Under Coercion
It's been a while, and Brianna has threatened to de-friend me if I don't post. So, here I go.
This is another sort that I would suggest skipping over.
It seems like I'm getting "those times" again. The ones where I start over-thinking everything, and so spend half my time in melancholy, and another quarter venting at everyone and everything. Those making pie charts, that's another quarter in a state of ">Bad".Subdivide that quarter as you see fit, but I would recommend using the word "snazzy".
An aspect of my current state is my near obsession with music. There are a few bands that cradle and fuel this state, and even some of the most upbeat seem to just continue the cycle. Steve Burns and I are getting along far too well for my best interest. I end up in a state of just running the line "Have you ever been so tired of yourself?" over and again. That and the Jukebox song "Hold It In" are both very well suited to my brainscape at the moment.
Yes. I used "brainscape." Deal with it.
Every now and then, as I scour my room for bits and fragments, I come across a note. I never was one for the shoebox technique of love note storage. I just stashed them as available. Today, I was going through looking for a packet provided as a possible source for my English paper, and during the course, I found a paper peeking from behind a book on my shelf. I think "Ah! There is potential in that!" and draw it out.
It's not what I had hoped, I imagine that you've guessed. It was one of said love notes. I place it back, unsure of whether to read it or lit it ablaze. In the end, I read it. A poem. When I think about it from the outside perspective, it would be nearly laughable. I am not that perspective. To me, it's a somber realization that I have yet to actually feel for a person's self. I impose my will, I delude myself, and they had both become what I had molded from my view. I didn't change, and I didn't take them in. I "loved" the mask that I had shaped for them, but never them.
I can't say any more here.
There are times when I want to punch myself in the face for being pompous. This post is one of those times.
This is another sort that I would suggest skipping over.
It seems like I'm getting "those times" again. The ones where I start over-thinking everything, and so spend half my time in melancholy, and another quarter venting at everyone and everything. Those making pie charts, that's another quarter in a state of ">Bad".Subdivide that quarter as you see fit, but I would recommend using the word "snazzy".
An aspect of my current state is my near obsession with music. There are a few bands that cradle and fuel this state, and even some of the most upbeat seem to just continue the cycle. Steve Burns and I are getting along far too well for my best interest. I end up in a state of just running the line "Have you ever been so tired of yourself?" over and again. That and the Jukebox song "Hold It In" are both very well suited to my brainscape at the moment.
Yes. I used "brainscape." Deal with it.
Every now and then, as I scour my room for bits and fragments, I come across a note. I never was one for the shoebox technique of love note storage. I just stashed them as available. Today, I was going through looking for a packet provided as a possible source for my English paper, and during the course, I found a paper peeking from behind a book on my shelf. I think "Ah! There is potential in that!" and draw it out.
It's not what I had hoped, I imagine that you've guessed. It was one of said love notes. I place it back, unsure of whether to read it or lit it ablaze. In the end, I read it. A poem. When I think about it from the outside perspective, it would be nearly laughable. I am not that perspective. To me, it's a somber realization that I have yet to actually feel for a person's self. I impose my will, I delude myself, and they had both become what I had molded from my view. I didn't change, and I didn't take them in. I "loved" the mask that I had shaped for them, but never them.
I can't say any more here.
There are times when I want to punch myself in the face for being pompous. This post is one of those times.