"Breathe, breathe in the air, don't be afraid to care. . "
I'm longing for something, and I'm not quite sure what it is. sometimes, it's the end of life. sometimes, it's the end of the day. sometimes, it's for love. sometimes, it's to not be me. but, this time, it's not suicidal. I dunno, I'm just, I'm incomplete. but i can function and live and breathe and die just like this and still be michael. it's hard to explain.
i'm bloody tired right now, so consider that the update. I've got to post something now that I noticed while looking at the infamous dj's. harhar.
I am: longing for something or other.
I am not: a good person, but I tried my damndest.
I hurt: with the full impact of emotions whenever I trek out into the world. but sometimes kids, hurt is beautiful.
I love: nothing.
I hate: myself. it's progress to admit it, right?
I fear: so much, it's hard to narrow down. but, probably, living. yeah. I fear living.
I hope: to be successful, and matter to someone. i.e. a lover, mate, bf, significant other, whatever you wanna call it.
I hear: people constantly bitching just so they can clutter the air with "conversation."
I crave: the cock.
I regret: the first 15 years of my life. If only I knew then, but I know now. . .
I cry: internally, if at all. my father yelled that out of me. my last good crying session was April 21st, 2002.
I care: about nothing. but I can pretend, and if caught in the moment, I do care.
I always: stick my foot in my mouth.
I long: for someone, to be dead, to be skinner, to like myself, to stop longing, for answers. . .etc, etc, etc . ..
I feel alone: everyday of my life.
I listen: to no one, not even myself.
I hide: from the world, from all humans, myself included. some walls never come down.
I drive: a motorcoach, with a permit. :D
I dance: when happy, or listening to blondie or the ramones. yeah. good times. :D
I write: pseudo-intellectual, pretentious rubbish I pass off as poetry, in addition to this journal, in addition to my hand-written journal, in addition to the spoken lines of my daily act. because, well, all the world is a stage. . .
I play: with myself. with others. but when playing with others, it's not in a sexual sense.
I miss: everything. go, right now goddamn you, and find a copy of catcher in the rye. read the last 2 lines of the novel. yeah, that's what I miss. enough said.
I search: for answers to questions that were never posed. I search for meaning to this life and come up with nothing.
I learn: what I am explicitly taught and not much else.
I feel: the colours of the emotional spectrum.
I know: I am human, and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does. and, whatever else is stored in my brain.
I say: whatever is automated and fits.
I succeed: in what I want to. but I'm not successful, yet.
I fail: at life, at being a friend, at being a mensch, and having high self-esteem, at being Michael. and, yeah. etc, etc.
I dream: whenever I'm conscious.
I wonder: about whatever matters most at that moment.
I want: to be someone, to matter, to actually do something. to have not just been here because my mother was pregnant, but to cause a ripple in the pond of water.
I have: material possessions which don't amount to a hill of beans, and thoughts that are fragments that won't matter when I'm dead.
I give: what I can, but compassion I'm usually lacking in. :D
I fell: into every trap possible, particularly the one labeled life. gotta love that one.
I fight: everyone and everything. I'm bloody argumentative, and will look for any way or shape to keep a conflict of some sort going. go me!
I wait: for answers, for that someone, for the end of life, for tomorrow, for today, for yesterday. I wait without waiting.
I need: to have better self-esteem, to work on my problems, to have more backbone, and yeah.
i'm bloody tired right now, so consider that the update. I've got to post something now that I noticed while looking at the infamous dj's. harhar.
I am: longing for something or other.
I am not: a good person, but I tried my damndest.
I hurt: with the full impact of emotions whenever I trek out into the world. but sometimes kids, hurt is beautiful.
I love: nothing.
I hate: myself. it's progress to admit it, right?
I fear: so much, it's hard to narrow down. but, probably, living. yeah. I fear living.
I hope: to be successful, and matter to someone. i.e. a lover, mate, bf, significant other, whatever you wanna call it.
I hear: people constantly bitching just so they can clutter the air with "conversation."
I crave: the cock.
I regret: the first 15 years of my life. If only I knew then, but I know now. . .
I cry: internally, if at all. my father yelled that out of me. my last good crying session was April 21st, 2002.
I care: about nothing. but I can pretend, and if caught in the moment, I do care.
I always: stick my foot in my mouth.
I long: for someone, to be dead, to be skinner, to like myself, to stop longing, for answers. . .etc, etc, etc . ..
I feel alone: everyday of my life.
I listen: to no one, not even myself.
I hide: from the world, from all humans, myself included. some walls never come down.
I drive: a motorcoach, with a permit. :D
I dance: when happy, or listening to blondie or the ramones. yeah. good times. :D
I write: pseudo-intellectual, pretentious rubbish I pass off as poetry, in addition to this journal, in addition to my hand-written journal, in addition to the spoken lines of my daily act. because, well, all the world is a stage. . .
I play: with myself. with others. but when playing with others, it's not in a sexual sense.
I miss: everything. go, right now goddamn you, and find a copy of catcher in the rye. read the last 2 lines of the novel. yeah, that's what I miss. enough said.
I search: for answers to questions that were never posed. I search for meaning to this life and come up with nothing.
I learn: what I am explicitly taught and not much else.
I feel: the colours of the emotional spectrum.
I know: I am human, and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does. and, whatever else is stored in my brain.
I say: whatever is automated and fits.
I succeed: in what I want to. but I'm not successful, yet.
I fail: at life, at being a friend, at being a mensch, and having high self-esteem, at being Michael. and, yeah. etc, etc.
I dream: whenever I'm conscious.
I wonder: about whatever matters most at that moment.
I want: to be someone, to matter, to actually do something. to have not just been here because my mother was pregnant, but to cause a ripple in the pond of water.
I have: material possessions which don't amount to a hill of beans, and thoughts that are fragments that won't matter when I'm dead.
I give: what I can, but compassion I'm usually lacking in. :D
I fell: into every trap possible, particularly the one labeled life. gotta love that one.
I fight: everyone and everything. I'm bloody argumentative, and will look for any way or shape to keep a conflict of some sort going. go me!
I wait: for answers, for that someone, for the end of life, for tomorrow, for today, for yesterday. I wait without waiting.
I need: to have better self-esteem, to work on my problems, to have more backbone, and yeah.