Choose your own adventure

It's lush. The way you walk around like you own the place. You act as though every room was carefully designed just to hold your presence as it's center of attention. The chairs, tables, lamps, carpeting, wall decorations, and all other assortments of furniture were placed in such a way that you in all your glory would shine brightest. The world is your stage..... Bitch.

That's when I realize this is my story. The person stealing all my glory is me....only it's everything I could be. Meanwhile, I'm really just coddled away in the corner of every room like another piece of decor. I'm a throw away character in the novel written for me and by me. This is my life. This....

That's when you hear it. Do something about it. Stop complaining.

What a hypocritical code......

A universal condition put to shame by such a shallow judgement. This is a choose your own adventure book. Somehow though, we all find ourselves landing on the same page. The: "We don't feel adequate page." The vulnerablity and insecurities that unite us in a common bond but are expressed in different ways. However, it also divides us from ourselves. The best of ourselves. In our solitary moments, in our consquences be damned moments; we shine. We radiate power. We fulfill ourselves.

This is your adventure. Your stage. Your world. You sit in the corner watching the shadow of you own the place. There are moments though that you take it's place. That the decorations and furniture and people in your story are the subtext to the glory that is you. You fulfill yourself.

You are the star.

So consquences be damned, bitch slap everyone and take your rightful place.

Blue BIC pen

I think this generation doesn't get enough credit. We are too obese. Too spoiled. We've lived in relative ease. We are too depressed. Too lazy. Too sick. I believe that's what makes us so special. There is a beauty that radiates from the sickest. I would even argue that it transcends the beauty of the healthy. From sickness springs the fullest of passions. A raw, animalistic, emotional beauty. I suppose that is why I am so appreciative of the emo/indie/screamo/acoustic/alternative. The anger, the hurt, the depression, the emotion, the lyrics are real. They aren't woven up in some self righteous meaning. They aren't watered down. They are honest. They are bad teenage poetry put to music. It's beautiful to me.

I consider myself lucky to be able to partake of such cheesy emotional. It defines a generation of young people who aren't happy and that's ok. We fall in and out of love like passing seasons. We backstab. We cheat. We are angry and not sure why. We scream to melodies. We cry in rythem. We hold close to lyrics. Everyone is a musician. Everyone contributes. Everyone is a poet. Everyone bleeds.

"I said I'd never let you go and I never did! I said I'd never let you fall and I always meant it! If you didn't have a chance than I never did! You'll always find me right there again! Have faith in me...."

I don't feel ok. I know why. I am having the hardest time figuring out how to fix it or even if I want to fix it. Everyone around me is moving forward and I'm slowly moving backwards. I feel like I'm losing grip on everything that has got me to where I am now. Is it for the better?

I feel like this is a prelude to a lifetime of regret.....

Maybe I'm a blue BIC pen that's ink has run out....

The philosopher.

Nietzsche at 2 am has captured my soul:

"Sigh- I caught this insight on the way and quickly seized the rather poor words that were closest to hand to pin it down lest it fly away again. And now it has died of these arid words and shakes and flaps in them-and I harldy know anymore when I look at it how I could ever have felt so happy when I caught this bird."- Nietzsche, The Gay Science

Oh how often I feel like this. Such brilliant ideas so disgraced by such tacky words. Language for all it's glory, can never truly capture the radiance of a well crafted idea.

The philosopher suffers greatest and there, it is also most blessed.