no use for a name
inadaquacy
It's all I can do to describe this. Like I'm missing something, or I missed out on something. I never really explored my exterior past middle school. Because after that I latched on and let everyone else decide, if not directly, indirectly who I was. Let them mold me.
And maybe that is why I haven't written anything that I've like in a while. I keep writing for everyone else, hoping it will intellectual, and bring some sort of realization or feeling to them, when yes, writing is meant to inspire an emotion, a sense of wonder or growth, it's also my growth, and I have been cutting that off lately with societal bullshit. Interpersonal worries, and not left enough room for me. Crushing me and my growth. Pouring water on the weed instead of the rose.
I guess it's in my nature to please. I never grew out of that young adolescent stage of pleasing others. I never really said FUCK YOU to anyone. Who have I broken up with? Who? If my mother hadn't put a restraining order on Jose I would either be with him or he would have cheated. And look at last week. I never actually called Target and said "Screw this, I quit." I didn't have enough fucking strength, enough fucking confidence to let that out.
Letting everyone else take me and shape me and fuck me and suck me and what ever happend to self pleasure. Whatever happend to me writing because I wanted to write? Not so I could show everyone what kind of fucking writer I was or to prove I could think a certan way, be a certan way, but because I wanted to see who the fuck I was.
Fuck.
Thats all I have to say is fuck, because my brain can't really think of anything more articulate to descibe my life. Not that I have been particularly articulate tonight. I haven't been with a girl in a long time, and this wasn't exactly how I wanted to get back into the game. Fucking children. I need to get out of this. I can't exactly tell if I'm comfortable or if I'm...settling.
Inadaquate.
Not up to par. Unable to keep up.
swallowed his facade because im so eager to identify with soeone above the ground
soeone prepared to lead the way
someone prepared to die for me.
But no one really is. No one gives a fuck about you as much as you give a fuck about anything. Heh...maybe that came out wrong, but I don't feel like correcting myself. I think the thing that **** tried to teach me when ************************ was the most accurate and truthfull thing he could possibly instill in me. Don't rely on anyone, only yourself. People are fickle, and they can crumble, where would you be when that is done and over? Falling down with them into the unforgiving ocean. And if you don't hit the rocks on the way down then you'll probably drown or be eaten.
No one cares that much anymore to jump in after you.
I'm not exactly sure what I'm searching for, what I'm looking to be good at, if anything.
I think I'm just sick of lying in this stagnant puddle of a teenage life. Not that I am really looking forward to getting older and becomming "more" of an adult...heh, as if adult was measured by how many minutes you've wasted air.
I guess it makes some ammount of sense. Once you stop waisting air, you don't exactly grow. At least if you take an entirely ahthiests perspective. Then again in a buddhist or hindu sense if you actually manage to reach nirvana you've grown to your limit. Or the universes limit. Or the universes limit for you. Or no one can actually reach nirvana if your limit is matched with the universes and the universe is vast.
E X P A N D
Or else you can never reach it. Reaching nirvana through your body: The flexability of your body is a metaphore for the expansion of onese capabilities. If emotional manifests itself into mental, and mental manisfests itself into physical, theoretically you can reverse the proccess. Or meet it in the middle.
Like the snake eatings its tail.
It sounds self destructive after you get past the self achieved.
I hurt. I should sleep.
It's all I can do to describe this. Like I'm missing something, or I missed out on something. I never really explored my exterior past middle school. Because after that I latched on and let everyone else decide, if not directly, indirectly who I was. Let them mold me.
And maybe that is why I haven't written anything that I've like in a while. I keep writing for everyone else, hoping it will intellectual, and bring some sort of realization or feeling to them, when yes, writing is meant to inspire an emotion, a sense of wonder or growth, it's also my growth, and I have been cutting that off lately with societal bullshit. Interpersonal worries, and not left enough room for me. Crushing me and my growth. Pouring water on the weed instead of the rose.
I guess it's in my nature to please. I never grew out of that young adolescent stage of pleasing others. I never really said FUCK YOU to anyone. Who have I broken up with? Who? If my mother hadn't put a restraining order on Jose I would either be with him or he would have cheated. And look at last week. I never actually called Target and said "Screw this, I quit." I didn't have enough fucking strength, enough fucking confidence to let that out.
Letting everyone else take me and shape me and fuck me and suck me and what ever happend to self pleasure. Whatever happend to me writing because I wanted to write? Not so I could show everyone what kind of fucking writer I was or to prove I could think a certan way, be a certan way, but because I wanted to see who the fuck I was.
Fuck.
Thats all I have to say is fuck, because my brain can't really think of anything more articulate to descibe my life. Not that I have been particularly articulate tonight. I haven't been with a girl in a long time, and this wasn't exactly how I wanted to get back into the game. Fucking children. I need to get out of this. I can't exactly tell if I'm comfortable or if I'm...settling.
Inadaquate.
Not up to par. Unable to keep up.
swallowed his facade because im so eager to identify with soeone above the ground
soeone prepared to lead the way
someone prepared to die for me.
But no one really is. No one gives a fuck about you as much as you give a fuck about anything. Heh...maybe that came out wrong, but I don't feel like correcting myself. I think the thing that **** tried to teach me when ************************ was the most accurate and truthfull thing he could possibly instill in me. Don't rely on anyone, only yourself. People are fickle, and they can crumble, where would you be when that is done and over? Falling down with them into the unforgiving ocean. And if you don't hit the rocks on the way down then you'll probably drown or be eaten.
No one cares that much anymore to jump in after you.
I'm not exactly sure what I'm searching for, what I'm looking to be good at, if anything.
I think I'm just sick of lying in this stagnant puddle of a teenage life. Not that I am really looking forward to getting older and becomming "more" of an adult...heh, as if adult was measured by how many minutes you've wasted air.
I guess it makes some ammount of sense. Once you stop waisting air, you don't exactly grow. At least if you take an entirely ahthiests perspective. Then again in a buddhist or hindu sense if you actually manage to reach nirvana you've grown to your limit. Or the universes limit. Or the universes limit for you. Or no one can actually reach nirvana if your limit is matched with the universes and the universe is vast.
E X P A N D
Or else you can never reach it. Reaching nirvana through your body: The flexability of your body is a metaphore for the expansion of onese capabilities. If emotional manifests itself into mental, and mental manisfests itself into physical, theoretically you can reverse the proccess. Or meet it in the middle.
Like the snake eatings its tail.
It sounds self destructive after you get past the self achieved.
I hurt. I should sleep.