. its almost comical in its own way that the world is the way it is. i go to work in the morning, intent on having a good day, and actually succeeding in the most insignificant way, only to have my eyes open to other things. seeing through the illusion of assumed knowledge is the key to one's goal. there are the unmotivated who, in all honestly, have simply not been given enough chance to spread their proverbial wings and try to be other than what was labeled them. such labels, i've noticed have been, quite laughably the center of the "open-minded" universe. if you're open-minded then suddenly the only way to truly prove such claims is to be against all labels and whatnot. this, while quite possibly true in its own insignificant little way has nothing to do with being truly open minded.

the doors cannot be closed simply because of dislike. one must be able to embrace almost any ideal, no matter how out of focus, or in some cases, out of fashion it might be to the rest of the world. of course, it is always easy to be open minded when one's likes are in those genres whose very existence are shunned by the waking, walking, breathing world. but such joys will soon die if nothing is done. the world will moan and die, rotating in slow decreasing circles. ages will go by, hours blending into eternity, until none of are left but a revered memory of what used to be. such an odd notion, and perhaps it has its own supporting snippets of truth. i just speak of what i see.

i see a form of autism that was never even noted, how such silence could lead others to believe arrogance or prick, simply because of the unphased manner held within. yet, i've seen him laugh. i've seen laughter and joy, things that are held high in half baked ideals. yet, i've seen her bleed, and cry. there are always those darkest moments in the mind where things appear to be so opaque, so shrouded and thick that there mustn't be a thought other than death.  

instead of rambling on, i will leave you with one thought. does the secret you carry in your heart, burden the happiness you wish to carry on your shoulders?

the same song is reeling through my head, unstoppable, uncaring. worse, its only one refrain, and its going to drive me insane, if of course, that hasn't already happened. perhaps i've joked in the past, but this time, i'm having my doubts on my sanity. should one think the same exact thought repeatedly, unable to stop it? should one wish so very hard to speak of things on one's mind, and yet clam up whenever the situation presents itself. i live off of this internal drama, subconsciously making decisions that alter my life in the worst ways.

of the things i've figured out, perhaps i should keep quiet, but i've grown weary of holding all of it inside. and yet, now, my fingers freeze upon the keyboard, unable to speak of these things. of the simple things, of the simple pleasures i could probably scream, but of the darker, insidious ones, there are very few to whom i'd speak. and even then, there are truly none. i don't know if i could tell even the closest of companions my serious doubt.

self doubt seems to come in many forms. and everytime, like the loser in some catastrophic battle i slink away, hiding from the truth, only to emerge then it truly does not matter.

i had a heartfelt talk with one of my friends on an impending decision on an unfortunate conclusion. that i may be depressed is one thing, that the discussion spoke of "where do i come from" quite another that jolted my mind. we clicked, in some odd poisonous way. of the place that we come from, it took on many different meanings, from one's birth place, from one's parents, to situations, religions and points of view. for once in my life i tried to understand myself, instead of understanding someone else. and it was painful. there were many things i didn't want to see, many things i could speak of that had never been spoken of before. that those will remain ambiguous is a matter of course.

trust is a faulty thing, but i refound trust. he cursed me to live, when for a few moments i thought of all that i wanted to die. its a peculiar thing, friendship, how excuses are made and things undone. i found that instead of disconnecting from people, i forced myself past the barrier of comfort, and the friendship warped. so suddenly, it changed. it took me by surprise. there was a level of intimacy that can only be derived from a shared horror, and we exchanged stories that night, of fears and experiences, of descriptions and honesty. of everything, i was honest. i spoke to him of things i never admitted to myself, and surprised to know that he often felt the same way.

it was something else, to just see and not to fear the judgement that i knew should be in someone's eyes. he told me, to live. and i suppose i am. in my very twisted way.

he also gave me a muffin and a big jar of peanut butter lol.

i really should start using this more ... its such a convenient way to expose the stupidity of humanity, even if no one looks at it.

I Hate People.

i think i always will. my parents still think they have to right to push me around, demanding things i don't even need to mention. that level of freedom i've never had, has now grown tighter, a thick rough rope that just tightens around my neck.

no one is listening.

yes, yes. those who know me are going to say "of course i listen to you." bullshit. the only time you ever listen to me is when i'm fucking pissed. we're never going to mention the fact that i'm pissed is because you weren't listening. no, never mention that shit. i know i'm fucked up, its easy to accept, for its the truth. but people you can't keep pushing me. i'm going to break soon. you expect me to meet you all the way so you don't have to fucking move, and then when i ask a simple thing, when i never ask for anything, you nod and smile. silly stupid me. i believe you. then what happens? the drop. its like a  rock. nothing works out like it should. every one falls away. yes, thank you i see how much you listen.

and you who read this, don't start thinking you're exempt from this. you all do it. its human courtesy to fulfill one's promises. unless your held back by death then you're bound to follow through. you're all pieces of shit, its what the world has come to. violence i can deal with. lies i can understand. death, that's natural. its the human perversion, the utter failure to communicate that kills me everytime, its the thing that has me precariously balanced on the edge of a chair, the rope biting into my throat. and each time you kick the chair out from under me. every single fucking time.

go ahead and take advantage of me, in the end, its all i'm good at.

i hate being used.

the roleplay with Darkfighter000 has started again, and frankly, its a little exciting. i haven't roleplayed a good character [with the exception of Forbidden Silence and Fay] for some time, and even then, those two had been wolves.

there really isn't much else to say about the inferiority of life at this moment. i'm out of high school, and that minor schism of hell has finally been finished. but now the unending summer which i wish would finish and never end. working two jobs has only added to my serious anecdote about shit hitting the fan. i think i might start writing a story on here, but that might conflict with the current one i'm writing on the side. its pretty good considering. i might even post it up some time ... but i doubt it ... i'm a little lazy that way.