In the past, my style has always been so passive. Loving, almost excruciating to read. I wish i could go back to that right now : go back to the style of writing that defines me as a person : to that style that the world recognizes. What happened?
It’s so difficult sometimes to not brush off somebody’s feelings as something stupid — however, I learned from the shorter end now that no matter how senseless the feelings seem, they’re still emotions. Simply because one person in the party perceives something doesn’t mean that the other person perceives the same thing. –And because of that, nothing that deals with emotions should be brushed off as stupid or inconsequential. THe truth is, no matter how silly the conclusion reached, if it’s enfused with feelings, it’s real at least in the sense that it’s truly causing damage.
A hard lesson for me to learn.
“You got way too much drama, girl”
That’s what a friend said to me. He’s right, though — and the best part of it is I create it for myself. It doesn’t matter though, because I’m a happy person and I can deal with it.
Most of the time. I swear, if Mike wasn’t there to stop me, I would have probably gouged out Alan’s eyes. I was that angry.
I can’t believe him and that little hussy had the nerve to make out in front of me. FUck
It seems my personal blog has become a fucking place to rip me up apart by the people I thought were my closest and dearest. This is the last place anyone I know would come to find me — so here’s a big FUCK YOU! to all of those who would mock me and all of those who think they know me just because they’ve read a few of my private posts. For once I will have a private sanctuary.
Extreme highs followed by extreme lows, exhaustion seeping through my veins as I wake up from a deep, dark sleep that at any other time would be refreshing. My happiness and depression knows no boundries as it skips across the thin thread of time pulling me along with it, holding me, pushing me away all at the same time. A collision of words and sounds and emotions swirls around me as I stop against the will of the current and attempt to sort out the different strands of nothingness.
To straighten out the confusion that has ensued in my head. To straighten out the shit that makes me so confused and tired. I fall, over and over, as if I never learned how to stand. I lean upon your shoulder, so comforting and strong. There should be no reason to be so upset, so scared with this here to catch me, yet at the same time I wonder if once again it is only a dream, an illusion of warmth, a farse.
Pessimism sticks to me like a shadow, gloominess looms over me like a cloud. Some days I can’t break free from this sadness, no matter how hard I try to smile. 
Hallucinations so palpable I could feel the wind on my face as the door opened. Echos that last for ages, only to pile upon each other. Amazing revelations, bursts of creativity that seemingly last for hours only to bring me back to the present — the moment of eternity gone — only to be known as a handful of seconds.
Eternity is best felt with the eyes closed.
I sat down next to a random person in Econ class today. I’ve never seen him in my life, and even if I have or will again I will probably never recognize him as the guy I once sat next to in class. At the same time, for an hour and half in time his fate was directly linked with mine. This thought came to mind when I looked around me and saw the smattering of empty seats around me.
Who was supposed to be in those seats? What if I was supposed to meet one of those people today and we just missed the opportunity because that person decided to ditch class?
It made me wonder if one of those empty seats would ever be a part of my life one day. What if one of the people who ditched class to day just happens to enter my life at some later time?
It’s the same thought that comes to mind when I sit down at an empty table — what if I had asked to sit down by the other lonley person sitting at a table only an arms length away? How many fateful meetings have I passed up?
Most of the ways that I meet people seem to be random coincidences — especially when there’s links to everybody everywhere [I can list dozens and dozens of unrelated links]. It’s like the six degrees of separation have gotten smaller.
[referring to prior entry] –
I wonder if that’s how truly insightful people feel when they read my journal. Probably. I make an effort to be insightful most of the time (I really do!), but there are just some of those days where I find myself just talking about what I did that day.
Why do I do it? Why do I say shit when there’s nothing to say? Mostly because I feel undeserving of the two-fifty/some odd uniques I get every day. I know I know, it’s nothing like Ernie’s 1200 or Rene’s 12,000… But the fact that I actually do have readers makes me feel conscious that this is a representation of me — and I feel the need to keep it well updated.
Sometimes I wonder if I should be like some people and only update when I truly feel like I want to express myself. — But then, I’d lose the hits.
Why do I even get any anyway? Is it because of the effort I make to make things interesting? Or is it because I have my cam image floating around the internet? AM I truly interesting? Or just randomly lucky to have the right people linking to me?
Probably the latter.
I realize I post a lot about posting. It’s just one of those subjects that pops into my mind a lot as I post. I always wonder to myself “why?”…. and then when I get over that, I think of the “what?”s. ^^*
hi i’m a boring girl with nothing really insightful to say. okay, wait, i take that back, i’m a dull girl with nothing really insightful to say. i know how to talk about my day and the things that are on the top of my head, but i’ll never go deeper than two layers by myself. its because i’m perfectly normal and i don’t really have any real problems, and i’ve never felt real sorrow, and i was never messed up as a kid.
or maybe i’m just stupid. let’s talk about my day some more. you know, the boring day that i’ve had in which nothing truly groundbreaking has really happened. like, i went to school today. oh wait, did i say school? i mean ‘skool’. yeah and i’m tired. and i’m sleepy. ooooo. pretty crazy, huh?
—
and every entry is like that. i’m going crazy. you would go crazy too.
It’s so difficult for me to have an audience nowadays? In the past it’s always been so easy to expose myself, to make myself known to all, and now that I have it — now that I’m recognized, now that I’m seen, now that I’m heard, now that I’m read… I’m not so sure I want it anymore?
Human nature is so fickle. Or maybe it’s just me. I’m going through that stage in my life when nothing seems to be right. I don’t try but I complain about how much I work. Everything is contradictory. I want to be intelligent but I feel stupid — at the same time I dumb myself down so that I look more innocent than I truly am.
I need an audience.
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