I feel like I've stolen everything that describes all the little I have to describe about myself. My vocabulary, my style, my sense of humor, my emotions, my taste in music, even my smilies. But how can I help it.. when I've had nothing to start from.. sheltered from the real world by religion and parents, or maybe I was born missing part of my brain. I feel trapped in a shell, maybe only starting to crack through, with almost all the work done by other people. I can't find myself for myself. I feel like I have one of those cones you put on dogs, so they don't itch. I can't see myself, no matter how many times I spin around in circles trying to get around it. And there aren't even any mirrors to look into. Maybe I should just keep whining and complainig about this so called cone, and live forever as a mindless monster who's been hiding from people in his basement for over two years. Who won't even submerge for school, and has practically no friends, because of his neglect to all of the past ones. Thinking to himself that this journal entry is going to move the world, and everyone is going to understand. Well I don't understand the world, which further alienates me. I have all the questions to ask, and all the time to hear the same questions echo right back at me. But for some reason, I cannot live right without the answers. Who the heck am I? "Who are you?" ..I don't know!
Existential Organism · Sat Dec 10, 2005 @ 09:29am · 1 Comments |