(no subject)
I'm constantly trying to find ways to express my care and concern for other people in some way other than criticism. For every problem that seems to be offered into my knowledge, all I seem to do is talk about how pointless the pain is that my friends feel. The dents in my knuckles are reminding me just how little I understand people... perhaps "people" is inaccurate of my thoughts right now... "Lydia" suits it all so much better.
I understand that greed is a normal process of considering my own benifits, but I think I get agitated too easily and lose my temper when I feel like I've figured a person out and they justify my feelings every moment. Too cocky about myself, perhaps. I guess I got used to my name being called constantly, and began to rapidly boost my self-esteem. Self-esteem is a great thing to have... I just need to use it the right way.
Already, the mornings that I've slept in are beginning to become imaginary, only relivable two of seven days. One thing we could all appreciate and loath is the trait of adaptation... I don't mean physically as much as I mean emotionally. It's odd how I've already found school's working patterns, and have already gotten used to a routine to live by for the next year.
What I can't except is that routine becomes "normal", if not depressing.
No, no. Don't worry. Penguin isn't depressed... he should have always remember his escape.
From now to the end of the threat of routine, I will draw, and prove through 50 lb. acid-free blank paper (soon to be covered in .7mm lead and .005 ink shadowing) that I can always break out of a routine through creativity and imagination.
I understand that greed is a normal process of considering my own benifits, but I think I get agitated too easily and lose my temper when I feel like I've figured a person out and they justify my feelings every moment. Too cocky about myself, perhaps. I guess I got used to my name being called constantly, and began to rapidly boost my self-esteem. Self-esteem is a great thing to have... I just need to use it the right way.
Already, the mornings that I've slept in are beginning to become imaginary, only relivable two of seven days. One thing we could all appreciate and loath is the trait of adaptation... I don't mean physically as much as I mean emotionally. It's odd how I've already found school's working patterns, and have already gotten used to a routine to live by for the next year.
What I can't except is that routine becomes "normal", if not depressing.
No, no. Don't worry. Penguin isn't depressed... he should have always remember his escape.
From now to the end of the threat of routine, I will draw, and prove through 50 lb. acid-free blank paper (soon to be covered in .7mm lead and .005 ink shadowing) that I can always break out of a routine through creativity and imagination.