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heh...get ready to crash and burn...
Everytime I edit a previous entry, rip shit out, afterwards, I stop and think to myself, what the fuck am i doing? I've forgotten the true reason to why I write and remind myself...I'm not writing for anyone else but for me. I read maybe 5, 6, maybe even 10, journals daily, and sometimes, I just find my own a bit too...I don't know, I feel ostracisized in the journal world. Funny, but it's true. It's only for a second, or two, though. So here I am, writing again. I wrote some shit, about the guy that is allergic to peaches and the skins of apples, and I think Garr was the only one who saw it before I ripped it out just based on his comment. They say that ignorance is bliss...well, sometimes I wish that I really didn't know. Know things. Kind of like how there is an orbit, for every planet, a set path for the earth, around the sun, at a certain speed. There are just certain things that cannot be defied. Yet, I cover my eyes and pretend not to know. Like a dog returning to its vomit. I suppose some things never change. Sometimes, when I'm seeing someone, it's a personal challenge, to that person. To see if he can prove me wrong. I have yet to be proven wrong. Is it because I am afraid? Or I just simply do not wish to be proven wrong? That's like asking me, do you wish to be alone for the rest of your life. The kind of things that circulate in my head...if people only knew. Maybe I am just fooling myself, to think that I am just special. And different. Setting myself on a pedastel. Maybe that makes me feel better. Whatever the possibilities are - I know it all.
Do you know why the blues are so ironically uplifting? When Otis is talking about the pain that he feels just because of the pain that his loved one feels. Or when Isaac Hayes is talking about his burning, undying, morally wrong love towards another woman. Or when Etta is talking about "the man she loves," or "the man she found at last". All of those things, not anyone can just sing, and speak about it just for the money. One must conquer it...or be in the process of recognizing, and healing, to talk about it. And when they sing about a certain thing, all of them has conquered it in one way or the other, and you feel that drive.
I wonder if peach boy will give me a dance, even if it's just in a pub. Or some room. That's my fantasy - one slow dance.
It's about keeping it real. Seeing through people has worked both ways for me. I still don't know if it's a good thing, or bad. Maybe it's better to be oblivious and just go with the flow. It's all good, though. If you want sex, just say so. I just might be accomodating. But you will be history. (No, I will not have sex with you.)
Whatever it is, any kind of indulgence is a form of upper. And what goes up, comes down.
Someone mentioned reading The Screwtape Letters over again. For like the second, or third, or fourth time. I've read it once, and I'm reading it again myself. I thought it was a very accurate depiction of the two ruling forces over this earth. The only two. There is no in between. It's either, or. And when I noticed that someone, talking about that, I wanted to ask, why? Even though, I know why. I know why. Those are the kind of things that lead me to the inner thoughts. Things that cannot be easily seen by the naked eye.
A person who makes bowls, ceramic, they shape it the way s/he wants. Puts it in what s/he wants. God made our hearts, illustrated as an earthen vessel, and only the creator really knows how to heal a broken and contrite heart, spirit.
What is my point. As usual, I don't have a point. One of my points is...it's hard to stay silent. Someone will say something, present a problem, and sometimes I can see more than the words, beyond the face value. And I want to help but that's not the way the world turns, now is it. People will live their own lives. Besides, I need to take the speck out of my own eye before I could point the speck out of another.
goodnite.
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