Wallowing in inspiration. Use it. Stay amused by it. Allow yourself to be steady. Allow yourself to be happy. Allow yourself to accept yourself. With accept comes progress. Some people spend one year, two years, four years, most years or all of their years trying to find solutions to something that cannot be solved. You cannot change the way some people perceive their lives and perceive you. You try and find no solution. You try again and you only achieve frustration. People are what they become and they become a version of what they believe is correct. So who do you blame, the person or their master? Blame no one. Shed no anger. Shed accept and carry on. Let it inspire you, though never define you. Don’t ever become a product of the people who broke you. Become a product of your mind, let your passion control you. You don’t have to forgive, and you must never forget, but you need to understand that it is what it is. You cannot change somebody’s perception of right and wrong. You cannot let your own ideals decide who you love. Save yourself, don’t rely on somebody else to do it for you. People are people. Don’t overestimate them. Don’t underestimate them. You decide how other people perceive you, not the other way around. You have a little bit of poison and a lot of potential. If you want something, go and get it. In the end, if you don’t have it then I guess you didn’t want it enough. Excuses are nothing but avoiding hard work. Don’t avoid yourself. Speak to yourself. Read to yourself. Understand yourself. There are 7 billion people in the world. Friends come and go. Family can deceit you. Plans change and sometimes people change. You will have one companion and one companion for the rest of your life. Gaze into your own reflection. Take it in. Ask yourself the question; are you happy? If the answer is yes you are well on your way. If your lips speak no you’re on the verge of on your way. Gaze into your own reflection, see the potential. Forget the people, the traffic and the horror. You’re staring at your own savior. The tools are hidden behind that thick scull of yours. Stop searching. Say hello.
was 5 I l
When I was 5 I loved. Who doesn’t love ? Everyone loves when they’re five. I wanted to be a performer. I always wanted to be a performer.
When I was 11 I bullied someone. Maybe I ruined her life. Maybe she killed herself. Who knows? I moved away and since then I haven’t seen her.
When I was 12 I hid during free period at school. I had no friends. I was miserable. I was miserable, but I figured I deserved it. After all I did bully someone.
When i was 13 I believed in karma. I made good grades. I would become a lawyer. I did sports. I also did theater, but at the time I didn’t think of art as a career.
When i was 15 I liked blood. I don’t know why it happened , it just happened. You know when you’re younger and you read about people who hurt themselves and you think that they’re either crazy or stupid? I was maybe crazy, but never stupid. You know how it is. Shit happens. I was sad and the blade was just there.
When I was 16 i drank too much. I drank until I was 19. I said I wanted to kill myself, but I didn’t really. If I wanted to i could have. It’s a simple task, to kill yourself. I lived close to the tracks. I wouldn’t really, I just wanted somebody to save me from a hypothetical situation. You know teens, they’re attention whores.
When I was 20 I was alive. i wrote this, because when I write, I write because it’s over. i waited around for happiness and it took me to New York and back to realize I was the one who had to find it.
When I was younger I used to think that i was special because I was sad.
It doesn’t make you special, just sad.
When I was 20 I still used razorblades and knives. Love knives. You dip them in red, paint, not blood. Then you pierce through material that is not skin.
When I was 20 I finished my novel. I could have created a lot of scars with that rage. In stead i completed a novel. Old scars and novels are both evidence of how far you’ve come. Personally I rather have something i can sell.
I like money.
I have a feeling i will either have nothing or a shitload of it when I’m older. I will be great. Maybe 2 people believe me. The rest think I should go back to school. I hate school. Fuck school. I know that I will be great.
Gone are the days when you’re blue.
Here are the days when you’re blue, red, purple, white, green, yellow, brown, turquoise, pink, violet and orange.
We are cursed to live.
I think there’s something particularly beautiful about staring out the window and wondering. Was yesterday real? Is now real? Am I real?
I have different personalities; one for myself, one for the public, one for strangers and one for friends. Every time you encounter someone new you make a choice; who am I today?
The question reads differently every time. I don’t think it’s possible to really know somebody. I’m not talking coffee buddies or facebook friends but to really know a person. I believe words are adjusted. As we grow up we make choices. Who will I be? We are doctors, writers, lawyers, bank robbers or nothing. Some people choose to be nothing. We are cursed to live. You can either take it as an opportunity or leave. Everybody makes choices, every day of every life.
Now, I like to think that I’m different because I do what I do. I’m not. Everybody makes choices, every day of every life. You write a book. You write prescriptions. You write nothing. You can choose to write nothing. There’s one thing, one thing that we all want.
I like to think that I’m different because I do what I do. What I do is an attempt to stay here with what’s been given to me. What I do is to use it as an excuse to succeed and not an excuse to fuck up. What I do is what everybody else does, every day of every life.
Strip down to the core, the pure animalistic core. The curse is not the life itself, but the mind, the choices. The choices are the demons. Who am I today? Our minds are beautiful, yet poisonous.
There’s one thing that I want, that you want, that everybody wants. I want recognition. I want fire. I want life. I want to feel it. There’s one thing that I want, that you want, that everybody wants.
I like to think that I’m different because I do what I do.
I’m like you,
I’m like them,
I’m cursed to live,
You’re cursed to live,
We’re all cursed to live,
What I want,
What you want,
What everybody wants,
Is to be understood.
Ah, the sound of the cell phone shutting down and the deactivating button on facebook in which I use a lot. I’m not depressed or lonely or in anyway unhappy. That’s the thing.
This is the happiest that I have ever been, completely content with my solitude. It’s the greatest gift you can ever ask for; to be content alone. People waste so much time searching for other people. It must be draining.
I live in this alternate universe. I write. I think. I stare out the window. I speak to myself. I pretend my life is a movie. I watch movies. I am the movie. I am happy.
I am happy.
What’s that glow in my face? It’s my inspiration, my joy. I’ve wasted so much time caring about what stupid people think of me.
Those people mean nothing to me anymore. Fuck you, I’m awesome and one day you’re gonna regret not being nicer to me.
I have this very particular outlook on life. I know exactly what I want. This is where I am and that’s where I’m going. I will live a fulfilling but shorter life. I always thought I would. I will. I want my life to be like a good movie; to end before it gets boring.
Right now my life is exciting. I have so many ideas, so many dreams. My life is a piece of art. It’s currently in the works, but one day it will be complete.