Tomorrow we'll start the same old thing again.
If willy nelson was my friend, I think I would manage the meloncholy of depression much better. I assume that I love in a world of loving and understanding people. But everyone can be as afraid and timid as I. There could be more to this entry if I had tried to do so many things I have said I would.
I said I would get my passport, get on a plane and go to Japan.
I said I would buy a van and travel around america and mow peoples lawns.
I said I would marry a girl, finish school and get a good job, have kids, be a christian.
I have done none of these things,, and I never will.
some of these things.
I get a thrill out of bringing interest to my life. General, public, private. whichever, all the above, and then some.
I am a jester, a storyteller. and yet when I yell I sound like a tired toddler.
TIme spent in the same place gets me to overthink things that should have been long forgotten.
I need somewhere to go, to give it all away. My computer (not the laptop) my camera (not the hot one) and my various and numerous, countless possesions. I have many things.
Just waiting to belong to someone who would give a damn to have them.
That would make me, sincerely, happy, and glad to have passed something along, to keep track of where its at, and nothing more, even if its lost, at least I know it had traveled.
I live my life vicariously, which sometimes I miss. Where were you today I might ask. Why werent you where you said you where going to be? A change of heart? You glanced out the window, or down the banister, saw strange faces, or rain, or sun, or the fear of conceal and cary handguns, hairy old men, women with children outside the Old Navy, the wavyness of insecurity, the vagueness of homeland security some one might invade my mind and duplicate me. Why must I be scrutinizing everything and anything for attention.
I wont get satisfaction from writing, drawing, boxing up, boarding, untangling the cords strewn haphazardly about.
Nothing gets out.
Nothing comes across as sincere.
I fear nothing but my own reflection.
The directon I go is decided by the footsteps of those no longer with us.
I'd feel alot better if people just wanted to hug me.
I'd feel alot better if people wanted to be with me.
I'd feel alot better if someone would turn this thing off, fold up the screen, and tell me, your dreaming, wake up, we are all around you, we never left.
"Oh it was aweful, we were all swept away by this terrible storm, dad you were there, but you were different, you were sick, mom you were there but you were sad, sister you were never there because you were dead, and I never knew you, brother, you never spent time with the son you had."
oh it was aweful, grandma, grandpa, dad, sister, grandpa all dead.
then a hardy laugh was had by everyone in my room, the sun was out and FADE TO BLACK
I DO FEEL BAD FOR POSTING THIS I DO.
I DONT WANT TO PUT PEOPLE THROUGH MY GRIEF
BUT I DONT WANT TO PAY SOMEONE TO TELL ME ITS OK
I DONT WANT SOME ONE TO TRY TO GIVE ME MEDICINE
I KNOW HOW TO HEAL, I KNOW HOW TO FEEL GOOD, AND IF NOT GRATIFIED BY THE LOVE OF OTHERS AND MY OWN EFFORTS.
THE TAX ON MY SHELTER WOULD BE ENOUGH TO FEED A FAMILY FOR MONTHS
THE TIME ON MY HANDS WOULD BE ENOUGH TO TRY SO MANY THINGS, MULTIPLE TIMES OVER
THE TEXT THAT I WRITE IS AT BEST JUVENILE, I DIGRESS ITS ALL ABOUT ME
WHY AM I LOOKING FOR SYMPATHY?
I TURNED 25, AND THE SAME STREETS ARE ALL THAT I WALK ON
So, ergo, just to let you know. I think texas might be a nice place to travel to and from.
there are some familiar people, but why do I hate that state so?
Well, this new year, I am going to go to Japan, spend all of my money and get culturally raped.
I cant wait. Need to get a passport, need to set a date, need to find some answers. some mates to hang with, and before its to late, get a perm.
Turn off the lights the parties over.
If willy nelson was my friend, I think I would manage the meloncholy of depression much better. I assume that I love in a world of loving and understanding people. But everyone can be as afraid and timid as I. There could be more to this entry if I had tried to do so many things I have said I would.
I said I would get my passport, get on a plane and go to Japan.
I said I would buy a van and travel around america and mow peoples lawns.
I said I would marry a girl, finish school and get a good job, have kids, be a christian.
I have done none of these things,, and I never will.
some of these things.
I get a thrill out of bringing interest to my life. General, public, private. whichever, all the above, and then some.
I am a jester, a storyteller. and yet when I yell I sound like a tired toddler.
TIme spent in the same place gets me to overthink things that should have been long forgotten.
I need somewhere to go, to give it all away. My computer (not the laptop) my camera (not the hot one) and my various and numerous, countless possesions. I have many things.
Just waiting to belong to someone who would give a damn to have them.
That would make me, sincerely, happy, and glad to have passed something along, to keep track of where its at, and nothing more, even if its lost, at least I know it had traveled.
I live my life vicariously, which sometimes I miss. Where were you today I might ask. Why werent you where you said you where going to be? A change of heart? You glanced out the window, or down the banister, saw strange faces, or rain, or sun, or the fear of conceal and cary handguns, hairy old men, women with children outside the Old Navy, the wavyness of insecurity, the vagueness of homeland security some one might invade my mind and duplicate me. Why must I be scrutinizing everything and anything for attention.
I wont get satisfaction from writing, drawing, boxing up, boarding, untangling the cords strewn haphazardly about.
Nothing gets out.
Nothing comes across as sincere.
I fear nothing but my own reflection.
The directon I go is decided by the footsteps of those no longer with us.
I'd feel alot better if people just wanted to hug me.
I'd feel alot better if people wanted to be with me.
I'd feel alot better if someone would turn this thing off, fold up the screen, and tell me, your dreaming, wake up, we are all around you, we never left.
"Oh it was aweful, we were all swept away by this terrible storm, dad you were there, but you were different, you were sick, mom you were there but you were sad, sister you were never there because you were dead, and I never knew you, brother, you never spent time with the son you had."
oh it was aweful, grandma, grandpa, dad, sister, grandpa all dead.
then a hardy laugh was had by everyone in my room, the sun was out and FADE TO BLACK
I DO FEEL BAD FOR POSTING THIS I DO.
I DONT WANT TO PUT PEOPLE THROUGH MY GRIEF
BUT I DONT WANT TO PAY SOMEONE TO TELL ME ITS OK
I DONT WANT SOME ONE TO TRY TO GIVE ME MEDICINE
I KNOW HOW TO HEAL, I KNOW HOW TO FEEL GOOD, AND IF NOT GRATIFIED BY THE LOVE OF OTHERS AND MY OWN EFFORTS.
THE TAX ON MY SHELTER WOULD BE ENOUGH TO FEED A FAMILY FOR MONTHS
THE TIME ON MY HANDS WOULD BE ENOUGH TO TRY SO MANY THINGS, MULTIPLE TIMES OVER
THE TEXT THAT I WRITE IS AT BEST JUVENILE, I DIGRESS ITS ALL ABOUT ME
WHY AM I LOOKING FOR SYMPATHY?
I TURNED 25, AND THE SAME STREETS ARE ALL THAT I WALK ON
So, ergo, just to let you know. I think texas might be a nice place to travel to and from.
there are some familiar people, but why do I hate that state so?
Well, this new year, I am going to go to Japan, spend all of my money and get culturally raped.
I cant wait. Need to get a passport, need to set a date, need to find some answers. some mates to hang with, and before its to late, get a perm.
Turn off the lights the parties over.