Blah. I was just going to say "Oh it's nothing teehee, i'm just insomniatic(: I'll go pop some pills, and have a nice sleep! :D" but unfortunately my mood is so bitchy, and angry, and confused that it's taking too much freaking energy to be happy. I'm cracking. I lose grip on myself every second, my mind is stumbling to find something, something to hold onto. I don't know what's truth or lie anymore they're the same, I've hidden my self so deeply I don't know who I was anymore. I'm slipping up, mistakes galore, I start something with a passion, with my usual positivity, and I sort of fizzle out. I usually don't finish or if I do, I drag my heels. I'm myself and not myself and it pisses me off, and I spend nearly all my time in lalaland, imagining something, that's irrevocably focused on reality and my subconscious, and what I hate the most is that I only admit these things to you, I can't admit to myself because I get this urge to rip to tear to kill to anything really, better than this falling falling falling.
I'm tired, I'm torn, naked exposed, and the nightmare begins only I can't remember and I'm sweating I'm fainting and I'm caught only I can't see and it's frustrating I lie lie lie lie but tell the truth so so often, there's no SOS there's no help me please that's anything less than a beggars plea or a sonnets on last final scream. And I'm contradictive hypothetical living my life in my imagination and up is down has always been left to it's own devices and moral codes and right turns turn to u-turns and it's all just. Terribly sad and I'm crying and crying and it hurts. It hurts Aaron. Make it go away. Make the pain go away. I like it, but it's killing me, but noone can help me. Noone noone maybe my self but she's hidden. Craftily secretly oh I'm a terrible person but I'm oh so wonderful and amazing yet so mean and heartless emotional and loving and it's heart-wrenching. I'm not. I'm not anything I can describe. I'm scary. I'm afraid of myself, of the possibilities and it's terrifying. Just how much I affect me.
It's not an entirely cohesive decision. It's an open wound, and there's so many things delicious things I assure you, that thwart and magnify this, thus pressure. It's not a social pressure or a calamity pleasure, but in fact it's a neurosis one of those challenging things that the Universe hasn't quite thought through and it's amazing. That I can think these things so quickly how amazigly quickly I can fathom these things imagine them at just the drop of a hat, yet I can't speak them at will. I have to be incensed, something must anger me in order to infuriate me and to cause these words to well up inside my chest like a rising geyser and they'll form sentences, a paragraph, a cohesive language crippled and riddled by much stranger, factors. I just want to rip shred anything everything just dull my mind. I want haze I want nothingness yet I'm terrified of that exact end of this weapon I posess my mind, which weakens and kills me, even as it boosts my self-confidence and Reading skills. My god. Am I a product of m generation even as I shape it? Or am I just another self deluded teenager, too weak to handle the
subliminal might of the host virus? Am I a memory? Am I some sort of vague reference to the nothingness itself, do I represent something valid and illogical and tangiblebut also in it's own right absolutely chemically tested disastrous? Is this really life, or is it a dream a very strange dream. Am I an animal named San Juanita with all these complicated assortments and puzzles and natures that is dreaming of being something quite human, or am I something not quite human dreaming of being an animal? Whichever so, and as confusing and redundant as it might seem, how stereotypical and exasperated my mind can journey, with overrated sarcasm and indulgences, then my god what a mind! Able to lie and percieve and administer just exactly what I truly need in such lethal doses, to be able to think and write such things , is a blasphemy in itself, non? And I'm tired tired mentally emotionally but physically I'm illogical and vented and oh god I'm dead aren't I, aren't I? Funny this isn't how I percieved it and no no no...I'm still nothing. Yes yes yes that's it isn't it? Nothing nothing, absolutely gloriously nothing....
Aaron. Why do I have these thoughts? They shift their patterns sometimes they change regularly. Bur the words. The words just compound and influence me and I'm reduced again and again and again. Why?
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