This, this is my honesty.

Give me something thats new, tell me something I've never been told before, interest me in anything but this. I want to move into the mountains and hide away forever more with my words and my feelings and this intensity. I want no longer to be seen, no one needs to know the things which rush through my head and leave me paralyzed. I am a puppet of my thoughts and feelings. I own the puppet, the string directing it lace back to it. I am not hiding away. I am, against some of my own thoughts, blabbering on about who I think I am and in the process revealing who I am.
Today in the car I thought "I no longer want to ask why, instead I want to ask what." I also tried to pretend that in going through a fog I would enter a slightly altered world, a parallel universe. At this moment I find myself asking, why not? Ha, do you see what my problem is yet? Its an intensely creative delusional mind I live in. Half the time I can just think back on my perceived experiences and think, "that was just a dream." And people call me deep. Ha. Intense, yes. I live on through all the oddness. I feel small. Do you know what I mean, do you feel it as I feel it?
I often reference to standing on the edge. I had an image today in my head of me, standing on the edge of a certain realm, all self indulgently held up high by my dreams, too afraid to take a leap into reality, too nervous to jump into what I might find if I could just convince myself to try. Shaking, terrified. The view was peaceful. I laugh at my self for my intensity, I'm still a child. I feel aged. I am peter pan. (I know I'm not peter pan).
I have such a tangled mind. My labyrinth. No string to help me out. My thoughts are powerful, only to me.
I am afraid of posting this. I'm afraid of being seen and all my input being dismissed because all I have done is worthless. I am both confident of myself and completely in doubt.

Some things that just were.

Holding arms that feel down only so deep
Crawling back to what might have been
But for weak delivery
Considered sin
Breaking bottles for the chance of living to get what one wants
Decisions come easy when you know what you want
Hate comes easy when you know what you want.

Trifles so belonging,
So don’t understand me, don’t try, don’t let me let you in. Don’t forget with me you never win. We are never home, its always gone too far, I always over step boundaries. That line, yeah I’ll cross it.

STRIKE ME
Fuck me up, learn me my lesson
Don’t hate me I cry,
Corrupted crumpled seething
Hate for the owner.

Dear me, please stop.
Please figure this out soon and do what you supposed you could or believe you can’t and move on.
Dear self; I’m sorry. Hell comes too quickly, so mysterious. Like a lover it enters. We are all the bearers of an affair, cheating, destroying, lying, forgetting.
Miscommuication
Ripping and hacking and gnawing and devouring.
I DIE A LITTLE MORE EACH DAY.
The trap was well set, the actions no more predictable than firestorm disaster of sky.
So trampled, one who walked out into the road of its own regard.
Bring me back to life, I plea: hoping someone will care enough to tell me to pick another cup. Emit words please oh god.
I died the day reality was created.
Attraction: meet the living dead. The heat will stop and head shall freeze over.
I burned myself when I made so to dethaw. My eyes singed out, ears defected.
Deflect these dreams.
END IT> oh god my god oh god
Kill me screams a part of me I want most
Fear driven by fear
I WILL NOT LET GO,
Climbing over vines that hang me.

humph

I'm thinking I should create a secret blog, where I can write openly about anything I want to. But It's not going to happen. I don't need it, I have journals. I always try and make what I'm writing worth reading though, so its not likely I'll get out whats really inside. I hope I try not to give these thoughts too much air, hoping they suffocate. Sometimes they do.
I'm feeling pessimistic about certain things. Its not enough. I'm speaking cryptically. Simply, I need to find problems in things. Well not need, but I feel the drive to pick apart things. In certain areas I'll never really be satisfied and I don't see that much wrong with that. How odd.
I don't like plans sometimes, I like stability though, sometimes.

Covered

Silver and gold are precious, so i know.
And I'v been told that moments of perfection
they mean everything
even if they never meet our reflection

Sitting on pavement
its moving
Unstable
They've gone and broken my cable
And if I were able
I'd try to find a piece of the truth
but I'm living a fable

And faithful,
maybe
Don't save me
even if I ask
because its getting harder to see
everything I want to be
in the rear view mirror

Perplex motion
living to devotion
resperirating dying motives
waking up
covered in cobwebs
hostess

Experiments.

My moods have been so unpredictable as of late. In English class today, to just kind of introduce ourselves we had to write a response to a poem, which was about not being able to express oneself.

Inability number one.

We were allowed to write about whatever we liked, a lot of people dabled on the basics of who they were, what they wanted other people to see. I want people to see the broken. Maybe that's a flaw, maybe it can't be decided. I felt exposed though and the response gotten wasn't what I wanted. I was so scared to share it, probably because I figured if I put myself on display I would be able to not fear letting people in. No one wants to come in this deep though, they shouldn't want to. I don't know what I want.

Inability number two. Probably should be at three at the moment, maybe four.
I am so full of maybes. I just don't know.
Don't know whether to count that.

I think I think wrong, off. I love my thought processes sometimes but sometimes I just really want to have a calmer brain. I'm addicted to the conflict, and in my obsessional tendencies I fear I have become dramatic and childish, well i should fear it anyway.
i don't know whether to count that or not.

I guess i am conceited, self absorbed definitely. Good thoughts, Stasi, try to focus on the positive. Am I constantly acting? I am bad at it.

Its possible to not think about it, so why do I continue dwelling? I am a ruler off my moods as much as they are a ruler of me.

"My god this is our life, we're living like we're victims" Terry Naomi.
I am.

I would ask who ever reads this to forgive my mood, the past one not being my brightest.


What else do I remember from today? I wish I could put words to all that I think. Kristen's response hit a very strong note with me, I respect her for what she wrote.
Carly also did a nice job, so did Sarah. I liked Sarah's a lot actually. They are such good writers, so different from each other but so satisfying to hear. What is it they have in common? They all bring a sense of emotional honesty to the table, which I guess I value, no I know I do. I find I don't like closed off people as much as I used to, I don't want to deal with them anymore.

My thoughts fly to my flaws, things I should try to improve. I never will try though. I get myself stuck. Secretly I think a lot of life's beauty comes from the moments when I am broken, atleast thats what I think I think. I don't know how true all of my thoughts are, I always have to be careful, if given any choice of what to think about with no consequences I would day dream my life into grandeur.

So many things fall apart so easily. People make promises they know they won't keep, they hold on to things that aren't forever, pretending like they can just adopt them into theirlifstyle without any pain when it dies, when it gets ripped out. I do. I don't know about you.

the Whip.

So what am I to do with this aching heart of mine? Where am I to go now that all I know has been shattered. In other words my entire world I have aquired has been proven faulty. Is it possible to be unreal, being? It seems it. I live daily a life created from misfitting dreams and harsh cold cruelty, to myself, by myself.
Is it possible they could ever provide the means for relief?
Yes, I have seen it. It requires much sacrifice to gain this way but it suffices when you don't want to compromise.

Enter fear. Of what? The phoenix. I am attached by a lie that gets me through by the root of my teeth, all else it rips away. Barren world draining me. I am naked and bleeding, but my mind percieves flying. The vision fades, replaced by sharpened nails clawing.

It creeps in, mascarading, massacring.
And I end it, crawling away, confused, my mind cleared but cloudy.
Have I met my spirit guide or is also my connection between eyes and perception scrambled. I bleed a mess on the floor. But there is something left worth following, or taming.
The whip cracks, I agree with it but can I entice it to play my side?

FOLLOW ME.
There is no direction.
I've lost my head for the moment but the feeling reigns supremely sending shots of sinless joyful panging.
Enter new life.
the birth.
The creature the reins and horse and rider intertwined to collaboration make.
Given life through recognition.
Breathe it, Fear it, Respect it
BECOME it.
or was it already you?

Disregard but for the most private abstract moments of exploration. Thoughts loved, danger divine. Remember the nights alone. Apply memory, how faded it seems.

Come all ye lost.

In the mists of everything you lack, something haunts you. Desperate to stay above water, you grab on to anything around you, but what you find escapes and with it your hope.


Oh well.

More expectations.

I wish there was a way to write that would include no effort but would have maximum attainment of expression. I just want to be able to start typing and exactly how I feel could just flow out, no risk of not being understood, no risk of finding or creating things that I might take too close to my heart.

I feel the strangest type of discontentment at the moment. I almost feel afraid of it, but not. Its calmly digging in, its not here to stay, I don't think, but it still feels dangerous, yet productive. I've been thinking the most beautiful thoughts.

I wonder how many people are actually interested in reading this, even if its not even one person, I guess I'm good enough. I'll have to be. Recently, theres been this urge in me to be heard, I want to show people this. I want to see people's this. Not many people do it the way I want them to, but they still do it well. Just not my way. Maybe I just think I'm too much an authority in what is a good way to do things. I mean I guess maybe there is no right or wrong way. Advectives are so fucked sometimes, in my opinion. My opinion doesn't really matter too much, but I'll keep trying to express it the best I can.

So what is the point of the truth? I don't know, it just seems the right path for me. I can't understand lying about the big things at times, so I condemn it. At times I condemn my self, so why do I see others condemning me as such a bad thing? Well maybe not too too bad, but I can dwell, I am obsessive.

These thoughts were not those which I wanted to share. Damn mechanics of my life. The things which passed through my mind a few minutes ago were so honest, to the point of cutting to the depth of my heart. This is just slightly under the surface area. I am disappointed in one way, pleased in another.

I really miss Automm, she really has gained my respect. I've been feeling very distant from things lately. I've been dreaming of just the right kind of interaction, I just don't know how to ask for it. Maybe someday it'll happen, but it won't be planned. Maybe I'll force it, maybe that'll ruin it or it might be just what I need.

I thought 'I can't' today. It wasn't so bad, maybe even healthy. Perhaps we'll find out.

Verdicts.

Well I guess I feel alone right now. I know I'm being silly and could probably end the feeling if I wanted to, but life becomes so much more entertaining when you dwell on negative thoughts.
I'm a masochist. A serious mental masochist. I rarely think I'm good enough. It feels as if all my confidence is just a facade sometimes, a defense mechanism. Well some of it I know it, some of it is outlandish and childish. When I fight with people I don't think they realize I know myself better than they do. Its really no use repeating things I already tell myself, my world doesn't end. I guess I maybe did need the toughening. Petty remarks don't reach me and I'm done not doing anything about people attacking me. I hope I don't come across as a bitch or do anything rash. The two statements I just said don't go together very well. Thinking it through may either be a rationilaztion for incoherency in my own mind and the world around me, or it may prove to find a fact. (Maybe both.) Sometimes the facts just don't matter like I think they should, that isn't to say they don't matter, just not how my expectations figure.
I screw myself over slightly often. Maybe its just learning. Today feels weird. I think it may be due to the fact that I've been getting closer to certain people and drawing away from others. In my need to fix myself, which may or may not prove needed or wise or useful, I have started to slowly change. I wonder if anyone besides me notices. As I journey on, I really don't want to hurt anyone as I go about life, but I feel as if I am at a point where I just can't consider anything outside of certain things. I feel like in order to maintain the humanity within myself it will always be that way. Closed minded and open minded are such confusing terms. I don't have a verdict on them, nor do I think I ever will.