"Me? I don't care too much about the looks. I want an incisive, inquisitive, insightful, irreverent mind. I want someone for whom philosophical discussion is foreplay. I want someone who sometimes makes me go ouch due to their wit and evil sense of humor. I want someone that I can reach out and touch randomly. I want someone I can cuddle with. I decided this all means that I am sapiosexual."

Rediculous

I remember when I was little I was absolutely fearless, I’d do anything, talk to anybody, damn the consequences I was gonna do what the fuck I felt like doing. What happened to that girl? Where’d she go? Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, in the reflection of my glasses, standing in the doorway of a closet in my mind screaming her head off at me, “Just do it, stupid-head!” But there’s always someone bigger there to step in front of her & say, “Don’t listen to her. She’s just gonna get you hurt. What if something bad happens?” I often wish there was someone else in there, someone that would hand little me a blunt object so she could beat the bigger one about the head, tell it to shut the hell up, & go on running my brain with an iron fist & a frilly dress.

Who the hell is that bigger kid, bully bastard in my head anyway? Sometimes I think it’s my mom, sometimes my dad, but most of the time I think it’s just all the millions of fears I’ve accumulated over the years manifesting themselves into one gigantic world-phobia, plotting to slowly gain more & more fears until that’s all I am, just a big ball of fear, curled up in a ball in my closet refusing to ever leave for fear of, well, fear.

If anyone’s actually reading this you’re probably either thinking I’m completely insane, or dumb as a mountain of shit. Well, I assure you I am quite possibly both, or neither, but slowly driving myself insane from the sheer fact that I can’t stop thinking. You’re thinking, “If you know what’s wrong with you, & what’s causing it, why don’t you just fix it, dipshit?” or maybe that’s just what I’m thinking.

I wish I knew how to fix it. I wish I could just push a button in my brain, & knock out all my fears, or at least my most inhibiting ones. Fear of rejection, that’s my worst one, a lot of my problems stem from that, & my stupid need to be accepted despite proclaiming to not care what others think of me.

Honestly, how many people who say they don’t care what other people think, really don’t care? Not many at all. I believe there are a few, those amazing few people that honestly couldn’t care about anyone’s opinion of themselves but their own, those few people who are happy, because they are beyond the judgement of the rest of the world. The few that know that the reason people judge other people is just to make themselves feel better, because they’re afraid of how other people are judging them, they see that awful vicious cycle that the rest of us have buried ourselves so deep into that we don’t even know what light looks like anymore, let alone are we able to see a tiny sliver of it to find our way out. & why is it that while I'm one who recognizes this, I'm not one who is above it?

I have gotten better about my meak-ness in the past year, I can talk to total strangers with quite a bit more ease, though not if it’s an important stranger, like say, a potential employer, in that case I clam-up all over again & destroy any chances of getting that job because they think that’s how I’ll be with customers as well. I can openly discuss things I never could before (sex, emotions, dreams, the kind you have at night, as well as those for the future, thoughts I’m not sure others would understand because I’m not even sure I understand them myself), but only with certain people, people that I’m absolutely positive either won’t reject me & my thoughts, or if they do it won’t hurt as badly as if it were someone else.

I suppose there's progress being made, perhaps I only need to be pushed off the edge of change to really finish the job. The problem is, I obviously can't be the one doing the pushing. Somebody's gonna have to sneak up behind me & just shove me. Odd, a question I keep asking myself, why is it that I have so much trouble talking to people, actually verbalizing my thoughts & letting people hear them, but I have no problem sitting here & typing them out for anyone in the world to see? & as I was typing the question, my answer became clear, because my thought process is so long & convaluted, very few people will read this, so I've gotten everything off my chest, & told the world, but the world wasn't really listening, so I don't have to worry about their rejection.

Heart Stutter

Her eyes search the ground nervously for something to focus on as her sneakered feet kick at the dirt & her hands move restlessly bundled in the buttom of her wrinkled shirt, & she chews on her bottom lip while she tries to remember how to articulate things other people seems to find so easy to just blurt out.

Yeah, That’s Great, But Where’s My Femur?

A comic:



& a link:

Possibility Girl - The story of my life, written by a boy...

Real post later...

Just Like in That Movie...

Bring your pen, bring your heart
Take my hand,
I've got my camera, & we've got endless options,
We're going on an adventure.

We'll dress like bums & see who gives us change,
Use it all on coffee & cigarettes,
& make up lives for the world around us,
While we sit at a little table & pretend to be moody & pretentious.

We can dress up all sophisticated & visit art galleries,
& make up lives for ourselves,
Where we can be rich & buy one painting from every room,
While we pretend to be snooty art critics that call everyone else pretentious.

We'll disguise ourselves as hippies, & go frolicking though a meadow,
& watch how all our lives are nothing but beauty,
While we pretend to be kids & dance in the rain, we don't even know the meaning of pretentious.

We can wear nothing but pajamas, & lay around my room,
& dream of lives we've led before,
& muse about the lives in fiction that we love,
While we pretend we have no problems & we would never dream of being pretentious.

& I'll capture it all through a lens,
& you capture it all in ink,
& tomorrow we'll wake, & be ourselves once again,

& I'll make you breakfast,
& you'll nurse your coffee,
& we'll smile slyly at each other over our night of other lives,
& off to work we'll go, with no one any the wiser.

Brought to You by the Letter "E"

“It looks really cool until it fades though, almost like a scar.”

She spoke as a dreamer does, believing that scars are what life is made of, while knowing her body didn’t hold nearly as many as it should to prover her theory, but fearing a time when it may.

She lived her life through books & song lyrics & the parts of movies that haunt you forever. She became the people she watched & read & sang along in the car about, a small childish part of her hoping this would be the only way she’d ever endure life.

But life was coming at at her with ever increasing speed & a bigger part of her sensed that soon her innocence would be lost like so many memories of her childhood already were & she would have to grow up & really face the cold hearted truths of the world without a first person narrative assuring her that in the end all would be happily ever after.

It was times like these, when she wandered into these thoughts, that she longed most for days when Kermit the Frog was her best friend & everyone she knew believed, as she still did, that someday they really would find the rainbow connection.