Make fun of me.

Here's a list of things that people could possibly make fun of me for:

- I'm a vegetarian
- I'm cross-eyed
- I'm really awkward
- I live in a swamp
- I don't have my license
- I've done dumb things
- I'm not religious or spiritual in anyway
- I'm kinda a feminist
- I don't workout that often
- Sometimes I wear ugly things and am not aware of it until later on in life
- I was an ugly kid and still am
- I'm into arts in university... so I'm not smart in the eyes of the science people!
- I can never make decisions for myself, I usually screw up
- I try and usually fail in hilarious ways
- I can't argue very well
- I make pitiful lists like this
- I get lost in the past
- I don't make friends easily
- I'm confused about what I'm doing in my life

My mom would say that all these things are what the perfect man would love about me... but that's my mom.

Anyways, this all started because I'm an idiot and I looked at my ex's blog. I cried so much I actually threw up.... I know eh? Never happened before. He wrote something about talking to his mom about me and laughing about me and our relationship. It hurt a lot. After all, our relationship wasn't laughable. It was great. I loved spending time with him and I thought he did too. Maybe he's just writing these things to help him get over me, to not care anymore. I think that's the worst way to live. Why should you forget all the great moments in your life? Why should you destroy what made you who you are and what made you happy once?

I wouldn't care if he was dating someone else, I care so much that all the good memories of our relationship are laughable to him. That I am worthless.

I can't establish this enough, I am so fucking self-conscious I think I might be insane.

Driving No Where Any Time Soon

So, I had an eye doctors appointment on Tuesday. I found out that I can't drive... I might need a CATs scan done on my brain because my eyes have not improved since I was five. Then after I get that done I need to get laser eye surgery again. And maybe after all of this some divine miracle will happen and my eyes will stop being so screwy. I think I have a brain tumor... lmao I've thought that it was a problem since I read a book which was talking about some guy who had double vision and migraines = brain tumors. Sort of scared me a little. It sucks completely.

Bipolar....the Creative Disease?

I believe this to be true in most cases. Artists analyze every part of their human mind. In the end they can see everything. Knowledge is not technically power when you learn to hate those who walk day to day without a single thought flying through their minds. They are not alone. We are alone in our own little worlds. We see what they chose not to. We feel the hurt of their ignorance and incompetence when those who bare it pass us by. We lie down and stare up at the sky and describe it in beautiful words to whose who cannot see. They look straight ahead, at the future and refuse to see an end. We tell them that there is, this they ignore. We see the light and the dark and we explore the good and the evil, we learn to love one or the other a little more as they travel the gray. In the end it is us who die lonely and afraid as we put shotguns to our heads. And they die with love around their death beds. We suffer so they can occasionally pick up our hearts and tear through them sucking the life from our words, our memories. We accept the pain it takes to keep our eyes open to make up for the fact that they are blind. You see, the world wants everything to be equal. With life comes death, with knowledge comes ignorance, with healing comes pain, but in the earth we are all the same.

States of Being

Heaven and hell are not places. They are states of being. We walk among you. You are blind. I hope, desperately that this is real. My words will be worth nothing otherwise. How foolish I have been. I've almost lost the fight. There is a boxing ring somewhere filling with my blood. You are rubbing salt in my wounds. My screams are mute. My mouth is closed. You are drinking my pain. Tastes good doesn't it?

Bedtime

The fact is...that you are never truly alone because everything you do will be based on someone else's ideas. It doesn't matter is you work yourself to death trying to be different. Your ideas will have been thought of by another person. You may deem it odd that I am writing at such a young age, but this time is incredibly important since I am very young, therefore ignorant. I cannot write about love or wisdom. I have yet to live. No, now is my time to ask questions. Later, I may find some answers, maybe I wont. Maybe I'll never give up searching. That's what kills us. We are all children 'til the end. Sticky and perverse children. It's your bedtime, in the morning things can be different, as long as you never open your eyes my love. Your barriers will crumble, these walls that have been built, by those you will never know and for a reason you cannot bare to comprehend. But I will let you in on a secret...

they were built to keep these very thoughts out. once they are in, there is no stopping them my dear.

Poems

Here's some weird poems that I wrote in one of my moods:

For the time being, I will be lost amongst you. You will forget.
Forget this life. Life not lived.
Lived without friends. Friends are only enemies in disguise.
Disguise their real self, stab me in the back.
Back to me and my mind. Mind you, it is worth nothing.
Nothing ends with nothing. Nothing lasts forever.
Forever when you are alone. Alone you are gone.
Gone away. Away, so far.
Far from where I am. Am I?
I am lost. Lost for the time being.

Sitting doing everything. Everything eventually ends.
Ends are the result of beginnings. Beginnings are where everything goes wrong.
Wrong again, child, wrong again. Again and again you scream.
Scream and it disappears. Disappears like your existence.
Existence is the state of being. Being alive.
Alive, like your fears. Fears are eating your inside out.
Out damned spot. Spot of your blood on the ground.
Ground floor and it's your stop.

"People who are fake scare me. People who are real scare me more."