too much conflict. too much optimism and too much
pessimism. feelings of purposelessness increasing. ambition
strangely increasing. regret of not starting earlier
increasing. regret of myself decreasing. nonconformist
passion increasing. laziness increasing. mental psyche
development increasing. effort to attempt hypothesese
decreasing. love for music increasing. misanthropism
increasing. isolation increasing. charisma increasing.
repression ability increasing. fear of meds increasing.
love decreasing. self mutilation decreasing.
anyway, its hard to find a place to fit right now. not a
lot of situations i can put myself in that i feel
comfortable and relaxed. there's always one part of my
brain that is being tortured. at least im feeling a lot
less conformist now. with the ability to repress better, i
can reject the mainstream with less pressure. still in
complete conflict whether or not to be a computer
programmer or a writer/director. time is slipping. i wish i
could just be happy with myself. i tried emailing a letter
to my church about my omnipresent guilt and regret, and for
some reason, their email address was invalid, so im going
to take that as a sign not to try to reach out to them. my
ears and arse are getting really itchy. i guess im not
going through depression so much as im going through
confusion. but the confusion is starting to piss me off. i
wish i played an instrument. i wish i was invisible. i wish
id stop writing in lyrics or poet form. o well, thats how i
think. id say im a decent enough linguist when im talking
to myself, but when i actually try to speak, the words come
out all strange. i never reach my potential. if i ever want
to become a political activist, i should at least try to
have more charisma. o well, military day is coming up. i
can at least pass out pamhplets, flyers, and post up
posters without having to really converse with anyone. ill
let the words speak for themselves. i wouldn't mind living
alone. that guy who wrote requiem for a dream, can't
remember his name, but he said that he was a lot like me,
lazy, didn't do much, and then he came very close to death,
and his biggest fear was that he had wasted his life. i
assume this is a common fear for most people when near
death. he recovered, and wrote some spectacular literature.
maybe all i need is a near death experience. i depend on
fate way too much. you never really hear too much about
people recovering from attempted suicide and writing great
works, its usually people write great works, then its
suicide. maybe i just assume too much. if i knew why i was
here, maybe i wouldn't be so lazy. i think its that i
believe too much in the standstill theory. i thought of it
years ago, and i guess it stuck in my subconscious. i ought
to disprove it. i mean, what's wrong with trying to make
someone happy? ok, well, it spoils them. everything else
will have a lesser effect. ok, now thats too mechanical.
people aren't like that. remember, the pattern, its all
about patterns. shit, whenever i breakthrough into my
pattern mode, i get amnesia. i never rememeber the pattern
mode. its this strange mindset i get into when i comprehend
the pattern/layer/equation into one formula, then it gets
too hard for me to retain, and i forget all about it.
maybet this is what im waiting for... ive always wanted to
be an amnesiac... forget all my sins and mistakes...
perhaps this evens it out one way or another. the one fact
that i have barely ever doubted: this will all come
together in one beautiful surreal picture. everything is
connected, my life is truly literature, symbols, themes,
everything happens for a reason, it will all make sense one
day. though im still unsure where exactly i stand in this,
timewise. am i just beginning, almost over, will it really
take off when i find mercury, or will it end then? maybe it
will come together on my death bed, when i reach salvation.
i do know that enlightenment will come. if i can progress
this far as a teenager, i konw as an adult it will pick up.
maybe this is my early start. all great artists started
young, whether its poetry, painting, music, etc. maybe my
mind itself, developing these things beyond the idea of an
idea itself... or i could be a schizotypal half-retarded
otaku computer junkie. who can really tell... ill find my
purpose... that truly is my purpose: to find my purpose...
there, by utilizing a psuedo-pattern mindset, ive giving my
life meaning, for the time being. we'll see if it
deteorates, or if it holds on. the purpose of purpose, i
can live with that... too corny? meh...