Me.

I often wonder at how the world looks at me. An outcast? I'm just simply living my life with all the problems that every other person has to deal with. A simply personality stuck with a complicated mind. Words don't come as easy to me as i would like them to. Creativity without motivation. It's almost a crime, that I have the power to do anything but I'm yet to find the will. An ongoing state of paranoia is constantly shadowing my every move. No one can know too much about me since i don't even know that much about myself. Most stories I tell and the things I do are not really me. They are the things I imagine myself to be.

So the question really is, who am I? Could I find myself in between all the words I am writing. Are there clues to who I really am? Or maybe living in suburbia for most of my life has fried my brain. So now I am free from that threshold of hell and going on to the things I was never able to do back then.Some of these things are not "good" as most would say but I have found them to be very entertaining.

Drugs have been a large part of my life due to the fact that that the world is place filled with dense, close-minded people I can't stand. People don't listen. In the drug world there is nothing but possibilities. Your world is whatever your mind wants it to be. I'm not saying I do A LOT of drugs but the ones I have done, in the past, have opened my mind to the point that I felt as if the Earth could explode at that point and I would have been content. Almost as if I had found the key to life. I still like to believe I did.

Down sides...
Along with chemicals comes the paranoia. I have developed certain traits throughout my experiences that has made me not normal. I now have to deal with symptoms that were previously nonexistent. I think its a fair trade off, the answer to life for hallucinations, delusions, lack of motivation, extreme paranoia, and lack of certain emotion traits. Don't you think?

Love in chemicals.

BLOGGING sucks

I've never quite written a blog. I don't think I understand their point. To me a blog I yet another form of exploitation of oneself. A way to write down the ideas you have about anything just so you are limited on your expression by the words themselves. Share any thought you might have to the world and get a simple reply, share an expression of how you feel by means of art and get a plethora of different understandings of what you feel. Words are the most limiting factors in expression. If blogging wasn't part of a school assignment I doubt I would ever type up my own little day-to-day sob story. Who really cares? I know I don't.

Blogs also remind me of desperation for attention. I dislike the fact that when I go on to youtube the first thing I see are video blogs. Who in their right mind would sit there and listen to complete strangers talk about how their new birth control is working for them or how well they look naked in the mirror after working out in a gym? Who would want to read all the stupid things on my mind? I doubt my friends would even care to listen to all my crazy ideas. Heck I don't even like listening myself think I can only imagine what a voice to my thoughts.

The whole world would find itself looking over any of my blogs and not thinking twice on clicking the home button on their window or closing the screen all together. Nothing that I have to say is important. Nothing about politics, the wellness of animals, genetic mutations, or chemical warfare. It would most likely be about how unaffected I am by society and how nothing really matters as long as you're happy. Thats what life is about. SCREW EVERYTHING ELSE JUST DO WHAT COMES NATURAL.

Who ever wants to read this good luck. My audience is myself. I do this blog for myself, “expressing my freedom of speech”. My freedom of speech to say screw society, screw what anyone says, and screw anyone who asks me to change who I am. This is me and how I write enjoy it.

Contradictory.