What would it take to make a women like you
Like a wolf like me for what I really might be
Listening to the lyrics, only here's what I allow
You gotta try and make me testify for here and right now
Lets have a confrontation over a cold one
I'll give you conversation just to see if you can hold em
I play so dumb
Because I know some of these star struck small talk art fucks is no fun
The following was written as it came and fairly unedited, so it's a little jumpy and such (i happen to think in blocks).
(i just saw a commercial that was proudnay, giddyof the fact that their product was 99% real egg... and one percent....? eew.)
It's actually startling how rare a personal journal entry finds it's way into my journal; i'm not talking the not-so-detailed shit i usually throw in, something only hinting at personal decay, but never really exploring that. It's unfortunate that i feel i should edit my journal, but i do. And i'm sick of being funny or whimsical and nice. I'm sick of being so fucking square. I'm sick of being the only person i know with a conscience.
I'm sick of being PC.
I'm sick of being responsible.
But i guess that's just what people expect from me.
Levity.
And, what the hell; making people smile aint all that bad.
Nobody likes a Drama Queen.
Nobody likes a Gloomy Gus.
But, to tell the truth, i dont feel like doing anything. I dont wanna talk, dont wanna hang out. I just wanna lay in my cold bed in my dark room and listen to music whilst smoking.
I've hit upon a neutral day. A day when i just feel numb, and it feels good to feel numb. It feels freeing not to care.
So let's briefly about suicide. And i do mean brief, it's not healthy to dwell upon these things.
This isnt a cry for help or a call for sympathyit's a fact of life. People die. Some people die by themselves (take it either way you want to). I believe everyone thinks about suicide every once inna whileeither that or i happen to run with a rather morbid crew.
So i think about it every now and againit's a viable option. When i do think about it, it's hardly a cause for alarm, i usually get suicidal over bullshit, stupid shit.
I mean, if i ever had real cause to commit suicide i'd prolly kill myself, for what it's worth.
But, generally, i think, Well, you could always, you know, kill yrself...
Yeah, not today. Thanks.
So what keeps me on this earthly plain? Sometimes it's the fact that i dont wanna be one of those cases where the life is interchangeable with the reason. Where it's the music i listened to, or the movies i watched, or the games i played.
Where the life i lead went straight to suicide, i dont want my life taken for granted.
As much as i hate people i also love them. I love how they interact.
Real people, real love.
And i dont wanna hurt the people I'm closest to.
Well...that and i wanna be around for the next Deftones album.
Oh, and the new Tool one as well.
So the great Reset Button will have to wait to be pressed until i have nothing left to give.
Or take.
I'm sick of working, I'm sick of being broke, I'm sick of being high, I'm sick of making plans, I'm sick of starting projects, I'm sick of being anxious.
I'm sick of people and I'm sick of cities and I'm sick of driving and getting lost.
I'm sick of curiosity and I'm sick of being lonely when i didnt wanna be with someone in the first place.
I miss Jen because I'm only where i am because of her. It's been three years and I'm sick of feeling this way.
I'm sick of movies and I'm sick of fantasizing about the same person and I'm sick of masturbation.
I dont kill myself because i wanna make movies, and suicide would be counter productive.
I dont kill myself because I'm not famous enough for anyone to care.
For more personal, oft deep thoughts, Click Here.
I only open up if i see signs of interest. Actual interest, not that fakey I Care shit.
I'm sick of feeling sick every time i think about things.
I'm sick of feeling weak every time i think about her (the metaphorical Her, as in She).
I'm sick of wanting to take a vacation but only having enough money for projects.
I'm sick of being too much of a pussy to do anything alone.
I'm sick of seeking approval.
I was raised a gentleman (so to speak), to be nice to everyoneeven people i dont likebut it's come to my attention that the chicks i go for dont like Gentlemen. 'O cruel irony!
In an attempt to curb my journal post editing of content self-deemed too personal i've written my thoughts down without hesitation, without order.
I'm sick of thinking about everything.
I'm sick of being shy, I'm sick of wanting to be more extroverted, I'm sick of being the way everyone sees me.
I'm sick of lowing my own expectations whilst still keeping up with everyone elses.
I'm sick of being so sensitive and it's only Tuesday, but I'm sick of looking forward to the weekend.
I can remember her, but i dont remember what it was like. I can remember how we started, but not how we got to where we were. The details were mashed up for short-story purposes and novelization.
But i remember being new to it, and i think most people forget what it's like to be new. To feel new.
I'm sick of conforming and conditioning and assimilation, and I'm sick of sticking out.
Coughing up bong hits.
Boop.
Son you know what it is
From the moment that you come over the bridge
And if you don't ride with me
I'm gonna show you some shit
Ima show you where my niggaz stay sure on the mix
Ima show you where the pain and the poetry is
Ghetto young'ns spend a lot of time alone in the crib
BET on the screen, walls and posters of BIG
Hustlers getting dough sitting low on the 6
Blazing up the ambro glow over they wrist
Hop in the game knowing the risk
Still down to load up they clip
Gamblers with hopes of rolling the trip
But when you hear head crack there ain't no rolling again
Snatch the dice and everything you want is going it in
This how it happens, good people, bad habits, diabetics, crack addicts
Asthmatics
Searching for the truth leaping through the holy tablet
The bible, the Q uran, or the ten crack commandments
Speak on it God, What's today's mathematics
The five day forecast, the Dow Jones average
The price of beer, cigarettes, bread, milk and pampers
Life is a test and we all got the answer
Like a wolf like me for what I really might be
Listening to the lyrics, only here's what I allow
You gotta try and make me testify for here and right now
Lets have a confrontation over a cold one
I'll give you conversation just to see if you can hold em
I play so dumb
Because I know some of these star struck small talk art fucks is no fun
The following was written as it came and fairly unedited, so it's a little jumpy and such (i happen to think in blocks).
(i just saw a commercial that was proudnay, giddyof the fact that their product was 99% real egg... and one percent....? eew.)
It's actually startling how rare a personal journal entry finds it's way into my journal; i'm not talking the not-so-detailed shit i usually throw in, something only hinting at personal decay, but never really exploring that. It's unfortunate that i feel i should edit my journal, but i do. And i'm sick of being funny or whimsical and nice. I'm sick of being so fucking square. I'm sick of being the only person i know with a conscience.
I'm sick of being PC.
I'm sick of being responsible.
But i guess that's just what people expect from me.
Levity.
And, what the hell; making people smile aint all that bad.
Nobody likes a Drama Queen.
Nobody likes a Gloomy Gus.
But, to tell the truth, i dont feel like doing anything. I dont wanna talk, dont wanna hang out. I just wanna lay in my cold bed in my dark room and listen to music whilst smoking.
I've hit upon a neutral day. A day when i just feel numb, and it feels good to feel numb. It feels freeing not to care.
So let's briefly about suicide. And i do mean brief, it's not healthy to dwell upon these things.
This isnt a cry for help or a call for sympathyit's a fact of life. People die. Some people die by themselves (take it either way you want to). I believe everyone thinks about suicide every once inna whileeither that or i happen to run with a rather morbid crew.
So i think about it every now and againit's a viable option. When i do think about it, it's hardly a cause for alarm, i usually get suicidal over bullshit, stupid shit.
I mean, if i ever had real cause to commit suicide i'd prolly kill myself, for what it's worth.
But, generally, i think, Well, you could always, you know, kill yrself...
Yeah, not today. Thanks.
So what keeps me on this earthly plain? Sometimes it's the fact that i dont wanna be one of those cases where the life is interchangeable with the reason. Where it's the music i listened to, or the movies i watched, or the games i played.
Where the life i lead went straight to suicide, i dont want my life taken for granted.
As much as i hate people i also love them. I love how they interact.
Real people, real love.
And i dont wanna hurt the people I'm closest to.
Well...that and i wanna be around for the next Deftones album.
Oh, and the new Tool one as well.
So the great Reset Button will have to wait to be pressed until i have nothing left to give.
Or take.
I'm sick of working, I'm sick of being broke, I'm sick of being high, I'm sick of making plans, I'm sick of starting projects, I'm sick of being anxious.
I'm sick of people and I'm sick of cities and I'm sick of driving and getting lost.
I'm sick of curiosity and I'm sick of being lonely when i didnt wanna be with someone in the first place.
I miss Jen because I'm only where i am because of her. It's been three years and I'm sick of feeling this way.
I'm sick of movies and I'm sick of fantasizing about the same person and I'm sick of masturbation.
I dont kill myself because i wanna make movies, and suicide would be counter productive.
I dont kill myself because I'm not famous enough for anyone to care.
For more personal, oft deep thoughts, Click Here.
I only open up if i see signs of interest. Actual interest, not that fakey I Care shit.
I'm sick of feeling sick every time i think about things.
I'm sick of feeling weak every time i think about her (the metaphorical Her, as in She).
I'm sick of wanting to take a vacation but only having enough money for projects.
I'm sick of being too much of a pussy to do anything alone.
I'm sick of seeking approval.
I was raised a gentleman (so to speak), to be nice to everyoneeven people i dont likebut it's come to my attention that the chicks i go for dont like Gentlemen. 'O cruel irony!
In an attempt to curb my journal post editing of content self-deemed too personal i've written my thoughts down without hesitation, without order.
I'm sick of thinking about everything.
I'm sick of being shy, I'm sick of wanting to be more extroverted, I'm sick of being the way everyone sees me.
I'm sick of lowing my own expectations whilst still keeping up with everyone elses.
I'm sick of being so sensitive and it's only Tuesday, but I'm sick of looking forward to the weekend.
I can remember her, but i dont remember what it was like. I can remember how we started, but not how we got to where we were. The details were mashed up for short-story purposes and novelization.
But i remember being new to it, and i think most people forget what it's like to be new. To feel new.
I'm sick of conforming and conditioning and assimilation, and I'm sick of sticking out.
Coughing up bong hits.
Boop.
Son you know what it is
From the moment that you come over the bridge
And if you don't ride with me
I'm gonna show you some shit
Ima show you where my niggaz stay sure on the mix
Ima show you where the pain and the poetry is
Ghetto young'ns spend a lot of time alone in the crib
BET on the screen, walls and posters of BIG
Hustlers getting dough sitting low on the 6
Blazing up the ambro glow over they wrist
Hop in the game knowing the risk
Still down to load up they clip
Gamblers with hopes of rolling the trip
But when you hear head crack there ain't no rolling again
Snatch the dice and everything you want is going it in
This how it happens, good people, bad habits, diabetics, crack addicts
Asthmatics
Searching for the truth leaping through the holy tablet
The bible, the Q uran, or the ten crack commandments
Speak on it God, What's today's mathematics
The five day forecast, the Dow Jones average
The price of beer, cigarettes, bread, milk and pampers
Life is a test and we all got the answer
oh, slug.
what else could i say