoolwork, or drawing, or being a gamer... Hahah, what? Yeah, I know it seems like I'm always online. I usually check in at least a couple times a week at night, to catch any messages from friends and relatives. Doesn't everyone do that? No? Oh... well. Okay, so I'm not that busy living offline. But I am busy graduating in about a month.
One thing I do want to do, though, is type up a silly excerpt of my physical journal (not of the digital sorts.) No one really reads through my LJ, anyhow. Doesn't scare me to post my random junk.
You don't really have to read it, either. It's mostly just a bunch of things I write down whenever I feel like writing. If I feel the need to express an idea or opinion, then so be it.
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Lies
You know... as much as I love the saying, I still know that trusting in such a... condition could make me a bad person. I'm already a bad person for ever following it, or using it for my own gain or situational benefit... Sometimes I'm sorry I ever learned how to do it. How anyone could come to experience, and adapt to it. It's deceitful and... just plain wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
It all starts with that little... thing. A thing that you find that you can stretch and almost touch. Nearly tangible. Because it becomes real to you, as you shape it into what you can see it becoming. You can make it fit into every sense, and if you become more professional with it, you find it a benefit to view it as something doubtful. You can make yourself someone else, (because that comes along with the whole deal) and look over it for flaws, because it's real now. You can see it, touch it, remember it. It's part of your mind now, and no one can tell you otherwise.
At this point, it becomes somewhat of an obsession. But it's good to reassure myself that I can still pull back. Though these things have become real now, I can deconstruct them, just like I built them. From nothing. But from everything. Like propaganda.
And what a perfect word. Smooths everything out, more finely than the softest, most expensive silk, once you've mastered the-
I can't call it an art. Painting is an art. Writing is an art. What I'm talking about... is a disease.
But I recover from it, whenever I feel the post-fever begin, (metaphorically speaking... but you knew that) I stop and realize what I could become.
Some people cannot cure themselves. This is when the things that you have created become everything. Even life. And sometimes that can make you a bad person. Really bad. And sometimes you can't come away, or decipher between reality and creations. And then it's too late when you've realized you have nothing at all.
So... as a child (I still--and always will--consider myself one, until I learn the truth of right and wrong, and how to correct without biased thoughts) I tell you that I am afraid of the things that I have created. I've given these sacreligious things to my family and to my friends, to the ones I love and those I despise. But it's wrong all over. And I am sorry.
But not yet. Not until I can unmake the things made real by my pompous, selfish and greedy little ind. And fix them back. Pry away the fake, deceitfully beautiful (but-oh-so ugly) exterior, layer by layer, and leave nothing behind but the truth.
'Cause... "it's not a lie if you believe it."
So stop believing it. (Lord, I never thought I'd ever say that in my life.)
-Nikki VanderBurg
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So if you've read that or not, I just like to go on, and ramble. And often, there really isn't that strong a theme in these things. It just looks more serious than it actually is. I am in no way an amazing writer. I draw better than I write. So don't expect any prime work here. I've said it before, and will many more times.
Anyways. I think I'm done here. I might update with what I did these past three days at DramaFest, but later... Right now I'm hungry. Yep.
See what I mean, when I say I don't update my journal all too often. I'm too busy living offline, or with schoolwork, or drawing, or being a gamer... Hahah, what? Yeah, I know it seems like I'm always online. I usually check in at least a couple times a week at night, to catch any messages from friends and relatives. Doesn't everyone do that? No? Oh... well. Okay, so I'm not that busy living offline. But I am busy graduating in about a month.
One thing I do want to do, though, is type up a silly excerpt of my physical journal (not of the digital sorts.) No one really reads through my LJ, anyhow. Doesn't scare me to post my random junk.
You don't really have to read it, either. It's mostly just a bunch of things I write down whenever I feel like writing. If I feel the need to express an idea or opinion, then so be it.
-+-
Lies
You know... as much as I love the saying, I still know that trusting in such a... condition could make me a bad person. I'm already a bad person for ever following it, or using it for my own gain or situational benefit... Sometimes I'm sorry I ever learned how to do it. How anyone could come to experience, and adapt to it. It's deceitful and... just plain wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
It all starts with that little... thing. A thing that you find that you can stretch and almost touch. Nearly tangible. Because it becomes real to you, as you shape it into what you can see it becoming. You can make it fit into every sense, and if you become more professional with it, you find it a benefit to view it as something doubtful. You can make yourself someone else, (because that comes along with the whole deal) and look over it for flaws, because it's real now. You can see it, touch it, remember it. It's part of your mind now, and no one can tell you otherwise.
At this point, it becomes somewhat of an obsession. But it's good to reassure myself that I can still pull back. Though these things have become real now, I can deconstruct them, just like I built them. From nothing. But from everything. Like propaganda.
And what a perfect word. Smooths everything out, more finely than the softest, most expensive silk, once you've mastered the-
I can't call it an art. Painting is an art. Writing is an art. What I'm talking about... is a disease.
But I recover from it, whenever I feel the post-fever begin, (metaphorically speaking... but you knew that) I stop and realize what I could become.
Some people cannot cure themselves. This is when the things that you have created become everything. Even life. And sometimes that can make you a bad person. Really bad. And sometimes you can't come away, or decipher between reality and creations. And then it's too late when you've realized you have nothing at all.
So... as a child (I still--and always will--consider myself one, until I learn the truth of right and wrong, and how to correct without biased thoughts) I tell you that I am afraid of the things that I have created. I've given these sacreligious things to my family and to my friends, to the ones I love and those I despise. But it's wrong all over. And I am sorry.
But not yet. Not until I can unmake the things made real by my pompous, selfish and greedy little ind. And fix them back. Pry away the fake, deceitfully beautiful (but-oh-so ugly) exterior, layer by layer, and leave nothing behind but the truth.
'Cause... "it's not a lie if you believe it."
So stop believing it. (Lord, I never thought I'd ever say that in my life.)
-Nikki VanderBurg
-+-
So if you've read that or not, I just like to go on, and ramble. And often, there really isn't that strong a theme in these things. It just looks more serious than it actually is. I am in no way an amazing writer. I draw better than I write. So don't expect any prime work here. I've said it before, and will many more times.
Anyways. I think I'm done here. I might update with what I did these past three days at DramaFest, but later... Right now I'm hungry. Yep.