moving.

not sure if i’m going to keep this tumblr or save my posts in a .doc file and then delete them but either way, this place is dead. thanks for reading.

why do you always have to get mad at me? i’m trying to avoid bothering people and you say i’m troublesome. you tell to do something and i do it because you’re practically forcing me to and even then, you say i’m not thinking about others. i’m trying to follow what you want but it’s not even good enough because for some reason, no matter what i do, it’s wrong. for fuck’s sake, what do you want.

i’m sorry i can’t be like that bitch. that bitch who betrayed you but you still want to be friends with because she’s better than me in every fucking way. i think you’ve realized i’m pretty fucked up and there’s no way to fix me so can you just officially dump me on the streets so i don’t feel like there’s still a chance for me to not be as useless as i am. just crush me so i can stop being so stupid and continue crawling on my own pathetic path of solitude.

sometimes you really need to put your head in a pile of shit before you are capable of coming up with anything remotely philosophical, or rather, just anything. when you’re down, you think about all kinds of things that you would never glance at when your head is stuck in the clouds. though it never is good to forever place yourself in such deep pits because people just are not capable of handling everything; so here comes the solution. balance life and live on, live on.

* Posted this on my social Tumblr but I think it belongs here more. Plus I haven’t updated in forever.

If I gave life to my thoughts, would my words be able to breathe? Would anyone read them, listen to them as they speak in strangely composed cadences? Rhythm that is nomadic; will they be born unheard children, though they are not dumb?

As the one who conceived their very being, dictating their mission, I cannot conceive that their values will be so short lived. Perhaps, rather, I wish it not. For how could one stand to see others simply ignore the offspring of her nine months of grueling labor. The day of delivery was a victory. Not because the pain was finally over, but because it marked the renaissance of her whole being, particularly her beliefs.

So when I present my brew of speculations, I intend to do so only in the presence of a mindful audience, fixated on learning the vernacular language my words speak and not the skewed or poorly conjectured rendition of which some silly asinine fool came up with on the spot to impress (though it usually results in the opposite effect). Yet, life is cruel. It does not present my selection of concerns with a fair assembly, no matter how gifted I deem them in my eyes.

This is my dilemma. However, to never give chance to them will make me a deficient god. To wield such a magnificent power, yet to abuse it by letting it die with me because I chose to let them whelm me with an empty pool. It will only make me as low as that of a faulty iron pipe. Rusty. Unreliable because I am so unstable; I destroy the building and everything in near proximity. I have let you judge me to your pleasure, but no more. Now is the time you read me and my collection of letters from the English alphabet. My phrases, my sentences, my paragraphs. My words, my mind. Myself.

If you refuse, I will put my ego aside, as there is no need to beat knowledge into hollows. But if you listen rather than hear, that whisper you thought was so very weak, will intensify—a blade—and strike.

And so then, I let them be born.

explode explode explode. catch on fire. burn burn burn. die die die. you’re dead to me. i wasn’t enough to make you feel something, but i hope you will suffer like i did in another relationship with a friend. cast you away and make you feel like something is wrong with you, like your some bothersome creature infested with some deadly virus.