12 October, 2005
(0 ) 20:26 My mother wishes for a happier child.
Am I not happy? I should be. But what is happiness anyway? This question is just so trite, so overused, so cliched. Yet I don't know the answer. I think my mind's screwed over. I think the way I view the world, it's through dark glasses tinted just so that I can make out vague spectres of moving objects, but not see what they really are. And when I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a shadow. I want to wrench out that paper-thin, two-dimensional heart of mine, an object that exists only in the planar world, so shallow, it can't pump enough blood through to allow me an appearance human enough.
I wonder why no one has seen through me yet. The fake I am. Because the way I see it, this is not living, and I am not alive.
And so I hunger for the life I do not have, when all I have to do is take those glasses off. But do you know how difficult that will be? I'm so used to this world of darkness, that the light will simply blind me, cause me to evaporate into a million specks of dust that get blown away in the wind like petals in the rain.
But nobody said it was easy. But goddammit, no one ever said it would be this hard. I think I've tried. And that's the problem. It's my thought, my perception. All of which are worthless.
((heh, if anyone notices the Coldplay reference, brownie points to you))
Am I not happy? I should be. But what is happiness anyway? This question is just so trite, so overused, so cliched. Yet I don't know the answer. I think my mind's screwed over. I think the way I view the world, it's through dark glasses tinted just so that I can make out vague spectres of moving objects, but not see what they really are. And when I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a shadow. I want to wrench out that paper-thin, two-dimensional heart of mine, an object that exists only in the planar world, so shallow, it can't pump enough blood through to allow me an appearance human enough.
I wonder why no one has seen through me yet. The fake I am. Because the way I see it, this is not living, and I am not alive.
And so I hunger for the life I do not have, when all I have to do is take those glasses off. But do you know how difficult that will be? I'm so used to this world of darkness, that the light will simply blind me, cause me to evaporate into a million specks of dust that get blown away in the wind like petals in the rain.
But nobody said it was easy. But goddammit, no one ever said it would be this hard. I think I've tried. And that's the problem. It's my thought, my perception. All of which are worthless.
((heh, if anyone notices the Coldplay reference, brownie points to you))