I could speak it softly, yell it from the rooftops, scream it from my lungs...yet bottom line you never will hear it...it never will matter to you and regardless of what I think, feel, desire, want or crave...it is meaningless and pointless.
I believe in God but I also believe in chemicals and electrical pulses. Those last two things mean so much of life is preordained insanity and it hurts deeply. The insanity itself doesn't hurt, it just hurts knowing that the feelings I experience cannot be properly shared by one whom I would like to share it with.
Ergo, this is all rendered meaningless. Writing about something that is pointless and has no existence beyond my mind and whatever words I choose to waste on here.
Bravo Matthew, bravo.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
It's Nice Being Able to Write What I Want
Few people read this, so I don't make profit off of the ads but I am able to express myself fully about my thoughts concerning this huge wrecked up ball of confusion and pain that life is.
I hate sexuality, I hate migraines and I most certainly hate people that insist on acting immature...yes I am at the top of that list.
Bah, I'll just go to sleep already.
I hate sexuality, I hate migraines and I most certainly hate people that insist on acting immature...yes I am at the top of that list.
Bah, I'll just go to sleep already.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Stupid Mornings
I really dislike pills. The medicine helps me to sleep but at what feels like the cost of my ability to function properly. I'm not even sure why I want to function properly when it seems the best course of action is to lay down in the floor until something happens.
On the plus side I think I'm cleaning my room (assuming this isn't just an incredibly dull dream reminiscent of the monotony of daily life) and that is something I can accomplish. I may be a complete failure in almost every other sense of the world but by golly I will be a clean failure if nothing else!
What makes the morning stupid? Memories of yesterday for sure. Memories of a lot of things actually, yeah...I could use a complete memory wipe at this point, that woudl make things better.
Things needing to be practical really really makes things a bit more difficult, akin to being shot in the foot while simultaneously being set on fire while realizing my socks are completely wet and are somehow fire retardant. Being burned, shot all while enduring wet socks, things can't get worse then that, right? Right?!?
There are plus sides, just like there are many chances for life in general but at the end of the day it is hard for me to try any of it. Personal motivation keeps fluctuating between negative levels and he slight problem of not existing at all. You do the math, I suck at it.
Anyway, I guess I will clean more before I have an existential crisis concerning the rights of dust to live in its own free world.
On the plus side I think I'm cleaning my room (assuming this isn't just an incredibly dull dream reminiscent of the monotony of daily life) and that is something I can accomplish. I may be a complete failure in almost every other sense of the world but by golly I will be a clean failure if nothing else!
What makes the morning stupid? Memories of yesterday for sure. Memories of a lot of things actually, yeah...I could use a complete memory wipe at this point, that woudl make things better.
Things needing to be practical really really makes things a bit more difficult, akin to being shot in the foot while simultaneously being set on fire while realizing my socks are completely wet and are somehow fire retardant. Being burned, shot all while enduring wet socks, things can't get worse then that, right? Right?!?
There are plus sides, just like there are many chances for life in general but at the end of the day it is hard for me to try any of it. Personal motivation keeps fluctuating between negative levels and he slight problem of not existing at all. You do the math, I suck at it.
Anyway, I guess I will clean more before I have an existential crisis concerning the rights of dust to live in its own free world.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Day by Day
It feels like time is becoming muddled into this single unbreakable blob that I cannot begin to understand. It is hard for me to break lines apart and see truth for what it is, or really see anything for what it is.
These writings act as some kind of anchor and a reminder that I am not living some profane version of the movie Groundhog Day.
There is a real aspect to life, there is a reality, there is this confusion, there is anger, there is pain, there is sadness, there are happy thoughts too. Amalgamation upon confused mixtures of bitter words of varying shades of intellect.
It does not compute, it does not make sense, it is a struggle to press on, I do not want a game, I did not ask for this, no one ever gave me the option and here I am as I am and nothing more or less then what I was confused as being.
These writings act as some kind of anchor and a reminder that I am not living some profane version of the movie Groundhog Day.
There is a real aspect to life, there is a reality, there is this confusion, there is anger, there is pain, there is sadness, there are happy thoughts too. Amalgamation upon confused mixtures of bitter words of varying shades of intellect.
It does not compute, it does not make sense, it is a struggle to press on, I do not want a game, I did not ask for this, no one ever gave me the option and here I am as I am and nothing more or less then what I was confused as being.
I am not a fan of my own thoughts most of the time. It feels like there are two people, one person who is speaking and giving all of these thoughts and there is the real me who is just here to act as a meat shield for all of the response.
Not an incredibly cherry world view I'll admit, but if something feels and seems like it might be true and the honest truth it may be true.
How much of negative is a choice? Is it purely perception or is there a real element of fatalism involved?
Not an incredibly cherry world view I'll admit, but if something feels and seems like it might be true and the honest truth it may be true.
How much of negative is a choice? Is it purely perception or is there a real element of fatalism involved?
No Words Free
There are no words free that i may use to describe everythign you are, all that you are and all that you will be.
Words fall short and actions fail to render true meaning to one like you.
Your name unspeakable, your my eyes can never meet your gaze, to be in your mere shadow causes me to stumble.
In few words you are beyond perfection, you are one beyond my imagination.
Words fall short and actions fail to render true meaning to one like you.
Your name unspeakable, your my eyes can never meet your gaze, to be in your mere shadow causes me to stumble.
In few words you are beyond perfection, you are one beyond my imagination.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Useless Repeating Words
Something I will never understand is why people insist on saying the same thing again and again without giving an actual reason for why they insist on telling me the exact same thing again and again.
To add further insult, certain looks are used in conjunction with the same words and it becomes, to me at least, a rather insulting reminder as to why I despise the company of certain people.
Are some people so hopelessly broken that all they can do is recite the same lines again and again? Is it supposed to a form of torture? A test to see how long I can go before I just shoot myself so I will not have to deal with hearing the same words again and again?
The term family is nothing but a joke to me. I betray my sense of arrogance when I say that it feels like I am more mature then those I am around. It may be the fact I am who I am but if someone is doing what I feel to be irrational I would like to talk to them and see why they are doing this. Repeating the same phrases again and again is not really a viable solution, of course this is coming from my vastly inferior mind and what is ultimately nothing more then a merely humble opinion.
At the end of the day big words, irritating repetition, nor loud angry words get you respect or your idea conveyed. It acts as a reminder as to why I have a severe dislike for a shockingly high number of people. Respect is not automatically given, it has to be earned, especially when one insists on being such a pompous ass for the majority of my life.
To add further insult, certain looks are used in conjunction with the same words and it becomes, to me at least, a rather insulting reminder as to why I despise the company of certain people.
Are some people so hopelessly broken that all they can do is recite the same lines again and again? Is it supposed to a form of torture? A test to see how long I can go before I just shoot myself so I will not have to deal with hearing the same words again and again?
The term family is nothing but a joke to me. I betray my sense of arrogance when I say that it feels like I am more mature then those I am around. It may be the fact I am who I am but if someone is doing what I feel to be irrational I would like to talk to them and see why they are doing this. Repeating the same phrases again and again is not really a viable solution, of course this is coming from my vastly inferior mind and what is ultimately nothing more then a merely humble opinion.
At the end of the day big words, irritating repetition, nor loud angry words get you respect or your idea conveyed. It acts as a reminder as to why I have a severe dislike for a shockingly high number of people. Respect is not automatically given, it has to be earned, especially when one insists on being such a pompous ass for the majority of my life.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Thought of the Day
As much as I enjoy writing such eloquent pieces of self-focused rubbish, there comes a point where one becomes so disgusted and so sick of self.
Who I am.
What I am.
Why I am.
A threefold damnable truth intermingled with its own self deniable lies.
I feel like I am going to break if thigns continue on the way they are.
Self absorbed.
Self ordained.
Self proclaimed.
It feels like my once sacred outlet of writing has become infected by this disease, this filth that is created. The nobility, the worth, the purpose, the being all becomes intermingled and intermixed with concepts that contradict their own being.
I am sick of traditional wisdom. I do not care about what you deem to be the absolute and undying truth, your speeches about the good things in life...keep your money and go die with it, along with your health cares and bastardized versions of Christ and the church. Since you want your damn religion so much, by all means take the trash and go die along with it.
Who I am.
What I am.
Why I am.
A threefold damnable truth intermingled with its own self deniable lies.
I feel like I am going to break if thigns continue on the way they are.
Self absorbed.
Self ordained.
Self proclaimed.
It feels like my once sacred outlet of writing has become infected by this disease, this filth that is created. The nobility, the worth, the purpose, the being all becomes intermingled and intermixed with concepts that contradict their own being.
I am sick of traditional wisdom. I do not care about what you deem to be the absolute and undying truth, your speeches about the good things in life...keep your money and go die with it, along with your health cares and bastardized versions of Christ and the church. Since you want your damn religion so much, by all means take the trash and go die along with it.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Muck of the World
There is so much, so little real, so few things worth the bother.
Thankfully however, the things worth the bother are actually worth something. Doesn't change my apathy towards the more frivolous and stupid things in this life but it does mean I want to live.
Thankfully however, the things worth the bother are actually worth something. Doesn't change my apathy towards the more frivolous and stupid things in this life but it does mean I want to live.
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