(no subject)
I wrote a few more paragraphs for my book. It might end up just being a short story because I don't know if I have enough things to write about to make it long enough for a book. I also put in a line from and Oasis song, but thats just because I was thinking about it at the time, and decided if I were to make that paragraph longer it would have something to do with the song. It is not a part of the text. That being said.. I feel like shit, and I'm going to sleep.
He had this ability to loose himself in his imagination for hours. He could be present in a room full of people, but exist solely in his own head. All sounds and conversations would drop away at his biding and color would drip in to fill the void. Occasionally there would be a mix of black and reds, but more often than not there would be color so eloquent and magnificent that words were not enough to explain its beauty. It had a hold on him; his imagination, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s just how he was, and that’s how he wanted to be, able to remove himself completely from reality and exist in the rainbows.
Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. Was it healthy for him to leave reality the way he did? It’s hard to say. He needed his imagination to help him cope, so let him have it. Get off his back would you? He doesn’t need you to judge him. He felt judged by everyone though, so what’s one more person.
“Slip inside the eye of your mind, don’t you know you might find, a better place to play”
He didn’t understand feelings. He didn’t understand how they worked or hoe to express them. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t control them and why he had to feel many of them. He just knew that he didn’t understand what they were all about. It’s not that he was stupid he was actually very intelligent. Its just feelings confused him, just the same as they do many people. He hated how they could change so easily. He hated how his emotions could get the best of him at times when he didn’t want them too. But most of all he hated that he couldn’t control them. Even if he focused all his energy, there where times when he couldn’t stop himself from getting angry. Even if he tried with all his might there were times when he couldn’t help but just break down and cry. There were always times when his emotions took control.
He didn’t like to show his feelings to people. In most cases it was for their benefit, but in some cases it was for his own. He wasn’t the type to show someone they made him sad to prevent them feeing bad in return. He wasn’t the type to show someone how he truly felt for fear of them knowing what went on in his head.
In reality he was a mystery, and that’s exactly how he wanted to be. He kept a journal, filled it randomly. The pages were full of thoughts, but thoughts that could only make sense to him. He altered names giving no one and no thing a distinct name to keep them unrecognizable to anyone else. The penmanship was sloppy, but the grammar never poor. Quite simply, it was intended that no one else would understand. They were his thoughts, his experiences, his dreams, his life; no one else’s.