she's like a new disease, still too young to treat
I feel really little today. A small person with no control, and I'm guessing that's stemming from the lecture I'm sitting in right now. My professor is talking about Rousseau and the social contract right now and how we are all just part of society and without society, we aren't people. The very idea of that scares me. I imagine myself floating in space and never knowing what a society was-- what would I be? What would I think?
I was standing at the entrance of the bar last night, leaning against a post and smoking a cigarette. I was shivering uncontrollably as I hadn't gotten used to the cold yet after being inside...and then all of a sudden the shivering just stopped. And I was completely still, smoke swirling in front of my face and I felt frozen. Like time was standing still. Obviously it wasn't, there were people coming and going, but I wasn't seeing them properly. They all looked the same, adorned with scarves and hats, a blurry mass of winter attire moving in frozen time. A living oxymoron, and the ridiculousness of it snapped me out of my daze. Chilled to the bone.
I was a turquoise sweater and red earrings. That's all I was.
I have to write a short story for my creative writing class. It's due today and I haven't even started, and that's because I don't know where to start. I have been so wrapped up in the way I feel for the past few days that I'm having trouble creating a character. I don't want her to be me; I don't want to write about how I feel. When I write about how I feel, I like to do it in the hopes that it will help me in some way. And somehow I don't think that seeing me painted onto a page in words will help me at all. That's like looking into a mirror, but not being able to avoid the adjectives because they're necessary for the image.
"Remember it all, every insult, every tear. Tattoo it on the inside of your mind. In life, knowledge of poisons is essential. I've told you, nobody becomes an artist unless they have to." -Janet Fitch
I think that, while in all reality it's extremely depressing, it's almost comical how mistaken you can be about what's in your own best interest. How utterly impervious to misconception. It's the tragic flaw of humanity I think, it's what makes us vulnerable. And consistently doing the opposite of right. Constantly questioning right and therefore stripping the very word of its own definition. A big question mark is what right has turned into...there is no conformity among the masses. And we all hurt.
cheers darlin'
you give me three cigarettes to smoke my tears away