Deservation.
I think it is about time that I am due back to LiveJournal. Ah yes, the good old eljay. I've missed it for a while and I need to find a way to get used to the computer again so why not spill all my intellectual shit out on all of your faces.
Things are changing...fast. Life is getting vague just as it is beginning to become clear. One day I feel like I'm learning and won't ever stop then crash, reality creeps back and slaps me in the face and I'm dragged into stress, mainly from school, but it sucks. I don't let it show much but stress eats me.
It is so strange coming back to this thing and venting on it when that is one thing that used to piss me off the most. Why the hell should you have to write down every single fucking problem for the world to see? Why should everyone else take on your bad trip? I really don't know but at the moment I feel like it's one of the best things to do.
Is it really venting though, or is it maybe something deeper? Could I be trying to find some thoughts to share from my cerebrum to my fingers to the keys to the screen as I read each letter as it appears instantly with my simultaneality of consciousness. Am I trying to digress completely into other feelings, greater than anything else to cover over my pacing thoughts.
Thinking is a hard thing to keep up with, truely. It takes one with great care for running from realm to realm, racing the impulse of a thought to the tips of your fingers and back. In that one tiny instant, if you focus, you can realize just how fast your body's self electricity really can travel. It's almost as if no time passes at all. Does it?
I once knew a man who could run around the world six times in the amount of time it took a penny dropped from my hand to the cold bloody ground beneath my feet. Everyone thought his speed was a blessing but he knew it was nothing but a curse. Yes he could race past everyone without delay, even run across water because his pace was like that of lighting. Some even said they saw him hovering as he zoomed past.
Anyways, so this man can move like electricity and beat the tick of a second in a race around the first sixtyeth of the turn of a clock but he hates it. He couldn't control it, no matter how slow he moved, time didn't follow his lead. He could never be on the same page as everyone else. It's a shame a being that fast should stay cooped up in an institution like that. His mind is captivity enough. I always do wonder, though, if the medicine used to help him really does any good.
Hopefully the visuals are worth it at least.
Well LiveJournal, I'm back. Let you not forget it.
Things are changing...fast. Life is getting vague just as it is beginning to become clear. One day I feel like I'm learning and won't ever stop then crash, reality creeps back and slaps me in the face and I'm dragged into stress, mainly from school, but it sucks. I don't let it show much but stress eats me.
It is so strange coming back to this thing and venting on it when that is one thing that used to piss me off the most. Why the hell should you have to write down every single fucking problem for the world to see? Why should everyone else take on your bad trip? I really don't know but at the moment I feel like it's one of the best things to do.
Is it really venting though, or is it maybe something deeper? Could I be trying to find some thoughts to share from my cerebrum to my fingers to the keys to the screen as I read each letter as it appears instantly with my simultaneality of consciousness. Am I trying to digress completely into other feelings, greater than anything else to cover over my pacing thoughts.
Thinking is a hard thing to keep up with, truely. It takes one with great care for running from realm to realm, racing the impulse of a thought to the tips of your fingers and back. In that one tiny instant, if you focus, you can realize just how fast your body's self electricity really can travel. It's almost as if no time passes at all. Does it?
I once knew a man who could run around the world six times in the amount of time it took a penny dropped from my hand to the cold bloody ground beneath my feet. Everyone thought his speed was a blessing but he knew it was nothing but a curse. Yes he could race past everyone without delay, even run across water because his pace was like that of lighting. Some even said they saw him hovering as he zoomed past.
Anyways, so this man can move like electricity and beat the tick of a second in a race around the first sixtyeth of the turn of a clock but he hates it. He couldn't control it, no matter how slow he moved, time didn't follow his lead. He could never be on the same page as everyone else. It's a shame a being that fast should stay cooped up in an institution like that. His mind is captivity enough. I always do wonder, though, if the medicine used to help him really does any good.
Hopefully the visuals are worth it at least.
Well LiveJournal, I'm back. Let you not forget it.