Have you ever sat and thought for a minute about how much you impact the people that you come in contact with, how one snide coment can ruin thier day? I realize it's not great to start off a journal entry with a question but this has been on my mind for quite some time now. I guess I just needed someone to understand what I was thinking about, sometimes I don't understand myself. It's funny/scarey though, we as humans are so fragile, in mind and body. Something as small as paper can cut you and you'll feel it the rest of the day, but the words printed on that paper can change your mood, attitude toward a certain thing, or even your life... And now a quote from a great book:
"Once on a yellow peice of paper with yellow lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year that Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of the new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it
Once on a paper from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himselft into bed
his father snoring soundly
That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
And a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could make it to the kitchen "
---------Stephen Chbosky----------------
"the perks of being a wallflower"
Why do I go through these depressing spells? Why do I put on a fake smile then turn around and put a gun to my head? Why do I try to be a nice guy when all I get is lead on, or walked on? I don't expect anyone to make any type of comment to this, I made it pretty hard for anyone to. Sometimes it just feels good to get things out and this is a good place to do it, judgement and all. Just realize you don't know me how you think you do, I'm rarely as open as you think I am. I have so many walls built up inside my mind that sometimes like these when something sparks my depression. I tend to bottle everything up, and sometimes all the things inside just billow out and it's hard for me to fake even a smile. You would think that I would be able to sort through the walls and clouds in my head to make, and write better songs, but that just brings up more bad memories and just makes me want to crawl into a dark corner and shoot myself in silence........
"Once on a yellow peice of paper with yellow lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year that Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of the new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it
Once on a paper from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himselft into bed
his father snoring soundly
That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
And a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could make it to the kitchen "
---------Stephen Chbosky----------------
"the perks of being a wallflower"
Why do I go through these depressing spells? Why do I put on a fake smile then turn around and put a gun to my head? Why do I try to be a nice guy when all I get is lead on, or walked on? I don't expect anyone to make any type of comment to this, I made it pretty hard for anyone to. Sometimes it just feels good to get things out and this is a good place to do it, judgement and all. Just realize you don't know me how you think you do, I'm rarely as open as you think I am. I have so many walls built up inside my mind that sometimes like these when something sparks my depression. I tend to bottle everything up, and sometimes all the things inside just billow out and it's hard for me to fake even a smile. You would think that I would be able to sort through the walls and clouds in my head to make, and write better songs, but that just brings up more bad memories and just makes me want to crawl into a dark corner and shoot myself in silence........
You must not be feeling very infinite right now. Have you gotten your books back yet?
for me, i need to cycle around to the bawling my eyes out in the fetal position in order to come round to being normal again. no one knows what you do when you're alone, it's funny. if you don't hit the low spells, it's hard to appreciate the good times.
hang in there, things will circle around again.