Etc.

I think I've lost my ability to absorb. To take in new information. I'm so set in my ways I've suddenly gone from being such an open accepting person to this shut down closed off stone. I no longer need compassion to see past the words that someones using to see into the meaning of what they're saying. Or to see their intentions, good or bad, pure or corrupt. Whatever.
I've lost it. And I'll look at the people around me, and no matter how I try to look with different eyes, these are still my eyes. My only means of viewing the world through a lens. And because I am so set in my ways, I never need any understanding to try and see why someones acting the way they are. I just need my knowledge and experience... right? Or at least that's what everyone thinks.
I refuse to accept and believe that there is a certain point when we lose the ability to understand one another, and think not only of ourselves, but of the world around us.
I refuse to believe that we are all lost to our own minds.
I refuse.

I talk like I know already, and maybe I do. But I can't tell just yet. It needs time, time, time, everything needs fucking time. Why do I have to put it off? and wait? Is there a perfect moment to take the chance I want to take? And If there is, how would I know? Because I never knew before, and I certainly don't now. But I've felt this before, meeting someone like me. It's exciting, a mirror image of myself doing the same things I do.
Its frightening. I can barely be around me, and having another one of me... it's too much. It wont work, work, work.

[untitled]

I do not know. I am to focused on that. The idea that I don't know something, something that has to do with me. I still think about it. I can't help myself, I still want something specific, but I don't have the courage to say what.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I'll screw it up. I can already tell, but I don't want to. I want to not screw this up, because I'm so damn good at screwing everything else up.
But I know it wont make me happy. I can already tell. It'll make me happy for now, and no matter what I do I'll keep thinking of that other thing. It's temporary happiness, and I don't want it to be like that.
I might not know what the hell I want, fine, but I sure as hell know what I DONT want. And that is not it.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I'm doing it again. That thing I love to do. Just question everything, or assume things and I probabily wouldn't be in this mess if I didn't do that all the time. I just can't keep my
damn
mouth
dfkldjgkl

[untitled]

I can't stop asking these questions of myself and everything around me. I can't stop questioning every move I make and what signifigance it has. Or why I keep on moving. Or why I exist at all.
And maybe I should get out of my own head sometimes. I try. But the doors are always locked and it's like I'm trapped. I am not sad. I am not depressed. I am not anything. Confused maybe if I had to put a word to it.
I can't put words on any of it. I. I. One little vowell represents to much. Me. It. Her. I.
I've lost track of myself. And I can't find her. And it makes me want to cry. I feel lost, and alone. Like when you're in the supermarket with you're parents and you lose them and there's that sinking feeling that you'll never be found again and you start to freak out. That's where I'm at.
This life is what I make it. This life is what I make it. This life, is what I make it. This, Life, is what I make it. This life is, what? I make it. This life is what... I... make it?
These words have to be true. They've got to be true. They must be true. And they can't be. I feel this pressure to become. Not anything specific but to just... grow into myself. Be successful. Contribute to society. participate Participate PARTICIPATE
It's like gravity is pushing me down and smashing my spine. And my brain is going to start oozing out of my ears.
I know. I think too much. I know I know I know. But I can't stop this all. I can't stop time, it's getting away from me and I'm just sitting here. I am just sitting here.
I'm missing something.
I've
got
to be.

[untitled]

Shut your mouth, use your brain.
And why do you have to always be so damn abrasive?
I love making friends, I do, but I can't just be someone who's not me. And maybe by acting however I was acting I'm acting so characteristically not me.
But then who is me really?
and who gets to say?

[untitled]

Are there coincidences? Just little glimpses of a chance to do something, or to change, and we have that moment to decide what we want to do: play it safe or let go. Or are these instances something greater? Part of some master plan to the universe?

If I think the latter, I'm being conceited. Conceited in thinking that in a place as large as the world, and the universe, the cosmos would be concerned enough to have a hand in what I do.
If I think the former, then inevitibly we are alone.

[untitled]

We are in this battle, between ourselves and the universe. We want to believe that every deicision we make, good and bad, will somehow play some big role in the universe's end game, but what if it doesn't. What if we just all float around together on this giant rock for absolutely no reason, just to be eventually blown up by our star in like a gagillion billion years from now? Maybe I am conceited, and selfish. I feel like I have to exist for a reason beyond just existing and coexisting.

Its like we're all in a play, but to each one of us we're the main character. Like I am the lead in my own play. I am the brains behind it and the director, and my play happens to intersect with others plays but its plot is in no way defined by anyone elses. And outside of all these little plays there is a bigger play which inherently means that in a little minute way we are a part of this large play, but in no way are we any sort of major role.

Or maybe the universe only exists to be observed, right? And so that's our purpose, to observe the great everything. And without someone to observe the universe, what is it's purpose of existing? Maybe that's selfish, and maybe it's stupid and naive to believe that somehow all the bad things and bad people somehow have to exist and happen in order to play out in the larger scheme of things. But I can't just sit here and think that I have no purpose. That I was just flung into existence to exist and end.