more often than not

May 18, 2008 20:33

i really dont like being a social person.. i have always found my best output in my life has been on a screen, for the world to read. im outgoing to a few, friendly to many, shy to everyone. i hate this feeling called lust, and even more so love. its a convoluted feeling that runs through my veins without my permission.. my body craves it, my mind despises it. there are days where i feel that i would be "better off alone" . though i really feel that sometimes i want to make an impact upon this world.. i just dont know how to go about it. Making people laugh has always been a hobby, to see a smile on another human being has been my gift because not everyone is able to experience laughter on their own. making myself the center of laughter may sound selfish, but it has worked. though most of the time, i dont want you to know that there is more to me. i wont let you know more of me.. if im a multifaceted person, how would you know. i wouldnt dare turn the crystal to reflect the other colors. tending to fear judgement of others, locking myself away from the rest of the world, i observe, watching the movements, the study of patterns, involving myself in minimal activity. as much effort put into this journal entry, the pronouns "I" and "My" comes up often, because in reference to my life, this is written. Though its a despisable thought that runs through the mind of Z. always thinking of another way to refer to this entity, this product of flesh. some days thoughts run through my head how to amplify my creativity on how to execute the best works that can be produced from this room. the potential is unlimited, the social ambiguity is limitless, and disgusting at the same time. Realizing now how hard it is to not type those two pronouns and any form possible has become an interesting challenge, a game that has beeen created to see the potential of a human mind, how to trick the language barrier and helping you understand the point that is being conveyed this very night.

"The screaming crimson fell upon the body that night, as many onlookers gathered around the dress drenched in this pain. the face had already dimmed to a cold shade of diamond, the light relfecting the glitter on the face. though no tears were shed, the feeling upon this chilly night were very unlike the withering blossom lying on the ground."
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