Pictureless Life
To whom it may concern:
I have set up this account fully expecting no one to read it. I just want to send out my thoughts out into the void, and if someone out there is propelled enough to read on, I commend you.
First Impressions: Completely over-rated and totally unjust. I live a life where "first impressions" are everything. They can either make you or break you. I have become immune to the fact that people must judge what they see, and even stereotype if necessary. It would be un fair to say that a first impression is of no significant importance because well lets face it... Reading a book with no cover would be a tad strange. Perhaps I am so utterly mind boggled because I have many personalittes that I allow to surface on regular basis, some of which I love more than others.
I like to think of my life as a jigsaw puzzle. There are many pieces, each one adding to the completion of a "Big Picture"... A picture that I can not comprehend... A picture that has no meaning yet... A picture where the colours have no names. The pieces to my puzzle are not ordinary. Each one is drastically different with no connection to one another, other than the sharp edges that click togeather every now and then. The connections end in enmity, for each piece opposes one another. Right now they must remain scattered... As I am a walking contradiction, with a picture-less life and three billion unanswered questions...
Much Love Dear Void
A.
"Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself."
-Franz Kafka
I have set up this account fully expecting no one to read it. I just want to send out my thoughts out into the void, and if someone out there is propelled enough to read on, I commend you.
First Impressions: Completely over-rated and totally unjust. I live a life where "first impressions" are everything. They can either make you or break you. I have become immune to the fact that people must judge what they see, and even stereotype if necessary. It would be un fair to say that a first impression is of no significant importance because well lets face it... Reading a book with no cover would be a tad strange. Perhaps I am so utterly mind boggled because I have many personalittes that I allow to surface on regular basis, some of which I love more than others.
I like to think of my life as a jigsaw puzzle. There are many pieces, each one adding to the completion of a "Big Picture"... A picture that I can not comprehend... A picture that has no meaning yet... A picture where the colours have no names. The pieces to my puzzle are not ordinary. Each one is drastically different with no connection to one another, other than the sharp edges that click togeather every now and then. The connections end in enmity, for each piece opposes one another. Right now they must remain scattered... As I am a walking contradiction, with a picture-less life and three billion unanswered questions...
Much Love Dear Void
A.
"Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself."
-Franz Kafka