I'm sick right now. Not so much physically, as mentally. Everything feels so wrong when the outside is already healed and the inside left raw. I'm just a tad crazy, I'll admit it. I think too many things for my own better judgement and hurt everything else and hide in every place even when there's no need. My right eye is bruised. Literary. When I look right or left I can feel the purple start to swell in pain, though the pain is just tiny, isn't that the same as the importance of a pinkie? The Japanese have a small little well-known myth sort of thing that your pinkie has an invisible red string attached to it, and at the other end is your soul mate. So what is the importance of a pinkie? What is the importance of a bruised eye? What is this, directions from your English teacher? On a piece of paper? Why am I thinking of school when it's spring break? I want to break something. Don't you ever feel like that? That story from five years ago. I still haven't written it yet. I keep renewing the beginnings. Did you know you can figure a persons personality by simply going through their trash? Am I simply a plagiarizer? Or a "Borrower"? I write my own things, however the ideas are always altered by something that does not belong to me. Am I really an individual? I'll just keep quiet and listen for now.
Though....
I still am unprepared to meet it. Though I can't see how I appear to others, I know that person is a fake. Impersonators really get through just to get accepted. I'm a hypocrite, but I can't help but hate that candy for the exact same thing I do. So how come so many people are behind me, but I'm all alone? I promised I would remember everything when I was smaller. But I've already forgotten. You could never understand that persons position in things, and ....perception. I still speak in forgotten code, hey, can you hear it? From that invisible door behind you? Someone you once knew is trying to bang out, but although you pity them, they are dangerous. You could never open all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle. The final picture is too frightening. So you go on, creating pieces that don't even fit, but you hope they will in the future. Yet you know that's a lie. Everything you meet and are could be a lie.
Maybe...
The past will not repeat, I will have to stop that river with winter. I will block it with ice, and travel all the way over it to the other side. Though there's no such thing as greener on the other side, it will at least be a change. Will I leave that person behind, or become the same? Does it even matter? I have a mission to find the other one. I am constantly stepping front and back. Most are sideways. I love darker stories. They hold more truth, but that truth is made from a lie. So who are you? Answer me quickly, don't keep me there all day. Just to get the most basic frame of your lines. You'll never get to the middle, after-all. Salty water perhaps holds the answer, but it's undrinkable. My Fiction Nonfiction will not turn the knob until it disintegrates. Can you see it? You don't want to repeat this do you? Well, I'll tell you something. If you stay where you are, you'll be left behind. Very Violet Vapor. Studying something you can't understand the basics of. How fun. The best sarcasm is when you make in indistinguishable from normality, or so I thought. Will you play hide and seek with me?
I...
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