daydreaming
So I stumbled across many many journal prompts in the past several minutes, and I figured I would give one a go. Of course, they are set up as consecutive days of the week, and each day you post that day's prompt, but I'm a dirty cheater so I picked one.
List all of the things that you should change about yourself, but have decided not to.
I haven't really looked into this much, but I feel it should be opened up, like a heart clogged with the many years of cholesterol deposits. Like a classic American literature that has sat in dusty box for years, only discovered when the owner of the book has long passed, and his belongings are up to exploration.
I am mentally weak, frail. I allow myself to sometimes be swept away by the waters of "what if" and my own tragic imagination. I sit around and imagine my life of how it should have gone, how I wanted it to go and when I finally make that descent back into reality, I realize my life is plain shit. I have done nothing with myself, I've scared away and hurt the few men that stuck around long enough to fall in love with me, and I'm living in a tin can with a couple of flea ridden cats.
The reason I haven't changed this about myself is that it allows me to dream, it keeps me going to imagine that any day now, Trent will pull up in the driveway and he'll knock on the door and want to talk about what happened between us, and then beg me back. I know he will not, he won't even talk to me in person... Why should I, in my wildest dreams, think for one second he is brave and mature enough to make such a move.
Even though this is kind of a bad personality trait, for my personal sanity at least, I hold onto it. No, I don't just sit around and imagine the men I've known and loved to somehow become entwined into my life again (I actually dread it), but I think about how the human race can once again become a respectable, admirable people. I think about bettering myself, and wondering what the future would be like if I went to college, if I moved off to a different place where no one knew my name. If I followed the dreams that have now just begun to haunt me in a very depressing sort of way. They linger around as a reminder that once upon a time I felt myself, once upon a time I had hope. Once upon a time I would wake up and want to get out of bed.
I've bounced around from ideas for the next rant, which won't take long at all... In June of 2008, I pierced my septum. Lately, after losing my retainer, and just about all of my septum rings, I am debating on taking it out and leaving it out. People around here are judgemental to the extreme. No one wants to take home Tina, with metal through a random part of her face, to their mother. No one wants to introduce the weirdo to their friends. But you know what? I have realized through all my thinking about something completely ridiculous that the people I want to be friends with and the person I want to be are all accepting of my body modification. No one cares, and if they do, then fuck em.
Over and out.
List all of the things that you should change about yourself, but have decided not to.
I haven't really looked into this much, but I feel it should be opened up, like a heart clogged with the many years of cholesterol deposits. Like a classic American literature that has sat in dusty box for years, only discovered when the owner of the book has long passed, and his belongings are up to exploration.
I am mentally weak, frail. I allow myself to sometimes be swept away by the waters of "what if" and my own tragic imagination. I sit around and imagine my life of how it should have gone, how I wanted it to go and when I finally make that descent back into reality, I realize my life is plain shit. I have done nothing with myself, I've scared away and hurt the few men that stuck around long enough to fall in love with me, and I'm living in a tin can with a couple of flea ridden cats.
The reason I haven't changed this about myself is that it allows me to dream, it keeps me going to imagine that any day now, Trent will pull up in the driveway and he'll knock on the door and want to talk about what happened between us, and then beg me back. I know he will not, he won't even talk to me in person... Why should I, in my wildest dreams, think for one second he is brave and mature enough to make such a move.
Even though this is kind of a bad personality trait, for my personal sanity at least, I hold onto it. No, I don't just sit around and imagine the men I've known and loved to somehow become entwined into my life again (I actually dread it), but I think about how the human race can once again become a respectable, admirable people. I think about bettering myself, and wondering what the future would be like if I went to college, if I moved off to a different place where no one knew my name. If I followed the dreams that have now just begun to haunt me in a very depressing sort of way. They linger around as a reminder that once upon a time I felt myself, once upon a time I had hope. Once upon a time I would wake up and want to get out of bed.
I've bounced around from ideas for the next rant, which won't take long at all... In June of 2008, I pierced my septum. Lately, after losing my retainer, and just about all of my septum rings, I am debating on taking it out and leaving it out. People around here are judgemental to the extreme. No one wants to take home Tina, with metal through a random part of her face, to their mother. No one wants to introduce the weirdo to their friends. But you know what? I have realized through all my thinking about something completely ridiculous that the people I want to be friends with and the person I want to be are all accepting of my body modification. No one cares, and if they do, then fuck em.
Over and out.