Mood: intelligence is just another fashion accessory I want to do something big. I want to make people cry as I'm doing it. Once upon a time, I purchased a tape. It was like some angelic beam of light when I saw it there for the taking. Needless to say, Vieuphoria became my favorite tape of all time--of any media, really. Soma, live from somecity USA. I think that was the first time I ever felt that feeling. somewhere within his sorrowful voice and watching some of the lucky on-lookers baul so perfusely, I realized that was something I wanted to do--to move someone to tears by some product of my creativity. I have this burning inside, which is often quasi-literal, to do something with meaning. But no matter what the avenue, it all comes to one solitary point--to move someone to tears. This burning is suffocating right now. I feel I'm bursting at the seams with urges to persue, and I'm bound to burst sometime in the near future. Completely unrelated; why do I sometimes still refer to you as my friend? I want to hate you, but find it so hard, as guilt and regret stiffen my senses and rectify crooked logic. I just hate being right. And completely wrong at the same time. I fucked up. I did. I'd be stupid to deny that. But not stupid enough to not realize that it wasn't all my fault, either. I feel guilt only for what I claim as my responsibility. But I can honestly say, after months of replaying and fast-forwarding, that I do not get 100% of the blame. I should have been more understanding and open. And I can't even come up with a sensible reason as to why I wasn't. Maybe because it was amusing to be mean. And that was wrong of me. Some things I can't help. But you're probably a changed person now. Some remnants of your former-self, with noticeable accents of your co-housedweller. It wouldn't be the same, and I'd probably be disgusted. Plus, your mom would never even dream of forgiving me since she clings so tightly to holding grudges against others' past mistakes. That's such a detestable trait. Even if you can't get over something quickly, eventually, you need to get over it. Seems like simple enough logic. She was mostly cool, though. A little too much fear of life, but she was decent to be around. And of course I could have done without the 'pedstalistic' ramblings on morals and judgement. I felt it to be a bit hypocritical. About truth. About losing trust. Unable to forgive because of shattered trust, which still to this day, I don't understand what the fuck she was talking about or even referring to. Some biased version of what happened was transmitted and took root in her head. There was no changing her mind. No need to even bother. And I always say that things aren't even worth the trouble, but I think that was the first time I ever really meant it. It was almost pitiful. Especially the polite but distant and irritated closing. I found that part amusing. I was hoping for something better though, I must admit. But you do know what my grandmother would say right now? Shit. Balls. Cock. I need to escape.
Busting buttons
6:06 p.m.//02.07.07
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