Painted faces and outlined smiles.
It is around 4 in the morning. I'm sipping on white milk. Cold, instead of warm; I do not suffer from insomnia, so I do not need aids to help me sleep. I slept too much in the day, that's all. The smell of milk is sour and foul. I think I'm beginning to resent it. The condition of my skin has definitely gotten worse due to days of sleeping, just before the sun rises. It is not agitating anymore, I rarely leave the house anyway. So I just sit here, back slightly bent, and my fingers orderly knock on each key on my black keyboard, in attempts to express my unspoken thoughts. Now, something for you to read, but in no obligation to care--at all.
I think I have been a severe addict of online journaling since my Freshman year. I have been to numerous journaling sites, but ended up with LiveJournal anyway. I've heard many complaints as of why I have a tendency to switch journals in a short period time. Experienced epiphany; I will explain why.
It has to deal with the idea of various aliases. Each journal provides a new beginning, and new memories. It is not until the past becomes unbearable that I find an escape through running away from my past words, however virtual.. but will suffice to an extent. Have you ever wanted to move to a different place, where nobody knows even your name? Where you can become somebody else, somebody unfamiliar and new and exciting? It is for that desire I skip from one journal to another.
Truth is: nobody recognizes me as xserious. Truth is, I am a clown with a soul, demented. I write here, because this is my inner voice. I rarely do speak in a serious tone. This is what I choose not to display in real life, among real people. I do this, for this side of me contradicts too greatly with how people know me; it just seems ridiculous to me. Have you gotten the meaning of my username yet? X, serious. Bullet, serious, is how I represent myself--my alias. Cross, serious, is who I am. I am but an average school girl who makes goofy jokes and takes lightly of attention-demanding situations. It is nice to know it is only a click away in building a new me. However, horrifying to know I have become so weak to only want to conceal discontentness, instead of trying to make better of it.
Amnesia plays a fairly important part in this process as well. Forgetfulness has always been kind to a lost mind. Though as of now, I'd rather remember, so I'd know I am also capable to absorb knowledge through obstacles.