Nothing fits in your pockets, because you'll always be wanting so much more

Was that why you never wanted to be in pictures? You didn't want to be remembered?

I'll just pretend that you like me and we can both pretend to thus move on with our lives.

Lists, Lists, and more Lists

I've found myself making lots of lists, or at least, typing lots of things with colons in them.

the reason I got on the cpu: was gonna work on cpu programming hw

what I am doing: tumblr

things I should do: sleep

things I do instead: EVERYTHING ELSE

I don't clench my teeth when I sleep; rather, I do it when I am conscious, and completely unaware of it

then I transfer such energy to gnawing on my lip

things I cannot handle: social interactions, social interactions, social interactions

things I want: friends, happiness, love, a dream.

people that make me uncomfortable online: those that are there, but I can't bring myself to talk to/start up a conversation with them

what tags are:

• stream of consciousness when referring to the picture in front of you
• ways for people to find you
• definitions
• feelings
• credits
• organization tools
• hidden messages you don't want to say out loud officially, but which must be said nonetheless

iknowimrebloggingalotofquotesrightnowshutuptheymakemehappyireallylikethemandthisblog

also: things I should do on my Mundane blog: quote books. endlessly.

Sleeping time is now, at the hour past midnight, when all goes dark and the monstrous silence starts to creep in, its chilled breath sending shivers down your spine. And so you sleep, and escape this threat, letting yourself breathe in only the sweet air of dreamland, where the monster is subdued.

Stop

1:19am

Stop being there for me because then I'll want to rely on you and if I rely on you that will only be a burden to you, which will then make me withdraw the second I see you going through hardship and not relying on me back. Though, really, why would you rely on me back? You have much better, more quality friends than I. People always do. They don't realize how much I care about them and worry and worry and worry and imagine. Oh god imagination is the worse sort of thing a person can do when they've got vampires inside their head. Things start to creep and form and twist in your mind until all you can see is darkness in the world and you stop seeing the positive or trying to be daring because all you can see and predict, all of the blank space, is filled in with such horrible things that can't possibly be true but you accept them all the same, and live in a constant fear of your dark imagination turning into reality.

Stop being there for me because I will want to rely on you and the more I rely on you, the more I will expect you to be there, and so when you're not there things will just go bad, they'll go downhill, and I'll want you to be there, and I'll wish for you to be there, but I cannot express this desire because I don't want you to feel bad about not being there when I needed you because really it isn't your fault that my mind and my fingers run so fast, so rapidly into darkness when it gets late at night and the world seems oh so very far away and I want you to be there for me.

So just don't be there for me, okay? Because I don't want to rely on you, and trust you, and love you, only to have all of that taken away from me for some unknown, unforseen reason, leaving me worse off than before.. I don't want that, okay? I don't want things taken away from me. I want to remain whole, even if that means being alone. I want to be okay. I want to be okay.

-I don't want to be alone. So don't leave me alone, okay? Stay by my side, okay? Don't leave me. Don't leave me. I'm not as strong as I look, or as I pretend to be. Not always. I need somebody. I do. I do. I need you.-

I'll just end up chasing you away.

I always do.

1:28am

Things are going..

I'm still lingering in that place that has long abandoned me, even though i have not abandoned them. I still think about them occasioonally, but just on the surface. I don't want to delve too deeply into that pit of despair. I said bad things about them? never. and i could prove it to them, too, but who would believe me, the archiver? i could change it, they could say. cut out bits i didn't like. but still. i never thought ill of any of them. at least not aloud, to them. to my ginger, perhaps, but not to them, those that live in that community. not that i've ever hated any of them. and being mean to their characters is not the same as being mean to them themselves. i liked the people hiding behind the people. i really did.

but i think it's true that this summer has scarred me, a bit. i am going forward and yet back. frightened even more than before of being hated, of being despised, for a reason that i know not. and Rok, he and i are still fb friends. what does that even mean? is there hope for us yet? i don't know if i want to hope anymore on that end. and those that i have blocked, i have given up on. why defriend me? what did I do to you? what did i do? what did i do? if i cannot know, i can only question everything instead of something specific. assume that you merely grew to hate my essence, what made me me.

so now when i reach out on the internet, the silence is the thing that unnerves me the most. you aren't responding, not because you are busy, no, but because your heart has grown to despise me, as you will all inevitably do, and you do not wish to answer such garbage. my words that are garbage; me, that is garbage. all of you. that is how you think, or rather, how your silence thinks and is, in my mind. it is twisted, yes, and it isn't that i lack faith in you, rather, i lack faith in me to be liked.

pathetic little me. oh don't worry, i don't need love, nor seek it. i can pine after him, but it will never come to fruit, for i am too strange, not sweet enough, not likaeble enough to be liked. i have years of proof, after all. plenty of broken examples.

snakes feel like me, slithering through teh dry mud that was once a wet, high lake

and when i'm talking to those that i know like me for who i am, i can't help but feel like if i can't belittle myself then i am insufficient and imperfect. those mistakes eat at me, they do, for i remember them and how inadequate i was then, and my mind wanting to fix rthem, to polish them to perfection.

degradation, or is it decline of everything that is leading to this endless flow of incorrectness

it is to show you, or perhaps me, how wrong everything is right now

but really, i can suppress it all, i can get past it because i am strong and i need no one but myself. i know that you are there for me, and yet i feel reluctant to talk to you about anything significant. i feel like the words fall by the wayside, thus becoming meaningless

I have found new bruises formed
by which to remember you by
cuts and scrapes, too
all remind me of you
The time we spent together
now gone

My father is sometimes, no, frequently, the most unreliable man on the planet.

"A man is not truly a man if he does not have a flattering hat."

--Jeph

Ehk,

When I see you on the phone with that child, I feel like I've failed you completely as a friend.

Completely.

You say that you care, but you're lying.

You easily forget the simplest of things.
Like troubled eyesight,
sprained ankle,
and that never ends.

Doesn't it worry you?

I don't like being griped at.

Especially not after today.