the quick brown fox jumps over
Quick find code: 49-50-241-61382913
i have no friends, only acquaintances
i walk. and sit. a lot
people run so very much. i dont understand
i tried it once.
i didnt like it.
thats why i walk. and sit. a lot
28-Jul-2010 03:08:44 - Last edited on 15-May-2011 19:51:34 by Nguy4
My name is Anonymous.
That was a cynical joke.
I'm a normal person.
I do all the regular kid things.
I'm bored a lot though.
I think I have no personality. Being smart isn't a trait at all.
But I'm starting to be become funny.
I'm not sure if that's an evolution of who I am or just a charade I'm putting on.
I'm scared of growing up.
It's funny as hell that all we ever wanted to be as a kid was to grow up.
But we were kids.
We didn't want to sleep at night. We didn't want to get the cooties from girls.
Now all you ever want to do is sleep. All you ever want to do is something so damn suave and disgusting to girls.
That kills me.
I don't get all this anxiety and angst stuff. The fear of fitting in. The need to find identity or something.
That's just another norm we created. Another social construct we've ingrained into ourselves.
I'm not scared or anything like that.
I'm just bored a lot.
I have friends. We laugh.
I use to have Best Friends. But I moved.
Maybe they weren't my friends at all.
Maybe I was just stupid.
I hate cliques. God they're annoying. The tiny, stupid group of ants scurrying around, trying to keep their self-made image intact. Stupid posers.
Everyone tells everyone to be yourself. Be confident in yourself.
Such a damn cliché.
"And love makes the world go round."
No damn teenager can be themselves. We're goods on a conveyor belt ready to be damaged.
All we can ever hope to be in life is a wall flower. A stupid, insignificant ghost in a perpetual sea of mass.
To be maimed by the mob. To say a funny one liner.
That's the single, greatest thing you can ever aspire to in life.
Well, that's before we get into the Real World.
God I hate that term.
"The Real World."
You got to be kidding me.
They think we're bunch imbeciles in an isolated world of fantasy and hormones.
The damn morons.
28-Jul-2010 03:46:10 - Last edited on 23-Jun-2011 07:37:30 by Nguy4
He always looks sad.
I don't talk to my dad much.
I didn't notice it though.
Well, not before my friend had talked to his dad.
I didn't know people were suppose to talk to their dads.
I love my mom.
Not in that way though.
Not like that.
Sometimes I feel guilty for my mom and dad.
They live crappy ass lives.
I keep imagining if I was them. If I was an adult.
My parents depress the crap out of me.
I'm bored a lot.
I don't know what to do.
Sometimes I sit.
I feel nothing when I do.
Sometimes when I sit I think of what other people are doing. I think of how much fun they're having.
That kills me.
It just makes you want to do something.
To show them up. To prove how much better you are.
That's why I read. I guess.
To make myself feel better. Above everyone else.
But I get lazy.
A lot of the times I just stop reading.
I feel crazy when I think like this.
It makes you question your sanity.
You're either doing nothing because you're bored as hell, or you're doing something because of some ego escapade.
I'm surprised when I ask people what they did on their weekend.
Most of the time they say, "Nothing."
I play a game when I walk.
I don't know why though.
I never win.
You try to memorize the face of the person you pass by.
All the features of it.
It's really hard to do though.
All you remember is the process of you trying to remember the face of the person you're trying to memorize.
That vague, ambiguous face forever in your mind. That incomprehensible face you've never met in your entire life.
Somewhere out there in the world is the stranger that continues to live without knowing the very fact that their silhouette is forever drilled into your mind.
It's scary when you think about it.
28-Jul-2010 21:33:18 - Last edited on 08-Jul-2011 00:22:35 by Nguy4
I'm a nonconformist.
Well I didn't want to be one.
It wasn't by choice or anything like that.
I guess I just say that to justify the way I look.
Everyone looks so nice all time.
It kinda intimidates you.
Makes you feel small.
Like you're worth nothing to them.
Oh I don't think they do it on purpose.
But you kinda get the feeling they are.
You would think that the nice-looking people think about these kinds of things.
But it's as if they don't even have a care in the world.
Like they never put a second thought to it.
As if it never came across their mind at all.
It surprises me when nice-looking people are nice.
It always catches you off-guard.
People make boredom look like it's a bad thing.
Like we should indulge in our impulses. Our need for enjoyment or something.
I'm not sure if being bored is half so bad as everyone makes it out to be.
What I don't get is why people are wired to avoid boredom.
To instantly scavenge for a state of euphoria.
Being bored is a sensation too.
It's a profound human experience.
I don't understand why people would want to do away with it so quickly.
I think being bored is an okay thing.
Suppose you felt the phenomenon of ecstasy nonstop for the rest of your life.
You would feel really bored.
That's not what I meant.
Sometimes I sing songs for the hell of it.
I don't know if I enjoy it or anything.
I think I do.
I'm not sure though.
The problem is I sing out loud.
If I truly enjoyed it I would probably sing to myself.
But I don't.
So I can't be enjoying it.
Yet I don't think if you sing out loud that necessarily means you don't enjoy it.
If I truly enjoy singing it wouldn't matter if I sang out loud or otherwise.
The thing is that the more you think about it, the more you doubt yourself.
But that goes for anything.
29-Jul-2010 20:04:12 - Last edited on 07-May-2011 03:46:23 by Nguy4
The ambrosia of nectar falls through the sieve.
It's as if we fool ourselves to thinking it is possible.
Possible to clasp and smother the solid, formless mass.
And maybe it is.
Sometimes I close my eyes.
In that abyss of blackness I think of something.
And then it comes into conception.
A seed of imagination is sown.
Then I wonder how this is possible.
How it is possible to see blue ripples in a sea of black.
How it is possible to hear the machinery of civilization in the void of nothingness.
I try to hold the dichotomy.
To hold it for instance in time.
To assert my voice of identity.
To yell and scream.
To say unto the collective imagination of mankind that I understand.
I finally understand.
The indifferent monolith is silent.
I lust over them.
The voluptuous warmth of overflowing vases.
The singing hearth of spring.
There is an uneasy line.
Disgusting debauchery underlies the innocent whims of youth.
I try to remember when I lost my innocence.
When I had the prophetic revelation of sin.
When my eyes were dilated at the forms and movements.
Dilated because of the Fall of Man.
But it's really weird to think of your old self as a kid.
You have an uneasy time picturing yourself like that.
You feel pathetic.
I need to drench myself in water and rip off my flesh.
At times you feel guilty.
You feel ashamed.
But then it changes.
Suddenly everything is alright.
It is perfectly okay.
The burdens are replaced with culminating ecstasy.
But as quickly as I am perched on the plateau of mania, I fall into the depths of self-loathing.
Now I am on Zion again.
30-Jul-2010 07:28:01 - Last edited on 15-May-2011 19:58:08 by Nguy4
I think there is meaning behind the meaningless.
I was too young to understand the Question.
"What is the Meaning of life?"
I didn't understand why people did not know this.
I could find out the answer with a dictionary.
As a little kid it felt amazing to know the answer to question that entire mankind did not know.
But somewhere deep down I know I was half-kidding myself.
It's kind of interesting that people have certain ideas about the meaning of life. They have it all figured out in their small, concise package.
How can the meaning of life boil down to something. Anything.
People don't even have the luxury to comprehend the meaning of life.
*** This is not done yet
Fully conscious of our consciousness.
The mere being of fabric of consciousness.
To embrace. To breathe the essence.
The burst and the blast of life.
Art, literature, helping people.
Why do you wake up in the morning.
Perception of everything.
I feel like one week is one incessant day.
Cycle of depression.
Leave. I'm tired.
But philosophically, does it equate?
*** This is not done yet
05-Aug-2010 05:19:11 - Last edited on 10-Jan-2015 11:40:04 by Nguy4