late nights and loud fights
it's all just a blur

7:11 p.m. | 2005-06-08
Deep Seeded Dissatisfaction

It's really easy to tell when my mind is running at full pace and my heart and body just can't keep up.

All you have to do is look at the floor around me.

Over the years I've begun to realize it and thus try to stamp it out, and use it more as a "warning sign" but every time I get a little flustered and pressed I start to get messy. But I take that back. In my actions I am a very messy person. I do things in messy manors. But usually I quite promptly pick up the mess I've made and continue on. It's when I get over-used and tired that I don't.

For some reason the past three days (whilst not go go go) have been terribly draining. I've talked with so many new people it's both invigorating as well as just plain tiring.

I do this when I go on a quest for myself.

I am plagued once again with that theory of how to describe oneself to another person. Should one let their actions show for their true being? Or are they too many people to explain? Do you mention those quirky things you do only sometimes, or just the big ones that you do always?

I began to think of what I am. I am a music lover. I love peanut m&m's, but only about 7 at a time. I want to be artistic, desperately. I've never lit a cigarette with anything but a small orange bic lighter. I align myself with people who are older than I am. I am cold hearted and incredibly loving. Pansies make my heart flutter. Even if I could wear leather pants, I wouldn't.

Which things mean anything? I know that music is one of the most important things in my life. I also know I'll cry if I want to smoke but can't find my lighters.

I'm sitting on the floor in the middle of my room looking up at my screen. I'm listening to Death Cab for Cutie and thinking about what means anything and why I'm doing any of this right now. I'm wearing jeans two sizes too big and a heart two sizes too small. I still smell like coffee. I want to think so bad but I've been without inspiration for so long. I keep pushing my finger into my ankle. I can't feel it at all. I can look out one window and see the bright blue sky and soft clouds of summer; out the other are some darker more moist clouds, flat and evil looking bringing back the angst I've felt for a while.

I am drama.

ante / comment / post