Mad in love with dry dead boys in the backs of abandoned cars
Christ, I'm tired. And stressed. And edging into the emo-line of life.
Resist, resist. I met freshmen today. They were very passionate about not having any rights. Which is odd. My freedom, my little individualism, my small pockets of resistance must remain and must grow in strength. Shame, really, that all it leads to is failed attempts to extricate myself from an argument that I'd prefer solved with not having, while trying to save a cause that matter svery little in the grand scheme. I don't know why I want it to succeed. Actually, I do, I lie. I want it to succeed not because I'm a particulary giving person. This must work for me. For me.
PLease tell me that deep down we're all selfish. 'Cause I don't want to be the only one.
Whatever happened to my intellect? Whatever happened to my core beliefs? They're inarticulate, strangling in a dense morass of language and second guessing. Whatever happened to my listening? I need to be able to listen and think at the same time, to be able to analyze quickly. I'm not the fastest cowboy. I just sit here with empty cans of coke and contemplate my own inadequacies.
Christ. What do I really want anymore? What does she really want? I don't know and I'm too scare of my own pride to find out. I hate embarassment. I don't take those risks. Besides, I could be have the wisdom of a god and still be ignorant of the ancient teenage ritual. Ancient human ritual. Anciet ritual.
Oh, what I wouldn't give to split in half and be whole again.
You know, I really do care about my intellectual image in far too many ways, I end up paralyzed or self-deprecating.
I will never make myself proud at this rate.
God, I want that show. I want that year. I want that fucking road trip. I want Europe, I want art, I want to save myself wihout divine intervention. Fuck god, I want to do it with my shreds of omnipotence, my wits, my brain, my hands.
I can't, though. They're no right, but if they were I'm damned. If they're not, I'm not damned, I'll simply be dead.
Which makes glory that much more vital. I hate it. I don't want to be trying to be on top. I don't want that to be my goal. But it seems like I'll never be satisfied if I'm not the greatest at the things I truly care about.
Maybe, in the end, I could teach. I'll have learnt.
Everything reminds me of some failure or another.
Until I'm distracted.
I really need a distraction. At least I got a rant.
If I could sing along in LJ, I'd be humming this riff I'm hearing.
Above is ultra-long emo entry. Feel welcome to ignore.
In other news, I don't know where we stand in revolution.
I also don't know where I stand in tests.
I want my three day-weekend.
[edit]There sure as hell better be beauty in this breakdown.[/edit]