"...party and there's.."
"...go see a movie about.. . o'clock with.."
"...going on between us so..."
" ...-eed to get out more, i ..."
bla bla bla.
petty but not nice
stop telling me i need it
absent from all minds.
and i wonder, now, who am i trying to impress? carbon
lights that no one can see
with these entries, i make a definition for myself. must keep filling things out. standing watch until the sun will rise, screaming to an emptiness just take it as it comes, fill out your days, wait until the fateful inevitable change; oh how i wish i could make it come about on my own. things i rely upon; i dislike it, but am only aware now that my need for independence could possibly just be a result of this society. too many things are already. i heard myself screaming to myself, childish tantrum, that i wish i had some money. betray the instincts in our race i only wanted things that everyone else had.
alternate, alternate, alternate. i am trying to impress, god dammit. this solitude [self-inflicted? coping mechanism?] isn't so bad but it's hard knowing i'm seemingly the only one who does it.
i could sit and rant about passions, but no one would listen, because we're deaf to hearing things too much. it means nothing in repitition. though redundancy is the base point in the [supposedly] highest form of art. artistry means nothing to survival; of this i am aware and ashamed. hang your head, dear. cheer up, don't cry. pink on cheeks and immature decor; i know who you are. the darkness is our game.