Control

Ahh what a great night, last night. Well, that's over. Today I've just been old hermit. No, I can't tell if I'm just getting almost too particular recently. I think I might becoming choosy or whatever the better word is. Like, I actually think I got aggravated with the thought of people doing things in my room in the way that I don't usually do them. I'm getting afraid that I'm beginning to want things to go my way. I'm almost sure that what I am actually doing has nothing to do with what I'm thinking. There's no way of telling for sure, I mean. I just can't tell because it's like I'm very sure that when I am doing things, that I am doing them for my only right reason. But then the situation just turns into smleh.

Well, all last week I was doing great. I was on a roll, I was writing all types of material and that type of stuff that I do that cannot possibly be criticized or considered futile (because I am also imagining the response to my admitting to writing interesting stuff being looked at as a 'lame hobby'). And see that's just it. I wasn't thinking about this type of crap. I wasn't thinking about the negative things that exist in other universes. I wasn't thinking about universes either, for that matter. I had a clear head for the week. It was like I was headed toward a certain zone, where no one could mention drugs, paranoia, or depression (none of which pertain to me, but bother me when I realize friends are going through this type of junk). I was feeling.. heh.. I was feeling ok (can't stand the phrase "feeling good" for some reason. I claim that I don't believe that a person can do that in the sense that no one has the right to judge what "good" feels like.) and I was calm, in anticipation. Maybe I was waiting for last night. Now, I'm just letting things bother me. People talking loud. i can't tell if that's something that... heh. I don't get bothered, of course not.

Ahr. What I was saying.. Last week, I was doing good. Trying to think of specifics besides the fact that there was a point where I realized the actor Jason Segel seemed cool. I guess the 'accomplished' feeling came from the fact that all of the notebooks I write all this crap in are pretty full. Now before you have already read the words "notebooks" and "write" and already gotten halfway through this sentence, realize that these 'notebooks' are really just.. ah.. you'd really have to see them, but the main point is that they barely have anything to do with writing. So do not even associate it or me with writing. I will not disgrace these things buy calling them "idea books," either. And that's my problem, this week. Or just today, actually. I fear that I actually might just be being a control freak. See, now I'm feeling like I remember myself saying this about myself once before. Actually, hah, I might have been talking about someone else. Still, I'm trying to keep level. I guess it's the fact that because last week, absolutely everything was in my hands, and now that this is the period in which I share my ideas, I am not willing to hear anyone else's. Which is false because I am amazingly open to ideas involving the comedy team. Yep the comedy team. That's what I've been so proud of. Especially last week. That is where my mind was last week. The comedy team. Fail-safe. And now that the day I was waiting for is over, I guess I've been back to whatever. Universe A. My home world. Not the real world, just the place where I grew up. Hm. Maybe that means I need to take each Universe A time to grow up. Or maybe I distribute my grow-ups equally into each universe. So stupid, the word, but in one of these worlds I've come to believe that not a soul should be ashamed of words. And in another, I think the opposite: the whole thing about certain people ruining certain things. In some places, at some moments, no one can ruin a thing.

Back in "Real" World, there's the sound of the lyrics "I told you- no I'll never let you drag me down to hell " which fits. I only call that one "Real" just because that's the crappy one where.. ahem.. sex, drama, and drugs exist. Again, not for me- literally, honestly, and the absolute truth. Those things can get real. But they're all complete bs to me. Cool because there's no way to detach yourself from it without looking like you're-- Hell.

Still, the fact that I've clearly gotten back into talking about this stuff, and the fact that I haven't gotten over the terminology factor just kind of bothers me. That's why I was trying to ignore certain friends of mine. It would do me good, and it has nothing to do with them--oh oh-- just the fact that what they're saying is just going to make me fixate on some other realities. You know. "Drag me down to hell". And that may be the cause of the control-freak thing, as well. I'm temporarily banishing certain folks just because they're not in the same mood as I am (mostly because they haven't heard the same news that I have). They're not thinking about the same things, and that- THAT has to be the problem with long-distance relationships of any sort. They see ABSOLUTELY different things. Absolutely no way to communicate. The details have to gather. Things become less effective from farther away. "You'd just have to be there".

So, what's the deal? Is there anything upsetting me? Well, one thing I do want to get over. That awkward meeting, yesterday. Ah. And that other awkward thing. And the thing I didn't do. And the thing from 2 years ago that I reminded myself of, an hour ago. Redemption? Hah, listen, I'm actually convincing myself that you can get over any awkward situation by turning into a big.. show. Well, hell, that ol' "success is the best revenge". Hah, now that quote is going to make me think of when I told that to Fide and he just focused on the 'revenge' part. But the point, moreover, is redemption.

Ok. I hope this flows well. Actually. Ok, I'm about to just type what I'm thinking in order to help myself out so hold up. Now, if I completely cut myself off from the whole: "imaginary people," "not exist," "universes," "I act different to certain people," "I can't remember my relationship with certain people," "man, I messed up," "anger," "disappointment," and "back-up plans"... does that mean I'm also cutting myself off from actual.. er.. "inspiration" for the things.. God.. that I do? Not to mention "what is it that we do?". That didn't help at all. Wait a minute. This has absolutely nothing to do with last night. As in- this is not even the same.. ah hell, here we go.

One of the things that got me earlier. Two things, actually. Hah. Hah. There is always absolute Hell in trying to defend Kanye West. There. Simple. Let's say defending Kanye West has absolutely nothing to do with the man himself. He's only famous for the fact that he symbolizes the exact situation that I am actually trying to defend. Kind of like Obama (because I thought of Chicago). I mean, that's what "idols" are (and I mean "idols" as famous people in general) there for. They represent an intricate ideal. That's why no one is "the one famous person". You become a fan of one particular thing because that represents that situation. I actually don't care if I'm saying anything new- remember that. But I'm just saying- to defend Kanye is to defend that one ideal of "what I am doing/saying is being translated horribly wrong". Like, jumping the gun. Like, trying to lift something heavy when you haven't even considered building muscles. As in- not ready YET. As in- maybe I need to grow up- once again. Or. Maybe I'm just not wrong.

Other thing was remembering something that could have been considered insanely passive-aggressive over the summer. I mean, how often do people around here blatantly use the words "main character" in reference to real life? Ok, first things first. I'm not saying I'll ever do so, but for someone to call themselves a main character is actually justifiable. I think I'm treading over old grounds (hah) so, I won't even justify that statement- which doesn't need to be justified because it is actually a kind-hearted thing, really. It's one of those things, you know? "Importance of self" (in social situations) is just a matter of moderation. I'm fine. No new lessons. Really just an argument of how "cool" it is to hate yourself vs. how "cool" it is to hate other people. Then there is just the absolutely honest and pure reality of "I have never heard any of those words". So, I'm fine. I just want to talk about that last part with someone before I finally decide what I mean.

Those two things kind of topped off this mood of today. Finding out that no matter what, I'm still going to look like I'm saying/doing mean, untrustable things? Even if the thing I was attempting is fool-proof? Maybe it's because i forget how I look when I'm doing it. I'm just fat :(

Yo.

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Update

Yeah. Today, which is (can't stress this enough) completely not like me, I've gotten a ergh "short temper". I didn't even mention that I was getting ugh "frustrated" with the fam today. Shame that I put a negative outlook about them before I even said anything positive about how I feel about them. You know- because I don't even talk about "fam". Whoa. My God. I just said "feel"("yeah but didn't he talk about 'feeling ok' earlier?"). Ha. Hah. Actually, that just explains this entire thing. It has to just be today. So in that big old open world, I am just a nice, creative (y'all can't stress that enough) young man. Fat too! :P And once every almost-never, I can just be "man he mean"- and that'll be by complete accident. I'm a man of ideas. That's who.
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and then. whoa forgot. oh yeah. how you're not allowed to bring up anything. you're only allowed to be reviewed. I'm being cruel, I think this is making it worse. As long as no one blatantly copies what I'm saying here. I've been sucked in. 1. I wanted to ignore the 'writing' side of things (this) 2. Forcing myself to ignore is just the same as ignoring anything that isn't an internal conflict.
Bottom line- last night was fun. My friends and I went to a show. I got a free dvd.

Watched

Ha ha ha
Really too much.
I woke up today. That was enough. I mean it.
I got right up and possibly ate breakfast. It must have gotten stuck in my teeth because I watched myself trying to dig it out with my tongue. Frosted flakes.
I watched my day, today. I was third-person, today. Now, I feel like I didn't even have a day.
A weird day, man. A weird day.
It was the first cold day, though. My lips are getting dry, I noticed, when I watched myself.
When it was happening, though, I did keep on seeing that my hands might have been dry, too.
So weird of a day. Really.
I started, right off the bat, my "video series". Today was devoted to starting my "video series". The first objective was, simply, to start it. I am so distressed, now. Everything went perfect.
I explained what I had in mind for the rest of it, so this counted. Then, I was invited to philosophy club, again. More excuses to film the day. I think what has me stumped, now, is that today is kind of a.. paradox? Now, I think I'm beginning to wither in some type of understanding. This is only based on the fact that I am typing this right now, but I think I watched more than just progress being made in the footage. Something is haunting me about today. It has to be the change in weather. Can I fight it, this time?

Immediately after I completed one of this year's goals, which actually paves the way to completing more goals, I feel that I need to take this time to stay inside and get cozy maybe. Instincts? I have to make things work around each other, I guess. If this 'goal' works, then maybe everything else will fall into place. That old 12th grade Frankenstein logic. Iconoclast in the class. Gah.. reminds me.

Different topic, but I was actually called a perfectionist in that class. After helping write a story about a murderous housewife.. a poem about a murderous housewife. I literally thought it was cliche. I guess that's why it was only a slight comment about my proposed perfection. Sorry, this must be an inside joke or something. A moment only I can enjoy. Kind of like how I really just can not wait to tell my story about that Muddy Waters, Jr. show.

Ok, I'll do it. Once I get this story straight, I'll keep working on it. This stupid, stupid "series". I'll call it stupid, so it'll have some resentment in the mix. It already looks exactly like me. This is my solo thing.

Wait.

Duh.

That was the whole reason I came here. To tell about my day. Er, to tell about my mood. I feel like I'm.. you know. "In, over my head." or whatever. I actually took it upon myself to start- and finish- an entirely separate project, aside from.. Cool Winners, Terror Keyboard, Brain Camp, Daytime Buddies, Let's Dants, Body Snatcher, street art, the secret music video, the promos, and.. real life. What..what am I thinking? Will something as taxing as a documentary about myself be what I need to get all of these projects rolling? To complete this year's goals? To help the people around me? To finally build relationships with people I actually want to know? How was I doing this before? Oh no, I must have been neglecting a bunch from.. posting things on the internet. Ha, not to mention I'm considered to not have anything going on, right now. Though, somehow, something going on would actually ironically make things less hectic. I don't know. I don't have a lot to work with. Material-wise. Even though that's the point I'm trying to make. Gah.

Well at the very least, no one will watch it. The best that can happen is that I actually complete my list. Yeah, see. I'm actually not doing this to impress folks with my projects, not to gain attention, and not to.. I forgot the other thing. Still, my reason is to simply.. do something. Not 'do something' out of boredom, but to do a thing that causes me to do other things. Alright. It's a responsibility. All I have to do is pick out what parts of the day I like, and compile it. That's all. Then maybe I'll get to those other things.

Agh, though, what if it actually does end up looking like some blog? Heh, well it doesn't matter. See, like I said. I'm not doing this for show. I'm not expecting anyone to watch. I'm trying to keep up with myself. All I need to know.. is that this can be considered a good thing to do. Or a right thing. I don't know. I'll give myself rest if I need it. This is stupid, though, talking about it. 2 am, somehow. Back to the other topic. Feels like I didn't even enjoy the day. Hah, I know I did, actually. Ok fine. Mood shifts, in the fall.

Let's watch.

Blister

First of all, I probably won't make it if my feet are the things trying to get me there. I applaud them, but it's my fault. I didn't think being barefoot in the city would actually do that much. Then, I guess I haven't acknowledged that the weather might be getting hot, soon.

So, I went to the Marietta graduation. A replica of last year's, I bet. This was Saturday, a full day. No idea how long ago it was, now. I went there, in a useless shirt, and watched. I took a peek at some folks, but I eventually hurried off to a pretty good breakfast. From there, I went to Grant's little graduation thing that "the proud mamas" put together. I was anxious because I had to leave there, even sooner than the other things. Still, after all of that, I was incredibly anxious about "some big party" that I was going to....

I can still feel it, though. Questions raised in the past year meeting circumstances and settings of this year, so far. Once I realized that I was all by myself, in this, I had no choice but to mention that it's another "this group doesn't make any sense." These people know each other, but they're not supposed to meet. I mean, I would love for everyone to meet, but not like this. People from this year, mentioning ironic folks to people who have been the subject of conversations for a long time. It may as well be selfish that that's what I'm focusing on. It's just that I feel that I was entirely alone. Especially because no one reacted to my outrage. You'd have to be dead in order to ignore outrage like that. I'm surprised the guy next to me, wasn't dead yet. I guess he just had to stick it out for my own personal season finale. I was really hoping it'd be a series finale, though. Too much for one period of time, maybe.

I must not mean what I am saying, here, but, it was right for it not to be a "party." It was what I came there for. It was answers. Of course, when you find out enough answers, the questions get scrambled. I guess both ends can't be tightened in one night. So, from there, I have to continue. I am sorry that, as a result, I refused to meet anybody new afterward. I just don't want some new person walking around throwing in some hidden ironies for me to collectively research. What does it matter, though? People buying houses? That's unheard of. People selling houses? That's going to begin to make my skin crawl.

What is the use? The longer people have to stare at your elbows, under your sleeve, the more they realize that you're only alive. Those people are there to lift, and their elbows are shame. I want my elbows to be seen from above, as under my arm.

Either way, I left that place feeling that stomach ache you get when you kind of watch a person die. I think I might have done exactly that. Watching, I mean. The last time I felt like that, I subsequently watched a car burning, casually. My only problem is the fact that everyone may just feel the same. All of the time. If anyone does react to anything, then they'd all have to. Except, I feel betrayed that people can repeat things that I am thinking but have no legitimacy in their presentation. By saying that, people know exactly what I mean. The ones that don't claim to be confused, of course. Still, if these are all repeated words, then why is there a flux between high and low? Must be nonsense.

I completely forget I have a family.

I guess you have to kind of be aware. You might have to be aware of the world spinning, of course. That theory. In addition to the fact that you have a throat that opens and closes every once in a while. You'll have to be aware of spiders hanging around, hunger, and that glass might be made of sand. Think about your spouse and children, whether or not you have them. Think about your friends, whether or not they exist. Then, think about how some people are 100% set on thinking about reproductive organs. All together, your thoughts will thank you, and you might get something. I don't know.

When I got home, I literally couldn't imagine doing anything but sitting and staring. How was it not the end? Alright. Not to mention the horrifying ironies that proved that is wasn't over. I mean, I might have to do something on the verge of a publicity stunt, just to prove some things for myself. That's the best way I could put it, for that moment.

I absolutely have to go.

Praise

To be honest, my sense of self.
I'm sort of believing that there were some points where I did change who I was. I just didn't necessarily agree with that plausibility. I don't want to say that I change who I am everyday, every hour, or more likely- by the year. Plus my sense of self may actually be "inflating." I'm actually not showing any signs of narcissism, so this must just be encouragement. Sounds like people want me to move forward. Good because once it's televised, someone else can point out whether or not I change by the season.

It also makes me blatantly dread "work." Nah, I can't tell anyone that I work. I can't tell anyone what I think about college. My standards is what keeps me away from college. Generally, it's just that I can't find a school that's good enough for me, at this point. That's what it sounds like. Under that, the reasoning is that I wasn't really singled out in high school just because I did sort of have too much of a high standard for.. not sure I remember what I told myself earlier. Still, it made sense that I was more of a "perfectionist" on the way out. Leaving was just some fire exit. Now I think I'd kind of... "make school my bitch" as it goes. There's the problem. One of them. I was too good to do what I had to do to set myself up for college, and now I'm too good to take baby steps. Well, I shouldn't punish myself with these words. I was "too good" because I shouldn't have been responsible for that whole 3-year long stint I had with geometry. I'm sorry, but Geometry in my life is absolutely absurd. Aneurysm worthy. It's a great form of math, I know- it's technically right up my alley, but it's literally someone sticking their leg out for me to fall right on my nose. Clearly fate. I know that I know Geometry. Well, in all honesty- all honesty, old female teachers will not teach me math.

What I mean is that I couldn't just make up for the time I missed while the rest of my class sat back and said "yeah, dude." Actually. Odd history between math and I. Still, I was too good to spend time out of school to make up for something that will not be my fault. As a result, I have not taken my SATs. I still have no idea what grades I left school with. Oh my god. Horror in realizing that the only time I've explained that was in my job interview. "Yeah, I was pretty good in school." Eh ok that's enough. I was just unaware of what grades really were until 11th grade. I'm just not sure what all this says about me. Not bad, really.

ok. It's true, I may be giving away all the mystery of what once was "the famous 'Pito'" but if someone is doing that much research, then the word "famous" can't really fade. I don't mean insults.. it can't really sound like that. Still, the mystery doesn't lie in the everyday reality.. Actually it might. Nevermind. Still- glad someone knows that I "need to get out of this place." The anonymous "place." I know it won't mean this house, specifically, but I appreciate the concern. I lack aggression, therefore I owe it to some folks to get out of here. I'm already halfway done. I suppose that's why health can't matter much, anymore. All that anyone is waiting for, is for one of those people who care to actually be themselves multiplied. An agreement is what will give me who's I am.

Sort of brings to mind another example of high standards. Also another reason I am cautious of college. I'll start out by explaining how I wouldn't want to get any book published by some publishing company. I'm referring to Justin's situation with Charlie D. I am almost afraid to see him get published in that horrifying way. Some company, "yeah some writer wrote some stuff, he'll make us some dollars." Record labels, talent scouts, college, skateboarding... teams? I get the illusion that I'm holding the string of a balloon, but the balloon is actually just a big sack of meat. A whale, caught in some net. Other people have to give us a boost. That's the rule. Kind of like my mom's fear of being under things (ie airplanes, bridges). That's why I've been giving myself so much more than I can chew. I'm trying to do it allllll by myself. Compensation makes sense, somewhere. I need someone to directly respond to this, and tell me to quit.

Hell, ok. Why not a conclusion to standards that involves some mmm hot topic of relationship? Well, that's actually just an entire other thing I was more willing to explain, about a week ago. Point is- these things that attribute to my "inflated sense of self" (which should no longer be referred to as such) cause me to think that I can only be involved with a certain female that has a lot of absurd features. I read about this, too. I may cause myself to believe... actually I see no reason not to. I'm in control. Anyway, what I was saying is that, blah, causes of someone's definition of "obsessive love." Actually, yeah. This is very irrelevant, now. It'll come off wrong, either way. You know when you have something that you knew you were supposed to explain eventually, and it just gets brought up at the wrong time? Yea. Somewhere, in here.

If only I were tired often. I would be ok with a bunch of me's running around. Not in that way, though. Just, sleep would be too important for me to not live in the wild.

Caution tape. Pile.

Theater.

It started out with a dream, and the most significant part was the number 14. That's how many seconds we were able to last. You were keeping score. I noticed, so I one-upped and wrote 15. Maybe it'd give us something to strive for, next peek. Somehow, you ended up on my left side and finally spoke. Unfortunately, all you did was inform me of a quote. As a result, what you said was something about a phallic object being over-used. Still- underneath your actual words, I heard a tone of something like "You know, we're not always going to have this chance. We might as well enjoy it (or do something about it)" That's when I actually had to wake up, and walk around.

Before that conclusion of the dream, in hindsight, the storyline was a premonition of the subject-matter of the actual day that was ahead. I was in a car. I did things that would offend anyone who had known me, previously. This person was offended, but it was settled. We had all sat down to watch some animated feature about animals. At a point there were three animals, separated by two lines on the screen. The cartoon outlines of the animals had stood stagnant, and the shape of the animals were essentially a maze. In the actual context of the maze, the edges were bumpers in which all biological matter of the animal had exited the body. These animated creatures were decaying, from the inside.

Then came the part where you joined me. If you know who "you" are, then it can only mean you remember the same dream. We were keeping track of the time it took us to be able to look into the eyes of one another. One another. I know. It legitimizes itself because, like I said, I had to wake up. When I did wake up, it was one exactly one hour before the time I had planned to wake up. I had a plan, this day. I was thrown an empty package of birth-control pills to throw away. I asked what these ones in the middle are for. Mon. Tue. Wed. Thur. Fri. Sat. So on. The ones in the middle- blatant placebo. That would be the word that echoes throughout the day. Placebo. It's just so elementary.

I had time to prepare, so I actually considered which parts of my plan I would actually keep the same. It turns out, that placebo was involved- in contrast to what I did not think. Reunited with the road, and our party grew. It hit me. We had to walk around, so that our pride would not get a little bit "vintage." Our first stop was in the corner store that everybody steals from. I call it that because I was the last one out. I remember convincing myself that there had actually been gummy cyanide candies, inside. There's no telling how long I was actually in the store, or how long I actually did drink from the water fountain. I held some water in my mouth, reminiscent of when you weren't allowed to keep drinking from the fountain in earlier school days. I was looking in a mirror when I finally took that last sip, as if I had gone back for an entire other drink.

It took forever for me to finally walk outside, and to realize that the figures outside waiting were actually each one of the people I had walked here with. We finally sat down, and that's exactly it. I stopped moving. They stopped moving. I made a point, I disappeared. My plan showed up. A table of a lot of mascots for the month, thus far. Here for me, that's where it began. This was my chance, but the two days prior were intended for forgetting what I would do in this situation. It wasn't the hypothetical situation that I could expand upon for hours, but it was somewhat of a digit. All through the day, people asked my if that was a "heart" on my neck. It was just red marker. One of the first few words that were said involved the variation of 'placebo' that caught me off guard. Someone was going to call me a phony.

Two people met, and I couldn't enjoy it. People meeting each other is one of my favorite situations. Sometimes that situation would cause me to scream. It was for the better. I remember trying my hardest to figure out the word I was looking for to portray the visual of a tv-personality's lines being scrolled up through a monitor. I had to think of that in order to explain how someone had previously been speaking in paragraphs. Underneath, something much more important happened this day.

It took me about three hours to eat the box of rice and beans that I was fooled into buying, when I needed it the most. Slowly, several disappointeds came and went. I didn't disappoint them, at all. My piece of disappointment came from the delivery of some message I thought I would be able to send. There were some people who were around me, for the sake of being around me. I didn't know it. There were several times, in the past, that I wanted to be around them. I didn't hear what I wanted. That's what makes me a phony. A synthetic. Intellectuals want groups of intellectuals because they have a higher concentration of being alone. Being alone makes words that much harder to hit. You can't really hide for two weeks, and expect to jump out and tell someone why they should hide. Redeem yourself, and just present it to them like you had planned.

So, there. One takes shape of the real thing, but it doesn't really give much effort in to being portrayed as the real thing- that one ends up being the disappointment. The other somehow gets help from others into being just something similar. A clear case of "Hell, why not?" So, I claimed not to know. I didn't know it then, but my state of being stubborn fixed my dilemma that I was trying to enact the entire weekend. Eventually, it's a paradox, but now I just need a lot of replacements. A lot of Hell, why not's. Some imaginary friend, they've got. In the same breath, I don't want to give any person the satisfaction of being imaginary if that's what they claim to be.

Although, now that I think about it, we're probably giving the same reaction. Gabbing and being gabbed about. If only our spokesperson swapped places. It'd make the story a little bit more suspenseful. So my plan, and paradox, was just detachment. That being done, just means it's time to go on with the rest of the day. That's when I remembered that I just couldn't. This was the last stroke before my portrait dries. My next mission was to figure out who I thought I was. Something like that.

I was told who my mom and my sister were. They're just names, this day. I was told that I wasn't doing enough. It was a parody of publicity, spoken by those who mirror it. Researching me, they know that I'm somewhat of an alter ego. I'm a generous alter ego with no need to hide the original person. I will, however, hide the name. It'll show up, inevitably. I found them because I was separated from my central "group." I was apart from my temporary group- the friends you end up with on a field trip. I had left the tabloids. Again, I was in the middle of a crowded town center. I heard the same voice that I heard one year ago. One of the local bands that perform here, each year. That's when I was convinced of my latest theory. The one where I shamefully agree that we're all in the same year, always. It made sense, this time.

There was another part where I had tried to explain my theory that I had just before that one. It's ok, though. There's only one missing piece. The second time I explained that one, was when I realized a common theme in children. I was with another group, the new-schoolers. I looked down to see a child calling my name because he looks up to me, in a matter of thinking. Hell, I can't disappoint him. I can't let him down, even if he only thinks I'm from the tv- which I am not. I asked the new school advice on what I should be doing with my life. I asked because I expected them to answer with exactly what their parents are giving them. They surprised me, but only left me with what I had already known. Who isn't thinking about travel, in this situation?

I convinced myself that my descendant was staring deep into my eyes. Still a baby. This was the second one that let me know what I was doing. I was walking around, station-to-station, asking who I was and what I should do. Looking for more, I ended up near where I want to be one day. That's when my televised group showed up. They were looking for me, and I went into the place that I want to go one day. I had been there before, it was no big deal, but circumstance is a factor. With them, I was reunited with the personal effects of my group. This was a point where I would not say a word. Lost, and revolving around me, this was my self. There was the mother and father, the insecure, the introverted, the skeptic, and the subconscious. I'm just as ashamed as their ability to decide, but they were a working body. My body walked through the area, just as I do when I wander. We detached again. This time, minus the introverted and the skeptic. We were among the casual.

Toward the end of it all, I realize that I am who I am in others. Out-of-body, I could practically be nothing more than a fake profile. I could be the main character of everyone's favorite story wrapped into one protagonist. Just as an imaginary person can be remembered in legends, folklore, and handed down stories- I can be remembered in casual conversation. Physically, I am represented in the actions of a group of any given number of friends. Quite literally, I'd be a desperate attempt of a child's imagination to create bs.

Feeling doesn't matter much to me, I guess. I can empathize, sympathize, and even synthesize (maybe even "peepathize")- but feeling is not a reaction I will ever aim for. I guess that swaps one letter. What I realized, through this visual journey, was just a couple of hints for what I can do. I think. This time, I hope not to disappoint.

I am myself, and I might as well be my fake self. Your self.

Tore

Thus ends what may have been the last of the House-Buyers. Not really. House-buying is new. It's years in the making. I don't like my own personal labels. Except my own. Now let me get to my real mood.

Upset or disappointed or suspicious. Whichever, there'll be some kind of stupid realization at the end so I can just go "see, it's all on purpose." Right? I might as well say it now, to expedite variation. I can remember loads of words, see? So suddenly, it's after midnight. They take it all away from you. All of them are taking all of it from all of us. The house owners have got any potential buyers by the balls. I'd hate to revert back to rebellion, but is it not the case? Sentenced to hell under our own personal masters? Water coming in, to taunt me. Bloody tears, in some other country. Those who wrote the bible, practicing their satire. Some divine literary competition, while I face shopping cart poetry. Tortures of the damned, yes. It's a rite of passage to get exactly what you ask.. around. A pre-requisite of those who were tortured, in order to kick back and just say "ohhh" in pure pleasure. Bit by bit, in order to keep away the actual previous final destinations. From prison to slavery.

The letter. "i can not deel with this any more and unfortinitly i am going to run away" or I assume. Some childhood experience. Somebody else's family. Still, children have the right idea. Pack up one or two of their favorite toys, a package of candy, and the clothes on their back. That'd get them farther than they'd think- which isn't saying a lot because their expectations dive in about an hour.

Still. It may just be heat confusion. Won't stop the tragedy, though. I don't want to introduce myself if I have to include the sounds of "twenty-" or "thirty-" and so on. Only a little over a year to do so. Ok, fine. Maybe I just won't be able to do anything with the actors and folks over 80. I'll just have to keep finding newer interesting people to hope to one day meet. What, in the hell on earth, is the true Hard Work? Where exactly is that one point where I finally, by myself, just let loose and start something and get it done? I thought it was "put me in a room, give me something to do, and close the door." Am I still supposed to be practicing? How long to practice before one accidental good thing happens? How long will I have the same mood?

Sleep can be a reward or a waste of time. It depends on who's giving it to you. I'll bet, eventually, that'll be the same case with a lot of things.

Did you know you're not allowed to change your tragic flaw? You're supposed to take the fall for anyone who was born with that tragic flaw. See? If you're the one who is showing the other people who have the same destiny as you, then you have to show them how not to have the same destiny as you. At least you'll be a hero. A tragic hero, again.

I've become.

Allowed To

No, see, I woke up fine today. It was just waking up that was the problem. For the first few hours, folks noticed how unawake I must've been. Bags under my eyes until about 2 or 3? I woke up right at the edge of having to leave. Like I used to when I went to school. Except this is 11-12.

I got out of it, fine. Just noticing folks aware of the fact that I was already completely gone and I still had 8 hours ahead. I also tried to hide in my imagination today. Literally, for good reason. I was trying to get a head start on writing Dait-A-Base. Actual symptoms of worry. Disciplined against worry, so this is something else.

Going to sleep was weird last night, though. It was a mix of "oh crap, I should delete that before anyone else sees it" mixed with "oh my god no, that's complete impossible" kind of. I think today was one of those days where everyone feels the exact same as everyone else. I didn't understand why I was involved. Hate to admit how "zombie" appeared in multiple unlikely situations. Also a period of time, where I feel almost "nerdy" I guess, for the things I'm saying. I honestly can't help the fact that science fiction ideals of my life are constantly in my head. Except, what I'm thinking has to be legit. I just mean the whole coincidentals, and intangibility.

What I am thinking. Legitimacy, Illegitimacy, Exactly, Mutual Friends, Coincidences, dreams, Stability, Disgust, Time, and something more than Exactly. Whether or not I am legitimately thinking those things for my own reasons. Agh, how to fit in life after high school. That's what we're all thinking. This other group. Not house-buyers anymore. Actually exactly that. The house-buyers are separate. Driven by what has to drive them. The things you think when you're 17 vs. the things you think when you're 18. Both halves of both ages too. Right, my to-do list.
How do I get to just be me, Me I mean. Not "being myself :)" but, how do I do that thing? I have a lot of personal studies to accomplish, then. I'd need to do every tiny detail. In the right order. Either that or discover that expression of one's self is wrong. If it is wrong to keep track of every single detail, just to be entertained by the past. If it is wrong to shell out these things that are actually that much more entertaining and interesting than what has ever come out. I've already disciplined myself to the point of refraining from talking about anything that might accidentally impress anyone. I mean, avoided impressing anyone. At a point, I thought impressing was wrong. So, what do I know?

The goal of us House-Buyers may just be to become an Arranger. They're all stages. Not phases. When you're confused and you want to just "that's what I'll do, I'll save us all and I'll keep us in a big house so we can do what we want." A House-Buyer. But when you're stuck in all this gross House-Buying...if you find your way out of that being your concentration, you just need to Arrange something. Pull the strings. "I'm glad about arrangements." I'm not listing any hierarchy, but oh well, who is going to read this the same why I typed it? We find each other as House-Buyers. Whichever stage is before that. Hm, the cell that reproduces. Everyone has thought the way of the before-hand stage. Thought, only. I know I did that stage. I was it. Not a thought of social anxiety, which I had to learn along the way. Not a thought of "gotta work two jobs and go back to school." No influence. What alone will do for you.

I disagree again.

Nothings

Noticing that 16th of this month actually might not have happened.

It was ok because I was actually kind of waking myself up, this morning. I thought I wouldn't have an ok time waking up because I didn't get much sleep last night. Seems like someone was watching my back in the sleep department. Hard to explain, but it did explain a lot. My point was that I had to wake up early this morning. Gah, the missing pieces.

Today was anticipated to be a big day at the store. Life fest. Not only that, but the spring Life Fest. I really just can't get over it. Everyday is either just a celebration or a question of mortality. This is just LIFE we're fooling with. Don't overlook your puns and wordplay. This is life. Life. My friends and I all hear it each time we hear that one sound clip of the "Life-Life life life." It's Life. My god.

Still, I was 100% in my own head the entire day. Thinking about the morning, over-reacting, last night's conversation, college, human behavior (literally, literally), and now just trust and byrony. hah.

Right now, I just finished an entire jug of water, I have the stereo playing, but I'm trying to figure out how to make use of the night after that nap I just took after I walked home. All I can think to do is try to tell everyone what I'm doing right now. It's because of the encouragement, though. One of those nights, where they like the stupid little things you do. All I am is really just ashamed of my phone, my diploma, and of course just the word "life". Oh yeah I was also thinking about where things finally pay off. Ashamed that everyone who has ever gotten anywhere and claimed it was a struggle may just have done exactly the same things I've done.

Just in time for Frankenstein, again. If I am not mistaken, the kids in school are studying it again. It's important that i know which piece and era of literature. Just- if only I still knew where to find that diagram of the literary eras. haunting, but hey why not.

My God, imagine the musicals that must go on in someone's padded cell.

Actually primal screaming. I'm aiming and hitting. A battle of two different muses. Fueling each other. Don't flatter one's self.

K, my smell.

High Pitch

Same as yesterday. Unfortunately, the only difference in today and yesterday is what's on television. Honestly.

A lost of words because of their repetition. So, how far can I take today in comparison to what it actually is. As far as I'm concerned, the days that I didn't remember couldn't have possibly happened. That same old "what if I'm the only real person" routine. It's ok, I don't think that way. I just build upon.

There was a slug on the pert of the door in my room, under the actual handle but not on the actual door itself. I let it outside. If I can remember that, then I can remember today. A lot of people claiming to have had headaches, today. Not me. Pancakes and bacon, again though.

The other day I kind of started trying out this writing of, well honestly it could only be called novel because of the style that I'm kind of automatically assuming. The title had kind of floated around for about a month at least because it's just so upfront. The Last Year Of All Time. Easy. Practice, then. I was kind of going to imagine that being in a series of a certain blatantly titled novel-types. Still, the titles might just distract the entire intention. But hey, I'm not wrong. "It's not a waste of time." Just heard that one on that tel-v. Awards.

I'll figure. Just he. Alright, good one though.

Forgetting How To Freak Out

Hi, lawlz. Just a second ago, I was having one of those freak outs I have when I realize all the people who know each other. The whole mutual friends thing. Just nothing I can do. My mom just made what would actually be a great dinner, for how it was made. No idea where this stuff came from, but no I just don't like fruits in my dinner so that's why I personally... gah how do I explain..? Besides the fact that I personally find it confusing to eat a fruit in my dinner and how unexpected it was for me to eat the asparagus, but it was [some word that actually means good according to meal-cooker standards] for a meal cooked with no oven, basically. I don't know. just trying to explain that she must have done a lot for a little, but that may be far-fetched.

Got next week's schedule. Another 6 days. A panic because my mom is right. People would be glad to have those hours. Yet, I need more time to... eh who am I kidd-ong? If I would have had a job earlier in life, i would understand time-management. Ha, irony. There were books on that subject yesterday, in the library. I actually debated. Probably the reason I feel down about work in the first place. Basically the same thing as food, drugs, and bang-alotta. Freud, trying to but not 100%. I must have been trying to warn myself. Metaphor of the hours at work being an open wound literally 'gushing' blood. Something's got to slow that down. Metaphor of the previous and a white lie. Whichever bandage is chosen will cause a lot of other of that same bandage to be used. Hah typos in the present-perfect tense. Agh yes aggravation at how the things I've learned appear at the times most vulnerable to audacity.

Laughed a lot today, which is less of a good sign than I just now thought. Actually scared for a second that I've actually warmed up to working. Yeah today was proof of that. Sitting down under that nightmare camera. Laughing at jokes I don't even like, just because they're jokes. Actually saying "what?" to coworker. Forgetting things, almost. That one might be the scariest. Well, now that I think about it, work was my day today. Since I woke up at approximately 11:30 and went in at 12. It's all I had time for, actually.Then only half a day in between now and working again, in which I work the entire time the store is open plus one hour. Where the hell is my boiling point? When the hell do I discover that thing that people do to get their minds off it? It's actually designed to not be like school. That's why I have to be somewhat of a person that most people can relate to. No, no, no, no. I have to- my god I just forgot. A blank. Literally, someone just rease my memory. I bet the internet might cut off or something might replace what I'm saying with some bs. Erasing proof that I actually, gah all I can think to say is some egotistical mess that opposed the point I am making. Well if it's anywhere near egotistical, then you know what I would have been getting at. If I just state "that's why I'm the main character" then it's just that character flaw that I just imagine to be an awkwardly shaped naked white boy basking in the sunset. With a stupid haircut.

Well. Not much I can do. I'm imagining a mixture of what that one song has taught me and how to spend my time off. I remember "you ever notice when you're off of work, it's ok to actually just do nothing?" Now it's true. What Nick said. Actual private time by myself. Time to either think or tweedle around-er I'm sorry to tinker around with something. Or to "thinker" with something. Something like, eh what somethings do I know how to "thinker" around with? How can I steer this away from innuendo?

"The only thing that keeps me sane is the thought that I have all eternity in which to perfect my art."

Hey guyz