just thought the rosetta stone of my mind. everything is art. everything is inspiration. and all the pieces fell into place. i care about everything. everything is beautiful in so many ways it's incredible. (i thought for a while that since i cared about everything, that meant i cared about nothing) and yada yada yada. it's good to be back

I'm not really sure where to begin. I suppose i could start at the beginning, honestly this is shaping up to be another epiphany/story which evolves from my supposed sudden insights to a life I've chewed the gristle from. Yet this seems different, more acceptance than spark. I've lied my entire life, even to myself; of course i knew this, as ( Read more... )

So i don't entirely know where to go from here. i feel like a dog chasing his tail. I keep searching for something that's going to snap me out of this feeling, slap me and wake me up. Yesterday I actually dove into a freezing cold pool reciting some stupid mantra about being free. Another stupid fallacy, it's got my head spinning again. Which is ( Read more... )

since i've posted a journal entry. and in all honesty, an incredible amount of shit has happened to me, too much to really tell honestly, though looking back it would've been nice if i had had the mindset of recording the journey for future reference. i guess ill start at the present and work my way back ( Read more... )

i stayed home from school today to finish, well do my FTCAP, im going to pennstate after all XP. not too proud of it, but i feel kinda good to have decided the direction im gonna start heading in ( Read more... )

so i just remembered who i am supposed to be, who i want to be, who i am. i was talking about a friend of mine, and i said, "it makes me think hes got a stronger soul than me" and then i recalled what i am. what i loved about myself wasn't my intelligence, my potential, or if i could win in soccer or some sport. i didn't give a damn about making ( Read more... )

we used to lye awake and speak for hours ( Read more... )

i cant stand things anymore. my lifes surrounded by clutter, my shelves are heaped with books, my desks with notes, half legible scribbles of thought, as though saving them will make me a genius. as though keeping them will spark a fleeting memory of insight, real insight. all these notes are what my lifes worth at this point, in anyone elses hands ( Read more... )

Theres a man in a lonely room, within this cell of his own confinement there is nothing. Just blank walls and empty windows he always peers out. Small tiny windows, through which he can see glimpses of the human soul. Yes the human soul. Small worthless fragments of the same colour, because the longer he darts madly about to stare out said windows ( Read more... )

its funny how old this scene is, funny how it stirs nothing in me, funny how im the one whose numb ( Read more... )