|
|
Tuesday, March 20th, 2007
|
|
|
i feel like i have already lived my life. everyone around me seems to be happy & normal.
i will never meet anyone like me. because i'll never be able to figure anyone out. i can't say who i am, i just don't know how to describe it, but i can feel it. i haven't met anyone yet that sees things the way i do or feels as deeply about things. maybe its because i dont really ask anyone. i dont really care anyway. ive been so close so many times to just saying fuck it with this world and just leave forever. everything i am doing seems to lead up to one thing. yah i want to work at a job i like, but its still work, and i can make money and buy things to make myself feel better about the way i look, but if i'm alone whats the point. like getting really dressed up and not going anywhere and no one sees you. its wasted effort. i have a sinking feeling i will be alone for the rest of my life. i try so hard to open up but how can i expect anyone to like me if i dont always like myself. nothing comes out of my mouth the way i want. i'm never the center of anyones focus. every guy i have been with, i was never first. there was always someone else they wanted more. i learned to deal with it because i am on a different planet anyway. i can't do it anymore. i would rather be alone than put myself through that again. and the biggest problem is i dont know how to act and what to say and i will never know if i'm the first, people lie. i'm always afraid. i never wanted to get married and live for a long time, until this semester. but no matter the situation, if i care about someone, i will want to see them even if i am not their first girl. and i will be a mess because of it, but i can't give up someone that i want. if that happens again i am going to fight over the person i want. if i am happy i refuse to just let it go to another girl. because i want to be first. i want to be with someone i care about who wants me more than anyone else. i can't explain how i feel, its as if i'm 10 years older. because i don't know how to act i think i come off in a negative way. no boy i have cared about has ever made any effort to simply be nice to me, except for recently. i don't know how to react if someone is nice to me. i hope i dont come across as boring. most things i used to say i dont talk about anymore. noone is really listening. i know because i myself wouldnt listen. freshman year i cannot even believe how opposite i was then to what i am now. i don't write anymore. now i feel like, if i draw or write, it needs to be for some purpose, enjoyment isnt enough. i simultaneously want someone to read the stories i write, but that would mean the reader would be able to visualize what my mind is like, and i'm afraid to have someone see that deep into my personality.
i have to document everything. whenever i'm feeling like i'm not going to make it. its a timeline of my life, and how i am a completely different person each time.
nostalgia is powerful, and love is dangerous. and its reminiscent combination could be enough to send someone to an asylum.
|
|
Monday, December 4th, 2006
|
|
|
|
i am a mess, but im okay with it.
|
|
Monday, February 6th, 2006
|
|
|
dream or daydream
& also my roomate moved out.
i don't have a t.v. and i want to get some kind of amazing rug
i don't drink my tea red
|
|
Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
|
|
Sunday, October 9th, 2005
|
|
|
its easy for me to fall, like sort of slip into 'insanity'
i try to be an independent person and it would take little or no effort for me to go overboard.
i don't understand myself.
i know i should do this, should do that, but i dont
i can't ?
what is stopping me.
i had a really good moment today.
i am really happy.
i have completly let you go.
no more 'until i can't breathe anymore'
you pushed me, and i fell hard.
|
|
Wednesday, September 21st, 2005
|
|
|
I forgot how much I like sounds.
One sound in particular.
The ground has to have been wet, then hardened. Hard soil.
Dark & rich ground. Real, solid ground.
I like the sound my flip flops make on it. Its like a padding sound, a packing sound. I make my shoes eccentric when I tread on the soil to cause the sound to seem more intense. I feel like I am in some foreign, dewy and night country on some sort of mystical journey when I hear the packing sound of the soil.
|
|
|
the lightening is outside.
dream
running, hurry
wearing lng grey coat. my hair is long. walking & waiting at an underground train station. boston. waiting for someone to step out of the now parked train.
|
|
|
|
its all really coming now, the best and the worst and while trying to live the best it is so unbelievable it makes me not want to accept what could be even better or maybe worse who knows it goes on and it wont stop and i want to live until there is nothing else to live for and that will never happen because the moths on my garage can be a reason for me to want to breathe at this moment because my breath is taken away just by the feeling of me standing alone in the pavement of my driveway, thinking so hard it suffocates my mind so all i can even feel is the atmosphere of moths circling my aura and i'm barefoot and the tar is cold the sky is there for me and waiting for me to come into dark matter, to drift into myself to have that feeling of almost throwing up but it means something good, something overwhelming and special of being free of thought to be open like the feeling i get when i stare at a Dali masterpiece i just want to die if i cannot join the crying pigments i keep having that dream that dream where i can see but i cant see i walk through a door that leads to outside from a watercolor thick paint house the air is always paint i cant see myself i am not really there i can see someone in front of me but it is a sliver of a shadow and i don't know who it is and i have no thoughts but i am not following i am leading the person who is ahead why does it remind me of something so i snub off the moths and decide to lay down right outside and my hair sticks to my skin and makes me uncomfortable i can see the cliche stars and it drives me crazy i need to know and i want to invent new words without feeling like they were invented by me so how do i know if i created this world and i'm wondering of a trivial project and it is discouraging to desire putting some shapes on paper that you just cannot acheieve in the right way and its like a tick in your brain that wants to express and strains to understand that only i can know and believe and unshare and maybe i'm hiding something i dont know how to extract to whatever it is that i am living so we can be empty vessels when the definition of empty is extravegant passion & i could be so happy to be engrossed with the knowing and observing that when i watch and hear people be so unlike me it is frustrating that such obvious flaws no one knows they have when in fact flaws are just a technicality of the point in being unique so if each is unique which by obvious reasons they are then why are they all the same to me and i have met a few who arent and why would someone try to converse with me about that specific topic and say the same speech to another, while i over-hear ? i didnt really know that person, i met him yesterday and he tried to express his life story and dreams to me while i was folding jeans and i pretended to care because people say that to me and i believe there is one person who said a lot to me the first time i talked to them of whom i was infact interested to learn about so one day i will take about everything and i have all these ideas in my mind and if i sit and stare and do not speak i am thinking and just try to guess i could recite you a novel about the shape of a miniature chunk of gravel
|
|
|
wow, to update a livejournal.
how long has it been ?
last year.
|
|
Wednesday, June 2nd, 2004
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
dammitsara's journal