11/09/12
11/27/2012 04:29 a.m.
Why am I so angry with you? Let's see, maybe it's because I think you're full of bull shit and you're a huge dick wad asshole liar pants that gets some sort of sick satisfaction out of messing with people just because he can. You torment me and I hate you for it. I hate myself too. For giving you this power over me. I hate that I still want to be with you despite your ridiculous Twitter account. I hate that Twitter has anything to do with anything concerning you and me. I really hate that I just wrote the phrase "you and me" because there is no you and me. I hate that despite seeming like you're talking about other girls on your Twitter account, I still believe that you're good. That your face in the moon and behind it a big gaseous ball of light and warmth exist large enough to shine through the dark. I hate that when I'm with you I see right past your murky outside behavior. I hate that I can't talk to you about it right now. I hate that if you read this your would probably hate me.

Comments (0)

10/15/12
11/27/2012 04:24 a.m.
Lately I've been talking to friends considering going into the arts and encouraging them. A few days ago I was in Caroline's room, oogling the posters that she had just gotten printed and hung around her room. I cannot tell you how many time I exclaimed to her "Oh my god, I love these". It was that uncomfortable excessive amount of enthusiasm that I seem to have a knack for. Some were pictures of icons like Tina Fey or Audrey Hepburn. Some had small little blurbs of encouraging words. There was one in particular that caught my interest. It was a white page with black font and a small little doodle of a face at the very bottom. It looked small enough and stark enough to look like a poem that would interest me. Instead it was a quote y Kurt Vonnegut:

"Go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower, dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. you will get an enormous reward. You will have created something."

This small blurb has stuck with me for days now. It has awakened something and relit a small flame of confidence somewhere inside me, a place previously unoccupied except for a hollow spot where fear makes its nest. It shook me. Enlightened this hope that the things I create are worthwhile. That they have an impact, even if it is just on myself. No not even if. Fuck that. Most importantly that they have an impact on me. I create because I feel moved to and like if I don't I might burst. This expression give me freedom, allowing my soul to grow. It's a wonderful revelation. Creation gives one a sense of pride, accomplishment, and power. Not in a greedy sense, but EMpowerment. Taking charge and giving yourself the tools you need to grow and expand. What really shook me about that quote was that if made me realize how much my life has been lacking this passion for creation. For a long time I've been lacking the urge to sit down and write a thought, any thought. Almost as if I felt like my words didn't have importance or weren't worthy of expression. Or even, more personally, like my emotions weren't worthy of expression because they weren't some concrete set of emotions. Lately I've been feeling a bit lost and muddled. Confused is probably the most accurate description. I'm confused almost all of the time. It is this hazy gray and muted set of emotions that just seem mediocre and unimportant, but that doesn't mean they aren't emotion. That they aren't worhty of being felt or documented just because they aren't concrete. I have thoughts and feelings that are important and I shall write them when I feel moved to! And hopefully more often than that because all emotions are beautiful, and I want to records them all.
I am currently Lazy

Comments (0)

The Sunshine Room
04/27/2012 04:37 a.m.
I am sitting here in the sunshine room. Eating my muffin that tastes fishy. No seriously it actually kind of tastes like fish. The lady with purple spiked hair just fell asleep next to me while reading her pamphlet. I just glanced up and the boy from across the room was staring. I'm not sure why I chose to glance up at the same moment he chose to stare at me. He had a stare that almost made me think he was reading my mind. If he could I would tell him that I am sitting in this sunshine room because I want to. Because everytime I pass through it in a rush to get to somewhere else I think to myself, well if this isn't a nice room I don't know what is. It has a wonderful view of trees with pink flowers on them. I'm quite certain I could spend hours in here. to share this room with my other sunshine room lovers. Strangers bounded by our ironic need to escape. To sit in solidarity and pretend to busy ourselves to appear as if we actually have a purpose for not being in the cafeteria right now.

Comments (0)

The statuses I never posted
08/16/2011 05:05 a.m.
"Lately lifes been the same I find this comfortable place, with all my friends and then my friends tell me I've always been wrong and I'm so tired of being wrong" ~The Avett Brothers "And I'm screaming at the top of my lungs pretending the echos belong to someone I used to know" ~The Shins
I am currently Disillusioned
I am listening to Avett Brothers

Comments (1)