this little turtle
i find myself longing once again for anonymity.
don't get me wrong. i am no popular turtle in the sea. but
i do find myself drawing further and further back into my
shell. sometimes i try. i try to come out. i try to be
friendly. but it feels oh so wrong...
i have been writing. writing like mad. writing like hell. i
find myself wishing for a paintbrush. wishing to splatter
the white walls around me with paint. i wish to come up
with a masterpiece.
but it's all so boring. boring. nothing but boring. all
these people trying to be significant. all these people
trying to show off how many friends they have. all these
people exuding confidence. and i find that they're all
display your talents. display your power. display your
wealth. display your beauty. be vibrant. be alive. be what
fuck me. it's all so crazy.
ironic. told to be the smartest of all...and to be the most
insecure of all.
selfishness. i don't wish to place myself in a world where
people think only of themselves.
i was not born to make money. i was not born to be famous.
i was not born to tell people about christianity. i was
born...to be one with those that most turn a blind eye to.
i was born...to support the oppressed...even if sometimes,
it doesn't make sense.
my solitude. i want to be alone. i want a cigarette. and i
want to fly.