Droplets in the Sea

“…for the time being I gave up writing – there is already too much truth in the world – an overproduction which apparently cannot be consumed….” -Otto Rank

This is how I often feel. About everything. Sometimes I get comparative and I forget that the driver behind my actions should be purely expressive and therapeutic. There is no absolute truths, no direction to speak of, no purpose for all. I often think that I am speaking or writing over a clamoring chorus of cacophony so that my contribution only adds to the confusion, to the dissonance. So I decide that I’d rather not write. But it needs to come out. It is a compulsion that bubbles up and bursts into a full spectrum of epileptic color. I need to get in the habit of writing again, or thinking consistently, with a purpose that I can arbitrarily delegate to myself and justify through my actions, not because there’s any inherent merit.

So what have I been thinking about lately? Generally speaking, how everything is an illusion. How we are so totally blind to ourselves. It’s wacky just thinking about how inane our belief systems are, our quirks and world views. We justify what we’re comfortable with. Humans attract more of the same. I heard on an NPR segment these academics call it an ‘echo-chamber’, or an ‘identity silo’, if I’m not mistaken. The speakers were discussing information systems like Google or Facebook that have algorithms that feed us more of what we like by accessing our browsing or interaction history. It all operates off of confirmation bias. The vast majority of people do not deliberately seek out information that conflicts with our world view or philosophy. In fact, many people get agitated when they are exposed to systems of thought with which they disagree. Instead they find information that confirms and reinforces an insular world view or belief system. This creates a concurrent resonance so that information going out is confirmed by information going in. It is a reverberation that amplifies beliefs. The result is a severely skewed picture of the world. The threat is radicalism.

Anyway. We all do this. People are not prone to novelty or newness or anything foreign or unknown that may threaten or unravel our nice picture of the world. People like the path of least resistance, comfort and ease.

All belief system’s are lies (‘Myth’ is a nicer word). Mine as much as any one else’s. But why I think mine has more legitimacy lies in the fact that it has no legitimacy. (Legitimacy is an ethical claim, not a quantitative or measurable claim. My belief system would not produce a successful priest, or lawyer. Perhaps, only a good citizen of the world, or philosopher. Perhaps it’s only good for me, Michael.) My beliefs are arbitrary. Most people would never dream of throwing their beliefs to the wind and calling them arbitrary. Why? Because our belief systems offer us techniques for dealing with the world, with other people, with ourselves, with mortality. Beliefs make everything sweet and sanguine. “The believer is happy; the doubter is wise.” But the longer we hold onto a single belief and fail to venture into new perspectives of the world, the longer we are exposed to sheer ignorance, and the harder it is to escape.

Yea. Beliefs. Character. What the hell is character? It is a defense mechanism. Like all of our ideas that provide us with an orientation when confronting the world. If we fail to maintain character, we fail. Our shortcomings are exposed, our wretched limitations lay open for us and the world to see. Inconsistencies in a world where people depend on consistencies, on ideals and values that endure beyond temporal constraints and natural rotting.

Yea. Beliefs are limitations. We spend our entire lives building these vast belief systems that serve one function: to limit us. They limit us to the overwhelming possibility that has confronted us since our birth. What in the hell is this place called earth, mom, food, hot, pain, god, lies, trust, etc? These ad hoc, explosions in our face, these phenomenon that we didn’t choose but were thrust upon us. The sheer ridiculousness of entering a world overflowing with sensations and ideas.

The moment we exit the womb we begin to limit, to delineate the contours and trace out boundaries of experience, cutting off and segmenting this ocean of possibilities into more manageable pieces for consumption. We ‘rationalize’ this world by limiting it. By censoring it. By condensing it. By symbolizing it. Ugh. It’s all a myth. We are afraid of possibility, of potential. If we weren’t, we’d be something else, we’d be continually born anew.

So much to think about.

So my current situation. I need to get active. Analysis paralysis. A general listlessness about life has settled on my mind. It’s pathetic.

I ran today. I will run tomorrow, and lift. I am spending the remainder of my summer restricting my caloric intake and subjecting my body to intense physical stress. I’m well aware that the mind is connected with the body, the heart, the soul, whatever. A sound body is a sound mind.

I will read more. I say, more than six hours a day. Very doable. A book a week.

I don’t understand people who live on a superficial plane of existence. There are multiple layers that we wear. There’s the superficial layers filled with linguistic clichés and verbiage that allow us to navigate through interpersonal interaction. Then there is a layer that yields our beliefs, our defense mechanisms, our reflections and questions. The final layer is a recognition of our fear, our denial of our inadequacy, our frailty, our inevitable death that will arrive no matter how much we make, what we know or achieve or believe. That is the breaking point for most people, when serious changes and restructuring occurs in their mind. When the other layers have failed, this layer takes control.

Anywho. I don’t get superficiality. I’m great at it, at bullshitting. Most people exist in this layer. Banter. That’s all it is. Useless noise that gets us what we want, a reaction out of people, out of our world. But most people don’t move beyond it. Ever. They exist there. Their mind is so pathetically shallow. That’s why we have Television and the internet and games and amusement. It placates our superficiality. If we actually had to think about life, about our beliefs and actions and deliberations and consequences, most people would unravel or lose themselves.

I watch these people rush to watch their favorite television shows. Their TV. They don’t read. They listen to their music. They read their fantasy novels. They indulge in religious services or shopping sprees. All superficial techniques for avoiding the self.

It’s insane. They don’t write. They don’t read. They don’t converse about meaningful projects. About feelings, about dreams, desires, goals. Knowledge and creativity isn’t prized like it used to be. It’s all about amusement, or power.

So. The human condition has been swiped aside. The humanities departments across the country bear signs of the recent insignificance that plagues them in the face of power. What thrives? Engineering, business, law, science. Disciplines that allow us to master others, master our world. Why do they have the greatest growth? Because they allow for the accumulation and application of power.

Everything comes down the this will to power. I need to think more on it and write more later.

Language. Ideas are public goods. There is no private language, just as there is no private ideas. If it is an idea, it must be accepted and shared by the community, otherwise it will fail to flourish, and die. Ideas are public. You cannot escape the conversational constraints dictated by the public arena. Artists do this though, or attempt to. They create feelings and ideas where there was none previously.

My language traps me. I cannot think beyond it, I cannot communicate about it except with the language I have been afforded by my culture. That is why reading is so amazing. It allows me to transcend my limited abilities so that I can articulate and convey ideas to a broader audience.

/end rant.

<Bed time>



What is insanity? The most familiar definition that comes to mind is from Einstein who said, “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” It is peculiar to think of insanity this way, particularly because it flies in the face of normalcy. Many believe that the socially responsible and acceptable thing to do is to adhere to certain norms and customs and traditions, and that these will allow you to adequately function in society. What normalcy doesn’t guarantee, however, is individuality, or originality. To be an individual, one must do things differently and expect different results. But what of a society that values doing things differently only to achieve the same results, such as participating in all the counter-cultural rituals to gain acceptance as an ‘individual’ ? Can it be said that such a person has achieved individuality?

‎”Insanity in individuals is something rare – but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule.” -F.Nietzsche

Insanity. What I find insane is society. Civilization. Tradition. Custom. Ritual. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the utility of consistency. I understand the pragmatic element of predictability, from a linguistic standpoint as well as a logical and epistemological standpoint. After all, learning curves are greatly reduced by assimilating the knowledge past down by forbearer, no? And we can’t very well go about creating our own neologistic language and expect to be effective interpersonally, now can we?  But where do we draw the line between maintaining and gaining? Passing on and passing over? Subsisting and thriving? Progress requires change. Change requires adaptation. If we sell out to maintain the status quo, if we fail to commit to the efflorescent incarnations of possibility in favor of the denouement of equilibrium, we must embrace our death; for we have already died.

Society is insane. Look at the way they scuttle around in the rat race, trying to secure these temporal provisions; see how they frantically instill meaning and comfort into fabricated facticities. Observe the perduring populous that embodies repetition; always allied to the alacritous attachment of doing the same thing, over and over again, and always expecting different results. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting what you’re getting. In the end everyone’s demise is the same. Society is a self-fulfilling prophecy; a reflexive perpetuation proselytizing more of the same. The social consciousness does not readily expand but rather, it promptly strengthens itself onto itself.

So what is insanity? A break from conventional norms, I suppose. So sanity, once again, is doing the same thing over and over again. The endorsement of cultural customs, e.g. materialism, hedonism, consumerism, aceticism, celebrityism, sciencism, etc. I suppose the great majority of people think they aren’t insane because they don’t expect different results. Predictability is offered as a sycophant of security.

That is the real tragedy. When people not only do the same thing over and over again, but they do not expect different results. They have been sedated or conditioned or desensitized to rudimentary routines and rituals. 9 to 5. Primary, secondary, tertiary schooling, followed by a stint of rebellious youth, cue the career, make room for marriage, corral some kids, restfully retire, and then comes the inevitable surprise of death.

Sanity: “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same results.” This rationalist program will inevitably suffer the same stifling fate as freedom. Time waits for no man. If you are not progressing, you are regressing. Life is meant to flourish. Growth and evolution should be the cynosure of contemplation, the mark of progress. But not by any quantitative measure imposed by external authority. It should be an inward journey. Growth is not static.

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — ‘Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.’ — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.”  -R.W. Emerson

Insanity is characterized by senseless or abnormal behavior by societal standards. But how amazing it is to look at societal standards! Especially through the perspective lens of time! How standards change!

So the question of insanity remains. Are you insane for following your desires? Even if your desires lead to your demise? Even if they cast you into chains? Even if they toss you into pain and hardship? Would you be willing to escape sanity and embrace the lucres of authentic freedom? At what price?

Men are never really willing to die except for the sake of freedom: therefore they do not believe in dying completely.
-A. Camus



I value knowledge… so damn much. I think its a result of some childhood trauma… maybe insecurities.Maybe.

I remember ‘smart’ was those damn kids who could spell… diagram sentences… do multiplication as fast as they could write… and do all their homework. anyway..

I want to be smart and intelligent and well read and wise. Its funny.. I’ve seen a ton of psychologists and psychiatrists and counselors and therapists and psychoanalysts in my life… and usually they pose some universal questions to get an idea of your character…such as “if you could have any super power, who would it be?” or “Who is your hero?” or “What kind of books do you like to read?”… Its funny how these questions become clearer the longer your in the system. Anyway… while I remember being angry most times I was dragged to these idiot doctors… most of whom would simply up the medication or prescribe the newest medication or try out new combinations… despite anything I said… till the point where I would just sit there for 30-60 minutes and ask them enough questions to get them talking about themselves… everyone loves talking about themselves. ANYWAY.. this kind of manipulation was pretty regular… but I can remember I had some God’s honest answers to some of these questions. The one that stuck out most in my mind was “If you could have any super power, what would it be?”… as a depressed 13 year old, I had thought of this one long and hard before… I had examined all the problems with having laser vision, or incredible strength or speed or flight or being the smartest man in the world. I knew that while having these powers would undoubtedly be awesome… they wouldn’t leave me any happier… or prevent me from knowing Truth. So… I reasoned, even at the age of 13, that if there was one quality I desired more than any other, one power that I held above the rest, it was ‘wisdom’. The proper application of knowledge. Knowing when to make a decision, how to make it and what it would lead to.

I still desire wisdom more than any other ideal. Wisdom is gleaned from experience… and it gives birth to success. Wisdom is what gets you to your goals, connecting your actions with your desires.

So in regards to the other questions… yea… I don’t have a hero. Never did. Closest I got was my father… and that was a F’in scary hero if there ever was one.

As far as favorite books? Never had one until the past few years. I was a hyperactive little child… too much curiosity with life. I never learned to tame my focus and realize there were worlds and keys that unlocked miraculous doors inside books. I was too hung up on floating dust and chewing my nails… ok so maybe not that bad… but it usually involved climbing trees, jumping stuff on my bikes, reptiles, building stuff, slingshots and playing with sticks and such. When they asked me what my favorite book was I could probably remember what I’d say… since there were pretty much two things I read religiously growing up… #1 was the encyclopedia… we had a library and every time I took a crap… or had any question in the world.. I would grab a letter and read it.. i must’ve read those things like 10 times through growing up. The other thing I read were magazines. They had pictures… short quick articles… littered with little comments that summed up ideas. I loved those damn magazines…popular science… popular mechanics…etc.,

Cut the ties, hold your sighs, and say good-byes.

There is no fuel, no passion igniting my inner cavities. I want life. I want reasons. Logical or illogical, something with life and vitality I can hug and lean myself against. I want friction that sharpens and warms. I want something in life that’s exciting, enticing, surprising and never regular. I want simplicity that screams fire and love and charm. I want to hold an open hand and watch memories mature. I want something that draws me in and spits me out. I want to be rebirthed in the presence of another. I want to look at life like a challenge that grips and shakes and caresses me. GOD. Where the fuck is a breath of fresh air. Why do I have this horrible feeling like I have it all figured out. Typically I’d get to a point like this in my life and sabotage all my progress, throwing myself into an oblivious raving state, harming those closest to me, and destroy my character in the process. I would rebuild in order to keep myself sane,only to prove to myself that I am capable of doing good. I feel that at the ceiling of achievement lies the virtue of patience. I cannot hurry my progress along. I cannot change my circumstances to better suit me without waiting longer. I desire all day and night to be better, but I will not compromise my aspirations.

How does one become inspired? I feel that I’ve exhausted my resources. My philosophy is.. yes.. its always that simple… now make it work and stick to it. thats the hard part. Sticking to lofty ideals. I want gratification. I want to scrap the nuances of sacrificial achievement. I want to be happy on this journey. I want to sift through the idiosyncratic subtleties that paint the landscape of life. I want to indulge, be straight forward and clear about my intentions. I want to manage a world of discovery without making it a mundane routine.

Help me expand my horizons to things outside myself. I want to remove my preconceptions about life. I want to learn from the best, the mad ones, the crazy ones, the ones with too much time and too little worries. I want to get caught up in a surge of creativity, burning brightly with passion and zeal. I want to stab my way through hardship and beat on the door of opportunity every day of my life. I want to live to the fullest.

All this would be especially wonderful if I had another to share it with. Where are these people? Where is my soul mate? yes they exist… people who, despite similarities or differences… you are drawn to.. magnetized, hypnotized, mesmerized… love… call it what you want but its powerful. These people feed off your presence, and you theirs. I want to bathe in that someones aura of innocence. I want to penetrate their gaze and swim with their soul in mutual harmony and pleasure and share in a gentle childlike mirth that envelops every corner of my mind and heart… I want it to fill the cracks of desperation and settle me like a soothing lullaby.

Where are you?

I’m distraught. No motives other than the introspective examination of a life wasted. I know who I was… I will be everything that person wasn’t. I am tired of chasing paper trails. I want fancy thrills with substance beyond the ephemeral promises of the times. I want to nurture ethereal relationships that quench the parched and pallid landscapes I live in.

Is Life Really What They Say It Is? Life or Bleak Beginnings.

Ebbing and flowing. I stare off, too encumbered to think anymore than necessary. I don’t need to question why, although I spend all day thinking about the answer.

Do I have to lie to myself to get by each day? Is life really what they say it is? Meaningless and void. My personality, my will, all a product of evolution. I am not me, I do not have free will, I am the result of unbelievable chance. Matter in the universe totally coincidentally organized to a place that is now my current condition. My thoughts are not mine. I am merely matter that has evolved. I am the result of chance reactions. I can lie to myself to instill meaning behind my actions that lead to my circumstances and the current circumstances that man has faced throughout history… but it’s a lie. Me thinking it’s a lie is meaningless. Knowing anything is meaningless. Why do I say this? If this life is how they say it is, a freak evolution in the course of time, defying all odds- but maybe not- or anything that would cause matter to stray in disarray, what is the point? Who I am? What I am doing here? Is it enough to accept that by chance we arrived to a point where we dissect the very fragments of space and time we’re composed of? We turn and pry and poke at matter and energy and calculate predictions with Godlike accuracy. If we are just matter… where is it in the laws of nature or the evolutionary scope of man that he questions what he is? Does a rock question its origins? Do we, composed of trillions of seemingly innate molecules, as more organized states of matter, have any greater place in space and time? If my thoughts are motivated by mere molecules simply happening by chance, programmed to respond from a long line of genetic codes that have been constantly victimized and molded by chance circumstances and mutations, am I void of a will? Do I even have a choice?

Recently I’ve been trying to entertain the idea that there is no God. This concept is so foreign to my inner being that when I look for reasons to do something, apart from knowing there is a purpose and a plan and perfection behind it, everything is for nothing. Lies? What is reality? Who can prove it to me, or themselves, any more than what they are willing to accept? I cannot run from the reality I swim in every day that needs answers.

Why does man create? It’s not for survival. You don’t need to create to survive. You need to do whatever you can, but you certainly don’t need to create. Why paint? Why build monuments? Why is man so hungry for power?

I look around and I see meaningless. I see people who are sick of the lies they swallowed. Everyone thinks they’re going somewhere. That they have it figured out. They need to in order to move on. But is anyone any closer to substantial understanding? People accept delusions, deceive themselves by settling for cheap answers, and continue delve into this world of matter and molecules that we create as a playground for itself. We are the molecules organizing molecules. For what purpose? There is none. We are a bubbling, frothing, chance reaction of minuscule matter in the universe that’s miraculously persisted to churn on. Somehow the random and unorganized matter managed to find a way to organize, and produce more organization, and even predict patterns of organization and devise ways to see into itself and ask about the origins of itself, only to arrive at the conclusion it was all a random chance. The fact that order exists at all amazes me. Laws?

Do the laws of the universe create life? Do the forces that act on all matter inevitably lead to reactions causing organization that begets more organization? And begets organization to the point where the molecules begin to question themselves and their intent? Organized states of matter drawing from the universe around them that produce something out of nothing?

Do I have a soul? Is that what resides within me?

Do the laws of the universe create life? Do the forces that act on all matter inevitably lead to reactions causing organization that begets more organization? And begets organization to the point where the molecules begin to question themselves and their intent? Organized states of matter drawing from the universe around them that produce something out of nothing? Ideas? Truth? Philosophical concepts and laws to live and govern by? I would rather say we are gods. If we are not, we are made in God likeness. A consciousness exists within us that is more than the resulting whole we’re composed of. If we were solely matter, we would be no more relevant in the scheme of time than dust in the wind. Our experiences would be lies. Lies would be lies. There would be no right or wrong. The evolutionary reaction would persist until it fizzles out. All of these thoughts, however personal we make them, attached with sentimental penchants to make it worth understanding, are nothing. Do not convince yourself they are more than the reality you accept them to be. You swallow lies if you think you are worth more than the ashes that construct and guide these inclinations. If there is no real meaning to life, and everything is meaningless- aside from the lie you’re convinced it to be- than knowing this is meaningless. Getting to the bottom of anything, the truth about something, knowing everything- is pointless. You will not be any better off.

I suppose people, once they’re convinced that there is no origin, no God or purpose or real plan, they can begin to make life whatever they want it to be. They are masters of their fate. The opportunity chance has given them allows them to be a god for a brief moment in time. They infuse their decisions with the illusion of meaning, deciding and believing in a fabricated existence. They declare their own laws and morals and philosophies to be paramount to anyone around them. Even if they’re tolerant, they’ve arrived at the conclusion that everyone can believe whatever they want because there is no meaning, and they are right because they believe it to be so. This is called existentialism. This is the current state mankind has found for itself. Because there is no truth, and all is relative, everything is debatable. True meaning is vapid.

Is there a God? If he is, why are we separated from him? If all that is can be measured and calculated before our eyes, where is this God? What is love? What is faith? What is honesty? What is truth? What is compassion? What is empathy? What is kindness? What is a will? Are they mere reactions? behaviors? patterns? How can these things be measured? Is right and wrong measurable by a definite scale? If not, why do be place faith in such things as hope?

If God is real, why would he allow people to suffer? Is it his will we suffer or, like a father’s love for his child, does his heart break to see us struggle? Does he pain and weep when he sees us scrape by in life, accepting pathetic answers for help instead of looking to him? Does he want to know us? Does he even care? Did he make us for the insignificant novelty of it all? Little beings hurting, hurting others, suffering to survive, questioning life and existing, crawling through life on their hands and knees to spread themselves over as much material or immaterial gains as possible, only to find themselves on their deathbed with the cold reality that it was all for nothing. The suffering, the joy, the relationships, were for nothing, and they slip into oblivion. Or do they find themselves in other place, confronted with answers to the questions? Are they blinded by the radiating perfection of a just God who they’ve reserved as an afterthought? Does this God accept them to a place they never wished to seek? Does a door open to those who don’t knock? Is there a place where a relationship with a perfect God exists? A God who you never desired to look for or know? Where would a perfect justice place the blame? On God or us?

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Confused and lost. Programming myself on a daily basis. I know too much for my own good. I don’t know what I want. I know what I don’t. I struggle daily with vices, addictions, motivating. I’m obsessed with learning, knowledge, acquiring it, putting it to use; and at the same time, totally wasting away because life is short and seemingly unfulfulling. Creativity can be practiced. You’re only as smart as you think you are. Know you are. What is my existence. It’s a cruel catch phrase. I want to catch something that will pull me along. Passions are postal stamps. You label your hobbies as cool. Nothing is filling. Negetivity will bring you nothing, show you nothing. I know nothing in the scheme of things. I think too much. I get headaches, heartaches, and stomache aches. I am conscious all the time. There is little I overlook. I say everything for a reason. But it doesn’t mean i mean it. I look past and beyond whats behind and in front of me, obstacles, you know. I realize my happiness is trivial when compared to yours. I hope your happy. Love exists only in the eyes of a blind man. Fortunately you can gouge your eyes out. I only plead with myself. Im very articulated and poigant. Picky, selective, particular but I’ll lead you to believe I’m not. I’ll please you, but your not special. Few read the credits. Who really cares about anyone but themselves. I can be your biggest fan. I believe in bliss. Lying to youself. Ignorance. I have a hard time dealing with reality. Reality is debatable. I can close my eyes. I escape too often. No ones special without a label. Power corrupts. Knowledge corrodes. Wisdom prevails. and all this means absolutely nothing.

hair everywhere.

Sunday, April 17, 2005

hair everywhere.
so i go on spontaneous binges. yesterday… i was like… yea… im gonna bleach my hair. im tired of black. so i friggen bleached it like… yellow… or as close to blonde as possible without having my hair fall out. awesome. so im blonde/yellow again. i want another tattoo. i wanna do crazy shit. i want to crash a car. thats an experience youll never forget. i wanna get drunk and pass out on the beach.. wake up to a sunrise with sand in my hair. i wanna get so stoned that i can talk for hours about nothing… as if its the most important thing ever. i wanna trip my face off and play guitar for hours and hours… and write pretty lyrics. and write. and draw trippy things… i wanna surfffff…. i havent gone in some time and i miss it so bad. and the beach is only like what… 3 miles away.. or whatever… poor excuse mike… i wanna friggen not give a shit about what anyone else thinks.. i forget that i dont and i find myself over thinking shit. i really only care about what i believe and know to be true. thats not dependent on anyone but me. hm…. some people are selfish. im one of those people. but i can admit it and say… im selfish.. im sorry… i really try not to be.. and i really do something about it. i wanna constantly refine my personality. its fun anyway. i wanna find new friends. experience new people. im half excited that im going to watch my life be torn from my fingers when i join the marines… its better than watching myself throw my life away. am i right? i wanna find a girl who’s always willing to put me in a good mood even if they arent. and i wanna always be the one that puts that girl in a good mood if she isnt. i want a girl that knows shes loved by me and thats good enough for her. i want a girl whose feelings arent dictated by my feelings. and i want to feel the same. jack johnson gets me hard. his music is amazing. the new CD is out of control. Prom in a week. woot. 21 PASSENGER FORD EXCURSION. hot. i dislike big bawlers. people who think they are always right. people who judge. people who prevent themselves from being friends with anyone and everyone to save face. or reputation. i want a reputation for not giving a shit about my reputation. ha.

Currently listening:
History for Sale
By Blue October
Release date: 05 August, 2003
12:11 PM

No more breaking

Thursday, April 14, 2005

i dont want my heart to break for no reason. sometimes i find it necessary to break my own heart. i get complacent with my feelings and i become numb to the happenings around me. i have to hurt to feel again. people get upset with me for being insensitive. they dont realize its unintentional. although alot of times when i recognize the insensitive state i choose to stay cold… sometimes… i try far too hard sometimes… and not nearly hard enough other times. people try far to hard sometimes… and not nearly hard enough other times. i dont like being taken for granted.. and i do things to avoid being taken for granted. i dislike when people go out of thier way to give a shit… just so it can be noted that they gave a shit… when in their heart they dont give a fuck. they dont even make the effort to make thier efforts worthwhile. useless. i started lifting again.. i cant wait. i want to gain 20 lbs in the next 3 months. 185bs. i met my neighbor for the first time last week. shes an interesting person. fun. i like being creative. i like writing. ive been beingh creative and writing alot lately. its been… refreshing. i like expanding my mind. love is painful and difficult. its also absolutely amazing. i want to be in love forever.
10:42 PM