my immature and insecure side

like

how is it my fault

that I can't get a straight answer out of you

and I'm telling you, it matters a lot to me

and I like you enough not to hold it against you

all you have to say

is yes. or no.

and she couldn't do me that

its really hard to get people on the same page

like maybe she did see you as a great friend with some possibility she probs wanted to move slow

ik i try to make sense out of it too. but girls do that. _____ did it to me. its terrible

aye

I love her to death though, it's instinct

I couldn't hate her

so if she comes around some day, I think I'd give it a chance

but I'm not going to worry about it, if I can help it

Arguments Against Fat Acceptance (Reposted)

Yo, I'm gonna give some honest criticism here. First of all, I think thicker girls can be sexy, that's not my problem. I've been overweight the majority of my life, at one point I'd even say obese. However, after having lost nearly 100lbs since highschool, I have to say that a lot of my problems came from my own insecurities and lack of self-control. I realized that a lot of people weren't judging me for being overweight; they were judging me for being reclusive and seemingly hostile. Over-eating is self-destructive behavior, and self-destructive behavior pours into other factors of your life, such as your self-esteem and interactions with others. My girlfriend loved my fat ass, but I felt so inadequate compared to her jockish friends. Eventually our relationship failed because I couldn't accept *myself.* Now, I admit that our own media makes the overweight feel marginalized, but by giving special attention and compassion to the overweight, without addressing their lack of nutrition and exercise, we create an even worse standard of mental health than we already have. It's not small-minded to be attracted to a fit body any more than it's small-minded to be heterosexual or gay. My problem with all of these social justice movements is that they nitpick at side-effects of our alienating culture, and thus create more alienation. How about a movement where we get rid of Usury and political corruption? It should be acceptable to tell your friend that you think they eat too much, or smoke too much. If you can't handle your own friends being concerned for you, then you're not really *their* friend. And the fact is, you don't need a movement to make people like you based on some positive stereotype. Your individual personality is what counts. Furthermore, assholes are gonna be assholes - how about a movement where we toughen up, instead of a hugbox that feeds our bad habits and reinforces our ideas? A lot of liberal thinkers seem to use amorphous, pseudo-scientific sociological arguments that are literally meaningless, but "sound" academic. That's another thing all together, though. Whether you're overweight, poor, a minority, or what have you, using other's "privilege" is not an excuse for your own shortcomings. I say this having witnessed a lot of "Fat Acceptance" arguments where personal responsibility is completely avoided to scapegoat thin/fit people. I'm sorry if this isn't the appropriate place to post this, but starvation is a legitimate problem in the world, and I can't watch in idle as people try to justify gluttony. Again, this is coming from a still-overweight guy who recognizes his carbon impact on the rest of the world. That said, stay confident in yourselves. If you have trouble with your body image, change what you can, and be proud of the rest. As for anyone with a strange disease that causes disproportionate amounts of fat build up, you can still do your best to eat healthy and stay strong. Also wtf is this "Girls Only" bullshit. Equality and acceptance my ass, fucking hypocrites. Liberalism, conservatism, affiliation-ism, etc. is a mental disease caught by the plebeian class.

booty of the hoodlum rockin' my red hood

i will overcome i will overcome i will overcome i will overcome in my heart I know there is a way out. It's not an extensional exit. I can't walk away and never feel these things again. I don't want to forget hate or bitterness. I think I got exactly what I asked for. Working, making friends, going out, "moving forward" with life... It all just left me feeling so hollow. This is what I wanted. I wanted another bout of misery. Something so intense I could draw from it for the rest of my life. I will. I don't wish to be some flat, two-dimensional love box. I have so many demons inside of me. But even these demons have become my friends. To help the world, to impact the world, I need to understand more than just who I am. But some people skip that part entirely. I would feel blind if I didn't know my own nature the way I know it now. Actually, that describes it perfectly. I've felt impaired, chaotic, and empty for as long as I can remember. I've learned to slow myself, and feel. Yes, I get angry. Yes, I get sad. I've been suicidal and starved myself. I don't complain to my friends. They wouldn't understand. Sometimes I feel like the baby. Sometimes I feel like the adult. The point is, I'm different. If there's a blindspot in the human experience, I'm here to open the lid a bit further. I'll piss off progressives and conservatives alike in my lifetime. I'll never agree with indoctrination. Yes, there is liberal indoctrination. It's just as cancerous to the mind as so-called "narrowminded conservative ways." All in all, one day this blog will be used against me in court of law. I know this because our society is terrified of truth. The herd mustn't be spoiled. Hm.

rotgut

ITEeUdE. I have so, so much hate right now. Why is family so disgusting? And peers, so vapid? Maybe I'm the one that is vapid and disgusting. No... Yes. Of course I'm sick. Mentally ill. But so are they. Every day I understand more and more about human nature. We are not sacred. We are not any sort of pinacle or apex. As I watch my generation mature and grow, I feel more alien. They didn't see what I did, did they? Years ago. While they were still choking on Algebra. Do they deserve to be called people? Maybe I'm the one who is not a person. Still, there are those who shine so beautifully. I worry their light may be squandered, along with my own. "Art Degree" I... I hope you're kidding, right? Were you even an artist beforehand? Just throw some money around, I'm sure they'll "teach" you talent. Forget the unique experience. Forget give and take. You want the whole bar to yourself. I went here and saw this! But who are you, and what do you know? The names of expensive wine? I'm no STEM student. I didn't need a professor to teach me the standard library. I'm very object oriented. I am polymorphic. I know memory management. For fun. I have yet to earn a single dollar bill or red cent for my talents; and I have many. You see, I'm not a tool for my own usury. I have to respect my inner animal, and my inner saint. There is no da Vinci this year. I wait for the singularity. Not even then will I relate to you faggots. And by faggots, I mean people who get uppity over the word faggot. Fuck you, nigger. I kinda like black people, but I wish they'd let me use that word. Ahhhh. Has anyone here lived with two heroin junkies? Who steal from and lie to you? Who cry to you between withdrawals? Beg for your support, as they pass gas from the blood they needled out of your heart? That's a good facebook status. "My childhood heroes are both fucking helpless losers who are killing the rest of my family." Our house is empty. I have no possessions but a bed, phone, and guitar. You'd be frantic too if you needed shelter from your shelter. I hope I forgive the world for its ignorance. I hope I don't murder the next compassionless twat calling for social justice. You think I'm crude, selfish, apathetic? Mayhaps. But my heart was once overflowing with That essence you are shamelessly searching for. Transitions are rarely pretty. I scored a 166 on an IQ test when I was 10. The test was meant for adults 18 and up. None of my family members could come close. The next week I scored a 175. Don't you see the fire that burns so fiercely inside of me? IQ tests back then moreso measured your test taking ability than your individual Mental skills, such as logic, spatial reasoning, and whatever the fuck else our brains Can do. I'm terrified of taking one now, I'm pretty sure I'd barely hit 130 on a single stat. Haha, nahh... There's something crazy about my brain. I can be gullible, and forgetful, and Even downright ignorant. But the raw speed and clarity of my instincts... I can feel my thoughts Faster than I can think them. The challenge of time and rhythm. Ahh. And the yin yang of Logic and Imagination. I can bend and contort the pictures and sounds and smells and feels Around my body. Synesthetia, it's called. The sheer rush of a gunz duel. The overconfidence In chess. The surprises and challenges that I have never quite felt... defeated by. Only inspired. There is literally no one that could validate me. Not even myself. This isn't art, what you're reading. It's culture. It's raw and sincere. I have.. no self esteem. I also have an immense ego. Mostly, I am harmlessly contemplative. The worst I could do is call you a Coward. Like a feline that hides from friends. I take it back, maybe you're retarded, too. I fucking hate people. I hate people as much as I love the grass, the trees, the sky, the stars, the moon, the air, If you only knew the love I am capable of, and understood its intensity. You would dissentigrate. And die. My contempt is likewise. You fucking piece of shit. My house smells like cigarettes and my materials are in your veins.. Over a fucking cunt named andrea. She was an overgrown child, and a user. You "love" her? You handed her your heart and she crumpled it between your fingers. Bah. I'm a mediocre writer. My life is going to be wonderful when I severe my ties Sigh.. am I just one of those emo teenagers being edgy and cursing his family? Its just such a shock. How can literally everyone be a two faced piece of shit? I don't mean everyone. Just most of you... I can't wait for the day I die. But first, I need to have wild, passionate sex and conceive some little problems of my own. Or do I want a harem of ladies from around the world? Decisions, decisions. I might be too sick at this point to be a father. But I think having a child will help me make Right with the world. You know that old saying, "I want to give my kid a life I didn't have." No matter how profoundly genius I find myself at times, I have to say I am very much Dominated with feeling. The chaotic part of life is as vital to me as the structured, Peaceful life. I wish I could share this chaos, but there is no form in which is not disruptive. To my fellow intellectuals and transcendentals, I apologize if I get left behind. No time is wasted, There is observation and wisdom to be extrapolated from every waking moment. It's not a waste for us to depart. It's just two worlds crossing paths. To understand these instinctual urges is to live them, and only then are they truly subdued. To me, a true pacifist is someone that detests violence only after having understood it. Its instant feeling of relief, excitement, and justice. It's to be ALIVE for fuck's sake. There is no drug or orgasm that compares. In today's world, there's no place for blood lust. But it's a part of who we are, just as much as the part that is civil and loving! It's all interwoven. What the fuck does your brain do to make you think blue and red aren't just shades of gray? Since no one's reading this, can I just say my exes are missing out? You guys all sound so bored with your new flings.

Interested in the Uninterested

I love you, {internal female composite}. Except, not really. If I did, I wouldn't get so bitter about you. I know, I acted a fool. I was afraid of losing that positive feeling, and now I'm resentful about it. Love is a kind of acceptance. To borrow from a poet I know, "I'd look the other way, for you. I'd look both ways, for you." I'll admit, I was horny, frustrated, and highly infatuated. But I forced myself to be that way. I didn't really know how a man should act. I still don't know, but more importantly, I don't think it matters how much my masculinity weighs. Being a good, or hell, decent, person is still one of my biggest goals in life. Some day you'll move away, maybe have some kids of your own. They'll be beautiful because they're yours; they'll be wonderful, because they're yours. My interest in you is unhealthy. I know. At first I wasn't even attracted to you. You seemed like the opposite of what I was looking for. But even behind your facade I see someone I genuinely like, and appreciate. I get mad sometimes and want to send something cold hearted your way. Sometimes I just want to come clean and admit I'm hopelessly fixated on you. My dad writes stupid shit like this all the time. Maybe it's something genetic. I know you're not perfect. I know you could turn around and make me feel like shit if it pleased you (and maybe someday it will, shucks). But as long as you're fundamentally that same contemplative, soft-hearted person, I'll always feel something for you. I get so stressed out that I can't think straight. It's hard. A few minutes in your presence would make everything alright. But I just can't bring myself to bother you. With every shred of sense and self control I have, I do my best to let you carry on without discomforting you. Who am I kidding? That's some love right there. Maybe if you read this, you'll pity me and throw yourself at me. It's all I can hope for, I am so desperate. That last bit was a joke, but yknow we can always talk if you're ever down. I think you'd get a kick out of how I honestly feel about you. Maybe someday when we're both with somebody, it won't be so awkward.

nicotine fit

Hate speech should be protected under free speech, as someday any dissent could be labeled hate speech. I was raised to let everyone have their say; to let their words bounce as if I'm rubber. Not all beings are of equal potential, but all should have equal consequence and praise for their actions. Embryos are inherently parasitic, and should only be carried out of love. Life is precious, but it's also hard. Death is merciful to the tortured, diseased, preyed upon, and simply unfortunate. Morality should have nothing to do with fear of punishment. That is wicked obedience. The rest of the world is both laughing at us and crying for us. Racial differences are superficial, but cultural differences are very real. We're all a little racist, a little sexually deviant, a little bigoted, a little stupid. Tolerance is a two way street, and demanding tolerance is like covering a footprint by stamping on it. People are animals, and animals are like people. We're all swine next to an oak tree. Consumerism is good because it helps the economy which helps consumerism which is good because it helps the economy. Follow the money, they say. The truly poorest of the world's poor make our "disadvantaged" folk look like pimps. Hiveminded individuals aren't really individuals. Artists and scientists are not things you become with four years of school. College is there to refine what you already are. Tumblr social justice warriors make actual altruists and human rights activists look mentally ill. I'm probably ill. Nobody and nothing is as crazy or stupid as it seems. Not even me, not even you. Thinking about thoughts will snap you from that statue trap. The nature of the self is intuitively counter-intuitive. That is, it'll come to you, but it'll leave you, too.

I don't like the idea of this being some public sympathy magnet. I just don't know who I can tell at this hour. My mom passed away. I feel sad, sick, angry, and honestly useless. She was only 37. It hurts to say goodbye so soon. We didn't have the best relationship. But it was special, because my mom could tell you exactly how I feel. I can't even do that. My sisters cried their little eyes out this morning. I wish it would hit me already. Maybe telling someone will help. I don't know. My mom believed in heaven and angels. She listened to bomb ass hip-hop/punk/music in general. When I was little we would watch Matilda and Edward Scissorhands. She taught me that honesty was the best policy, and that practice makes perfect. She also believed that all things would come to pass. My heart aches so bad. Today I'll believe in heaven for you. I'd say rest in peace, but I know you'll party hard up there. I love you! I'll miss being called your "sunshine." So. Much.

Gotta Keep Holding On

(I've basically been autofiring words and thoughts lately. This isn't really "work" as it is relief. Also the first part is moreso about a meltingpot of overwhelming feelings than lamenting over not being able to find THE ONE.)

For what?

For something great to happen.

I haven't felt this way in years. It's beyond romantic heartbreak. Is it not despair?

To be misunderstood. I remain unsolved by companionship. I never expected someone to figure me out.

I wanted to figure me out.

And yet the escapism of two people finding each other distracts me further.

As does the sweet leaf, oh how I love you.

Yin, she isn't on this Earthly plain.

And that dream? In the restaurant, that beautiful woman wearing the red kimono.

Why did she tell me her name?

Why do I still search for a woman, with that name?

Codependency starts with bad parenting.

I'm not fit to be a father. I couldn't handle the strain of looking into my son's eyes
as he calls me worthless. I'd believe him. I'd become worthless.

And one day he'll blame himself for making me such a sorry person, and in turn
apologize to everyone he meets, attempting to make amends.

We're just cycles, right?

Wheels, spinning. That's not right. We're nothing happening.

Every day my head pulses and aches.

I don't have the heart to spill guts. You'd lash out defensively to reassure your way of life. If only I had everything you had, then I'd be happy, right? Because you're happy, right? There are some things in life that you can not work for. That you can not alter beyond superficial means.

You, with all of your growth, you have not seen what that means. You don't understand that your progress becomes meaningless in isolation.

You don't know meaning yet.

Meaning is the most powerful magic at human disposal. Meaning is the foundation and grain of the Universe. It is the force that propels motion and all of its complexity. It is the isolated sound and image of ones own mind. It is the emotion behind reason.

The power of meaning is in the secret of its power. It is a paradox of tangible illusion.




Meaning is the internal exchange of one vast Universe.

And each person, each family, each material connection and relationship, is a form of meaning.



The only meaningless worlds are the ones in our heads. They are ghostly mimes of a world we have already experienced. They lack subtlety and context behind the actions and ideas. To imagine you are president of Earth is not a meaningful world. It is a copy of our world, with gaps between the pieces. Without those vital pieces fully realized, there are no gears to turn these fantasy worlds. No amount of imagination or thought can account for the individual atomic structures of even one misplaced event.

In a way, all things have their place. Humans, people, us, me, you. Our place is together. Without each other, who are we to love, hate, respect, compete with? Our lone selves?
Should I truly spend my entire life believing so firmly in myself? Can't you admit the paradox? Love is selfish. Selfishness is a blackhole of suffering for the rest of the world. The love of food ruins the lives of plants and animals. The love of another confines them to expectations and conditions. For if they want your love, they must compromise who they are.

Spend my entire life, alone. That's what my friend decided to do. I'm considering following suit. Cut off ties and become myself. I'll prove everything to myself, and it will be great. No one is greater than the greatest person I can imagine.

And then what? I've mastered my happiness, life, work. I think that even the Buddha understood the unnecessary pain of such a life. Despite his control, I doubt he could have happily died with his secrets. Never shedding light on another. He had to teach his way; ultimately return to people. His life very much depended on others; whether for their reflection, or for their presence.

Even he could not relinquish his vague, lingering sense of loneliness.

If you need everything spelled out for you; If you believe every impression the world gives you; If everything needs to be expressed semantically, with adherence to your highschool English teacher's standard of communication; If you find personal offense in the world of the abstract;
Then your stability, happiness, and comfort are already forfeit.

Enjoy your 20s, they say.

digression

rebellion and adrenalin composed my early self. i got a nasty kick out of tormenting my parents. even now such antics loosen up the nerves.

i wonder, how many more sides do i have to pull? stripped of loving kindness, and slowly caked with nihilism. i cant de-evolve, just change. a person is not only all they have done, but they are their environment. their own anger brings hostility to their homes. when i learn not to sound like a condescending jerk, people will stop arguing with me. thats the idea, right?

i kind of like arguments, honestly. that flustered, animal side of you comes out. it shows where your emotions are really coming from with your words. some people get scared by this. i dont like people who are afraid and give in to fear. these are the kinds of people who would stand there if you got the upper hand while getting mugged.

when i give up my juvenile grudges against myself, you know, quit being a masochist, then i will find some proper education. ive always had hard, honest work in mind. i can crack the whip.

someone around me is a monster. that monster breaths down my neck and tells me what he wants me to become. i resist. in time my face, my hair, my voice, and even my... motives... became that monsters.

the worst part about this monster is,
its advice is really good. so you end up loving it
but ultimately it doesnt care, so it eats you anyway.

Quit projecting how you feel into my words. Fuck you.

My parents were superstitious potheads and burned their own supernatural stories into my head. I've always felt like a spirit was keeping me from reality; as protection of sort. Sometimes I feel guided by this, others I feel abandoned. Or rather, left to my own devices.

I was obsessed with horror movies and videogames as a child. Nightmare fuel and rollercoasters were my jones.

Now I quietly wait for nothing to happen, wondering what it is my feelings were meant for.



Some people of mine seem frustrated in my lack of motivation. Oh you're so smart! But why aren't you going to college and accumulating debt so you can get a house and accumulate debt? You can worry about your hobbies and your passions later in life, when you're in debt and taking care of little debt monsters. You must be lazy, they say.

No. I'm just afraid of living a life in the dark. You have such a frightened look on your face when you talk about money; how much you wish you had, how much you spent, how long it took to save x amount, how much more other people have for doing y.

When I think about all of the titles and degrees I could pursue, nothing really speaks out as meaningful. Title alone guarantees jack shit. And passing four to eight years of tests ensures a semantic understanding; not a spacial, visual, theoretical one.

My idols had to jump through hoops to wear little lab coats that let them develop byproducts of military research. There's no money in saving people. They want their dicks in our pockets until the day we die, and will loot our burning corpses when we say "no."

Turn on a television and laugh with those pearly white monkey teeth. Let dramatic music and rhetoric sway your senses and logic. Change your life because your parents cried over the fucking BOGEYMAN.


I'm not saying action is meaningless, or that there is nothing to stand for. I'm calling you all infighting twats. Gullible pigsheeps. Speak in tongues and spew chunks of dogma. Quit sucking charismatic cock. Slurp slurp slurp. There, do you feel worthwhile now?



I'm ranting like an idiot now. It doesn't matter.

Master every skill. Focus on survival. Learn to question everything. Educate yourself, and don't feel content with your understanding because some beard with glasses marked an "A" on a multiple choice test of yours.

I'll never get a chance to tell anyone anything meaningful. I'm interrupted even now. When my anxiety and frustration call for complete attention to what I'm expressing, it simply isn't allowed.

I'm not going to hold onto hot coals. There will never be a chance for me to calmly "write things out," because those feelings will not be there in their purity. My breathing is stifled. I'm sorry if I become a crockpot someday. It hurts my feelings when something that feels so true is overlooked for traditional ignorance and reassurance.

I'm running out of sand.