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I might start with how cold I am. Is that stupid? This is the first. This is supposedly the beginning but it's sorta in the middle. This isn't where it begins. I can't believe I'm doing this. It's hard for me to commit to something so routine. I'll probably forget . There are notes all around my computer saying 100 words, there is a note on my door, and I told everyone to tell me that everyday I need 100 words to tell the world. Who really cares? Typing with mittens isn't as hard as you may think it is.
This day doesn't deserve 100 words. I begin to think of this really bizarre dream I had about going up a creek and the creek was filled with chairs, all kinds of chairs. I was walking with a friend who asked me if I knew which way was down anymore. It didn't matter because I was going on upstream right? Then I run into 2 other friends who happen to be brother and sister. The brother was really excited because he fell in love with a girl who ran a political website. I didn't get back to sleep after that.
So as of this moment I'm supposed to be thinking about Indiginous people and their sovereignty rights. I can't think about words that I don't even know the meaning of, so fuck it. This means nothing. I could also be reading a Composition paper and supposedly to be looking for shifts in tense. I'd rather pay attention to this pounding in the back of my head to the beat of this 80's song. During Algebra I feared for my life. But it's ok. I'm not really complaining, I'm just trying to make 100. "Wake me up before you go go.."
And you stare like it really doesn't matter, but you look and you don't even see. I'm not a pretty face with a pretty story so just give up on me. It's not going to change, I'm not going to change. Personal Christ takes up 2 words but it adds to what I owe you . Don't bother saving me, I don't even want you to. Your not gonna get any thanks from me. You can set me back down on the safe ground and I'm just gonna walk away. Anyway it's not like you really cared. Just give up.
So i was thinking today of words i like, i mean they sound cool, among the words I like saying are: bewildered, awareness, Siamese, plethora, vinyl, asunder, rue, the Spanish word, Tambien, and exactly. Some words like pregnant , heinous,gramatically, and phonetically sound pretty cool when you say them, like they make a bubble in your mouth or you hit a cool pitch and your ears perk up when you hear them. I am also fond of some words that aren’t even words like hopefully (yeah that‘s right it isn‘t a word technically), and edumacation. I think I’m done.
As I'm writing this I'm on my first cup of coffee and second yogurt for breakfast. It's unusually healthy for me. I don't know what words to use once again and I have a feeling this will come out as stupid and as awkward as I felt it did last night. Why do I love to hurt myself? I'll indulge you. I love making things more and difficult. If he knew what was good for him he would hate me. I guess that's the price you pay for being 16. Yeah, your just jealous cause I'm young and in love.
So I guess a little head cold is the price you pay for sleeping with your windows open… Oh well it was nice until the covers came off. I stayed up late after coming home because I absolutely love falling asleep when I'm exhausted because I can't think at all. There are just no thought processes, just dreams of warm sleep. Those pure moments before falling asleep aren't filled with worries about the project I didn't do, or the person I shouldn't have led on.. Exhaustion is the only feeling I love feeling any more.. the only one I welcome.
The room where I have british lit in is warm and sleep comes easily. Thoughts seem to dissapear when it's like 75 degrees. I like it, it's comfortable and I wouldn't have it any other way. McDuff can yell and soliloquy as much as he wants but for now I am happy and Shakespeare is still dead. Gentle heaven and poetic dreams melt as these window shades fend off light and there are no problems inside this door. It's a sanctuary where I read some dead guys art. Just one question Shakespeare.. Why do the chicks always go crazy first?
I waste so much time waiting for coffee it's just insane. I wait for people too, but coffee is the one thing I could wait for hours for. I can hear it steeping as I have no clue what to write. I'm listening to One line drawing now. Their music is calming and the guys voice is so young and high he's gotta be like 12. It started with your letter well "your letter", this song I downloaded by accident and now I'm addicted to it. Well, now it's your turn to wait. I need coffee and perhaps a shower.
It's snowing now. I don't know why but for some reason whenever snow first hits the ground, I'd rather not have to venture outside. I'd rather just stay in bed now. I'll just look at the crystalline frozen snow bullshit outta my window. It's cold and wet and I don't ever feel the need to interact with it. Then it expects me to shovel it. But now it's pouring down in it's lame fluffy lumps and as long is it stay out there and I'm in here it's ok, and you can tell me it's beautiful for all I care.
Ok I'm behind like a lot. I didn't mean to, but for some reason I just couldn't make myself think of 100 words to type. I'm the biggest procrastinator in the world. I guess for me getting things done on time just isn't fun and I'm a glutton for punishment.. It's the morning and I'm waiting for him to call. Waiting to be taken away to do something else then sit and feel bad about not writing my 100 fucking words. Hey hey only like 11 left. Hmm… "he saw her, she saw him and they saw everything." There, brilliant!
I like the fact that the hardest decision I had to make today was if I wanted French Vanilla or Butter Pecan coffee creamer. I mean it's a really nice conflict compared to everything else. I like my fuzzy slippers and my cozy pajamas. I like the house being empty and silent and how the sun somehow manages to shine through no matter how many curtains you put between it and you. I like the vagueness of each thought that passes. I like not having to think about you, or anyone else for that matter, because it's all me now.
Random thoughts to fill this empty space. 1st of all.. Why am I doing this? 2nd of all? Who wants to read this? And finally 3rd of all.. I'm actually getting bored writing this. I cannot prepare you for my really shitty writing skills world. I can barely come up with a complete thought. I see everyone else on this sight come up with some really cool shit. I mean good shit I couldn't think of if I had years to think. But here is my 100 words. Telling you to beware of them, because they are just that pointless.
These words really add up after a while but the question is what do they add up to? I'm kind of a screw off. But at least this is getting me to sit down and write something. I feel like I've had to compensate for something. Like in order to survive I've thrown stuff overboard things I might need later, but I don't know what they are, I'm afraid that if I find out I could really want them back, start to miss them. So I'll sit her dumbly not really wanting to know. But being curious about it nonetheless.
Mondays are the worst invention ever. There isn't anything to even be said about that. Not even a mere 100 words. This is a waste of cyberspace even as I write it. I hate when it's so hard to wake up it's almost painful and I keep on thinking that I shoulda just slept and studied all weekend but no, I spent it doing nothing interesting nothing worthwhile. Then I actually have the gall to think that next weekend will be different. This weekend I know why there are so many songs about broken love and hating Mondays. Common Ground.
I'm tired but this needs to be done. I had my band concert tonight, no not the cool kinda band, the nerdy one, the one where you can say "I'm with the band" and NOT sound cool. I'm in the better band of the two, if it accounts for anything, not that it should, but it gives me a reason to read the music and make it sound good and put this cold metal mouthpeice to my lips. Yeah, it's because of those people standing up and clapping. Those people who are more aware of my talent then I am.
This day was forgotten. I apologize, I didn't even realize it until a little while ago. Poor little December 17, no words. I don't know how it snuck by me and I dunno how it went, in fact I remember nothing of the day. As I check the calender I can see it was a Wednesday, I usually don't remember Wednesdays as they have nothing to contribute. But I apologize to this forgotten day for not taking any time out of it's boring lapses of minutes to write 100 words about the day I that didn't change a damn thing.
This still doesn't feel right. It's been forever and I still want to move slower than this. I want to be barely moving. I wanna go so slow that I don't even notice myself gaining ground. I'm sorry if this comes out so stupid it's just that I'm in a rush and totally confused. There are no words to describe it anymore, 4 years ago I would have come up with something more creative to write but now it's old and only a few are left to pay merciless attention to my redundant pining, that's been going on for years.
I didn't want this day to even begin, I would have been perfectly happy letting it float by as long as I was in my bed. Last night was nice and I didn't want to leave. But I did and I went to sleep alone feeling empty. But I went to sleep nonetheless. I never thought I'd want this, but I guess I do and now I'm floating into it and I couldn't care less, it's nice being in the middle of something I think. Just because it beats sitting around waiting, it's nice tobe with you. Thaks for that.
Nothing feels good anymore. I can't even find a way to make it meerly interesting. It's been a while since I decided to sign up for this and I can't remember why I was so idealistic to think I could do this. Last night for no particular reason around midnight or so, I decided to go through my old journals and shit. Which is fine for anyone who isn't some insane writer maniac with over 50 notebooks filled with the most randomest of thoughts and the roughest of ideas.
I don't remember the date. Oh well, it's early morning on a Sunday, that's all I know. Noone's online, everyone is still in bed, unless your some extreme god enthusiast, then your at church, but if your like me you'd be in bed. I'm addicted to yet another song, it's mellow and guitar is added in pieces and the guys voice in so high it's like he's on the verge of hysteria. So be quiet and drive or go back to sleep. That's what Sundays are for. You don't need instruction, I need a few hours alone with this song.
Peace and chaos seem really close today. They could be brothers, either can happen. I could throw it all away or become attached really easily, but yet I sit and wait and say nothing of what I'm thinking. Who can I tell who would It matter to? No one really. I guess alone is where I'll stay. Everything is quiet, like an undertone. No one here is saying what they want. They just talk nervously about anything to keep them from saying what their insides are screaming. Wanting to know what it's like to have something to believe in again.
I did nothing yesterday. I woke up and saw the clock blinking 12:53 and then realized that I just slept for 13 hours. It was kinda funny yet I felt bad. I spent most of my few hours awake in pajamas, doing nothing but watching "Son in Law" and idling away my time. I didn't even pick up a guitar or anything, I did absolutely nothing. And what's more it didn't feel good. I didn't feel satisfied, I just spent those few hours that I was awake with a sneaking suspicion that I could have been doing something more worthwhile.
I have absolutely nothing to say. No words of some idiotic episode I recently did or anything. Nothing. I'm bored. I'm so bored that I actually think that I could hang myself with the boredom itself. When your boredom begins to take on some physical form then you know your screwed. Spent most of the day listening to Pretty Girls Dig Graves and eating random food I think looks interesting. My toenails are painted green and the T.V is on mute some random books lay on my messy bed. I miss the scene. I miss real punk rock. This sucks.
Theres this song with a very counterproductive line "How could I have a will so weak with a mind so strong" . It's amazing that you have so little want to do anything with a song like that playing in the backround. Becouse what will it do? If I do homework there will only be more. If I clean my room it will only get messy again. If I build up my self asteem it will only get ripped down. I'll leave saving the world and cleaning up my life to a time when this song isn't stuck on repeat.
Days behind, of course. Everyone expects it of me. I guess they should. I'm just that unreliable. Every second my judgement changes, and I feel like I'm losing more and more of who I was and becoming some strange new being. I don't know if we get along yet, her and I. We have a mutual understandning, but the animal is always feeding. It's not going to stop, and sooner or later when I have fled from the scene of the dead corpse that was me, there will be a competition of sorts, to see which one of us wins.
For no reason in particular I woke up this morning same time as usual, 6:30, after a long break and didn't feel dead tired. I didn't have to jerk myself off bed. I just got up, got clothes, made coffee, in this sort of routine that seems like I've never broken. I spent the last 2 weeks about doing nothing. And yet here it all seems like it doesn't even matter. The coffee still needs to be made and life is still going to go on with itself. I'm not shocked by this or anything. I just think it's nice.
I hate people who make rules to a free idea. I hate people who think they understand something when they have only knowledge of only 1 point of view. I hate people who know that they're hot, and use it to hurt you . I hate people who don't know how to stop, but always try to hold you back. I hate trying so hard to get to mediocre, and someone who doesn't try for shit gets so much further than that. I hate people who don't know what pain is. Becouse then they try to judge you for yours.
Yesterday, I covered the kind of people I don't like. Today, I like some people. I like people who don't know how cool they are. I like people who are extremely bizarre, the kind of people who are such spazzes and intellectuals that you wanna dive inside their brains to see how it works. I like the kinda people who keep you guessing. I like the people that like everything about you. I like boys with nice hair and common sense. I like people that have a past, long scars on their arms, and know what it's like to hurt.
I spent a part of my morning sitting across from my guidance counselor, whom I've only met once, planning out the rest of my life. It was funny because I knew exactly what I want to do, and how I'm gonna do it. I guess this is unlike most kids my age in Chuck Taylors. So I tell her my master plan. I don't know if it will go according to plan, but the plan is everything. It gives me a reason. She says thanks and goodbye, and that next time she wants me to know which office is hers.
Maybe tonight I want a show to end peacefully, or maybe even a fight, rather than this stupid indifference. All these groups just huddling together with their arms crossed as the band plays is obnoxious. Heaven forbid we talk to each other, or aknowledge each others presence. We came out here to hear this music, not to look at each other and whisper silently "poser". Maybe I'm the only one. Maybe I can't see the culture I love turn into a culture that hates and excludes. I could be wrong, but I think your just scared of what you become.
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