I'll practice making scenarios that aren't really there....

I want to feel real tears again. Not the kind spurred by irritated eyes or sharp pain. The kind released when the body feels true emotion. When your heart experiences something so intense and indescribable, that there's no other way of expressing yourself. The kind that fall from your eyes when you've reached rock bottom. Or the kind you feel on your cheeks when you can't possibly get any higher. Happy tears, sad tears, scared tears, anything. I just need a sign that something's still alive in there.
Everything just seems so passe. It's like I can't be phased. Things happen, I take them, and move on. All I do is write, write, write, and nothing ever sinks in. Nothing ever takes hold. Nothing can attach itself to me. Once I find something that causes me to resemble an emotion, I let it go. At the beach the other night (morning?), I found a rock. It was flat and smooth and abused into beauty by the waves. I held it in my hand and felt it grow warm. "I want to keep this rock. Make it mine. Because I like it." And then I tossed it into the receding tide. I let the ocean carry it away. That rock resembled every other aspect of my life. I'll find something that I think I want to keep, and I'll immediately turn my back on it.

They'll diagnose it. 'Figure' me out. Write me down on paper and change my name to a disease. Just like her; she's depressed. Just like him; he's psychotic. The name you were born with is no longer of any importance. Your childhood is non-existent. You have no past. All you have is: here's what you are; this is how you fix it; take these pills; take some more; eat; sleep; (don't let her be alone); take two every four hours; do not operate any motor vehicle; call me in the morning. I'm waiting for the day when you say, "I feel fine," and your doctor says, "Oh, we have pills to help you with that."

You never told me exactly what I mean to you. No one ever has. Is there a point if there's no purpose? I feel like I was put here for other people. Like I don't have a 'self'. I'm not living a life for my own purpose; I'm here for everyone else. It's not a bad thing, don't take it the wrong way (you will). It just seems like if I disappeared into the thin air, I wouldn't feel any loss. This isn't my body, it's yours. This isn't my mind, it belongs to you.
I don't need myself. I don't need to function as a whole. I'll cut myself to pieces and give some of me to everyone. I can be everywhere at once.

Sort of an anticlimax of nineteen years. Implosion. Reversal. Can you finish the whole thing and feel as if you've ended up at the beginning?

I found out what I am. I'm a contradiction. Never the same. Don't make me promise you. Don't think that I'll ever be what you want me to be. I probably won't. But hell, maybe I'll be exactly what you want. I can't count on anything. I don't believe in anything. It's almost as if I don't exist. I don't think I can teach anyone anything. How can you learn from someone who's always turning a different colour? Showing a different side?

I know everything, I know nothing. I'm here, I'm miles away. Now you see me, now you don't. I'm solid and connected, I'm liquid and I blow away with the slightest breeze. You see?

I'm everything. I'm nothing.
Forget it.
















"If this is real, then I was mistaken, and if there is truth, then why can't we find it?"
-Bright Eyes