Tuesday, 10 January 2012

I'm confused - quite often.
I find it interesting that a lot of the people i'm close to - family, friends often see me as a source of definition;
Someone who can be succint.
I think some of them are learning.
It's weird that confusion is such a definite word.
It's a word that speaks volumes that are often left unheard.
Sometimes I hate myself and
To be honest, I think that's human.
I don't think I could imagine any one person being perfect - that having been said I did once.
I try not to come across as self-loathing or attention-seeking, but
In the same respect it's weird that to acheive that sort of status takes quite an ego.
To put information about yourself out there in such a way as to grab the attention you believe you deserve - clearly you
value yourself to a certain degree?
Possibly even a higher one than you could've imagined originally?
I guess you could say art to me is a cathartic experience, but
Sometimes it's painful.
Sometimes I try to be what I am not, often what I cannot.
I get jealous very easily. And i self-indulge FAR too much in my own mind.
That can be dangerous.
The simplicity of the notepad is a beautiful one.
Empty space that gets filled with clear text.
Almost makes the words seems deserved. Worth something. like one day people will look at them and get a sense of
who you are.
Strange that words cannot do that.
Or can they?
Do they tell MORE of a story?
Type IS definitive. It is black on white. It is proof. It is there. Even as I delete mistakes, I go back over what was.
Slightly erractic topic-switching here, but i guess that's proving my original point.
Interesting that it was completely unintentional. Maybe I know myself better than I'd thought.

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