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1.12.09
encyclopedia cathartica.
so. what am i supposed to do now?
what do i want? shit, what do i even like? i dont know. i feel like ive liked the same stuff for so long that it feels old and it feels like i should change. did i know myself before? do i not know myself now? maybe i do still know myself, but i keep thinking i'm wrong? shit.
maybe im stressed. by whole body itches with a current like i can't be in my own skin. i scratch myself but i weal at my own nails. i cry but i turn red at the touch of my tears, salty acid on the delicate skin on my browns and cheeks. allergic to my own hair. for fuck's sake.
what is my talent?
what is my ambition?
what is my greatest need?
i don't even know. maybe im onl stressed because of this huge burden i put upon myself, the burden of all knowledge the burden of self-saviour and self direction. the burden of forcing myself to know. the burden of movement.
always tired.
always awake.
always talking and kissing and watching and walking and polishing and doing make up and dressing and eating and reading and cleaning and never stopping so i don't think about what the fuck im going to do now. next. never stop so the big not knowing comes crashing down over me like a giant blackness in the sky over my car on the motorway, like a huge wave of silvery greeny brown, torn and ripped and textured with weight and vastness and the diabolical chaos of nature, studded with shining fish and splinters of boats where minds before mine have sailed and sank into the dark, cold, wet depths of monotony.
everything around me sometimes feels so dull. not bleak but just nothing just flat and shit like a wad of sugar paper. some little lives just stuck in a cardboard tube of going-nowhere. my boyfried, my dad my firned everyone i work with no one around me knows what they want. they just are doing things because theyre easy. know what they like, dont know what theyd like to be. fleeting moments of clarity, of outlandish dreams. dreams for children who dress in their mothers shoes and their fathers jumpers, playing at being unstoppable before those big fat waves and clouds and all the other piece of shit analogies ad metaphors and similies you can think of. shit you were taught in school. pathetic fallacy.
i just. usually i find myself an answer i doing this is spewing out my thoughts and pains. but just. i just can't.
whispered by killa b at 1:06 AM |
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