(no subject)
When your eyes occasionally roll backwards, they can sometimes get a good look at your own inner musings and how you're using them.
When i think about it, im in a pure state of mind. The sort of state of mind that reminds me of driving unsafetly at night with the windows rolled down, hearing about how other people thought their alloted fate was just as sugar-coated and unrealistic as mine. The times when I talked about the disillusionment of women like I actually knew what I was talking about, when I talked about meeting the sort of borderline fem/masculine composite that resembled the me i'd like to be. Its that pure state of mind knowing that that's already come and passed, and perhaps will come again, that renders all else irrelevant next to the fact that its already happened. The best parts, the most idealized lifestyle where you don't really exist except to make an exhibitionist asshole out of yourself, to talk endlessly without really hearing yourself, and to never let anyone see your true face. To play along until someone calls you on it, which I guess is what happens when you truly love someone. These songs have stacked up, and I'm not sure which one's have significance to me alone and which one's belong to her as well, yet it always seems like they say the things I could never come up with when I needed them. We had our environment set up, the plastic cooking stove, the door half ajar as if welcoming people always inside, our over-sized bodies incapable of fitting with the scale of the places we encountered. I'm not myself, I'm not myself.
How am I not myself?
I'm tasting bobbypins in my mouth and I'm not sure how they got there.
When i think about it, im in a pure state of mind. The sort of state of mind that reminds me of driving unsafetly at night with the windows rolled down, hearing about how other people thought their alloted fate was just as sugar-coated and unrealistic as mine. The times when I talked about the disillusionment of women like I actually knew what I was talking about, when I talked about meeting the sort of borderline fem/masculine composite that resembled the me i'd like to be. Its that pure state of mind knowing that that's already come and passed, and perhaps will come again, that renders all else irrelevant next to the fact that its already happened. The best parts, the most idealized lifestyle where you don't really exist except to make an exhibitionist asshole out of yourself, to talk endlessly without really hearing yourself, and to never let anyone see your true face. To play along until someone calls you on it, which I guess is what happens when you truly love someone. These songs have stacked up, and I'm not sure which one's have significance to me alone and which one's belong to her as well, yet it always seems like they say the things I could never come up with when I needed them. We had our environment set up, the plastic cooking stove, the door half ajar as if welcoming people always inside, our over-sized bodies incapable of fitting with the scale of the places we encountered. I'm not myself, I'm not myself.
How am I not myself?
I'm tasting bobbypins in my mouth and I'm not sure how they got there.