Whatever you do, don't tell anyone
A Journal By Sean Fogarty
People are so strange. A person could be feeling good for a couple of days and then, for no reason at all, ruin it all. I mean really good. I mean walk on the clouds, smile at everyone you see good. I mean, flying down the boulevard at 90 miles an hour good. I mean so good that all you can do is tilt your head back, close your eyes, and just spin, spin spin. That's how good somebody can feel, and yet they feel the need to ruin it all.
There are secret things in this world. There are things that people know but will never tell. It doesn't matter though, because the secrets are dying to be told. The knowledge, much like the one ring seeks out those who would know and goes to them, traveling faster than the click of a mouse. Just as a hypothetical situation let's say that a guy and a girl break up. The girl might check the guy's suicidegirls journal, and he might check HER online journal, and they both might know that they're checking each other's journals, but both refusing to admit it. You know. And I know that you know. And you know that I know that you know.
Some secrets don't beg to be known though. Some secrets stay safe, hidden in a vault behind a painting in a special room that's protected by a 8" thick titanium door and a complex array of alarm devices. A room inside your head. They don't beat at the vault doors, screaming to be let out before their oxygen runs out. They don't cry and beg to be released to see their families. No. They're content to sit in the dark and FESTER. I know. But you don't know that I know.
Lies are a special type of secret. Unlike most secrets, lies multiply faster than rabbits in heat. A single germ could split once and then again and then again, multiplying exponential so fast that in eight hours your entire body is infected, but it still won't multiply as fast as a lie. Lies sit in the back of our brains and rot like piles of old cabbage. We tell them everyday and usually to those people we love the most, and keep them secret until those people rip back the curtains and let in the light and our soaking, rotting piles of filth dries and withers into dust. They sweep it up and either forget about it or leave. Sometimes though, the people do not throw open the curtains. Sometimes the people have excellent night vision. Sometimes they sneak into the house of your head and sit and wait on the back porch. Blending into the shadows perfectly, they watch as you heap more and more cabbage on the rank mound. The buzzing flies don't bother them and the rancid smell doesn't faze them.
I'm so tired of the lies and so tired of the people who create them. I want to go to california on a big jet plane and never let them tell me that we're all the same. I want to run away from all these people and all these lies. I want the hot east coast sun to burn away all the scars that line the inside of my skull. I want to destroy the internet so that I won't be able to log on and find the lies. I want THE TRUTH.
A Journal By Sean Fogarty
People are so strange. A person could be feeling good for a couple of days and then, for no reason at all, ruin it all. I mean really good. I mean walk on the clouds, smile at everyone you see good. I mean, flying down the boulevard at 90 miles an hour good. I mean so good that all you can do is tilt your head back, close your eyes, and just spin, spin spin. That's how good somebody can feel, and yet they feel the need to ruin it all.
There are secret things in this world. There are things that people know but will never tell. It doesn't matter though, because the secrets are dying to be told. The knowledge, much like the one ring seeks out those who would know and goes to them, traveling faster than the click of a mouse. Just as a hypothetical situation let's say that a guy and a girl break up. The girl might check the guy's suicidegirls journal, and he might check HER online journal, and they both might know that they're checking each other's journals, but both refusing to admit it. You know. And I know that you know. And you know that I know that you know.
Some secrets don't beg to be known though. Some secrets stay safe, hidden in a vault behind a painting in a special room that's protected by a 8" thick titanium door and a complex array of alarm devices. A room inside your head. They don't beat at the vault doors, screaming to be let out before their oxygen runs out. They don't cry and beg to be released to see their families. No. They're content to sit in the dark and FESTER. I know. But you don't know that I know.
Lies are a special type of secret. Unlike most secrets, lies multiply faster than rabbits in heat. A single germ could split once and then again and then again, multiplying exponential so fast that in eight hours your entire body is infected, but it still won't multiply as fast as a lie. Lies sit in the back of our brains and rot like piles of old cabbage. We tell them everyday and usually to those people we love the most, and keep them secret until those people rip back the curtains and let in the light and our soaking, rotting piles of filth dries and withers into dust. They sweep it up and either forget about it or leave. Sometimes though, the people do not throw open the curtains. Sometimes the people have excellent night vision. Sometimes they sneak into the house of your head and sit and wait on the back porch. Blending into the shadows perfectly, they watch as you heap more and more cabbage on the rank mound. The buzzing flies don't bother them and the rancid smell doesn't faze them.
I'm so tired of the lies and so tired of the people who create them. I want to go to california on a big jet plane and never let them tell me that we're all the same. I want to run away from all these people and all these lies. I want the hot east coast sun to burn away all the scars that line the inside of my skull. I want to destroy the internet so that I won't be able to log on and find the lies. I want THE TRUTH.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
hope you find what makes you happy. cheer up.
you write beautifully. i am jealous.
hey are you in school? just curiousss
i also sleep a lot longer when i am dreaming, unforunately it's usually when i am having nightmares.
crack drealer/cell phone dream was very weird. the sidewalk was covered with "crack", white colored powder, and my brother was having a fit about the crackdealers. then my friend who i was walking home from school with ran away from me. i started chasing after her. i was running so fast i got worn out an had to crawl. this was all after i got expelled from school. i was a bad ass. (completely not like me.) then someone took my cell phone. suddenly my friend and i were driving home from school, not walking, and she wouldn't turn around and take me back to my cell phone. it was as if my life had ended. stupid phone dependency. sorry am babbling. my dreams have been completely off the wall lately.