From LJ

12/19/07 12:38 pm - ::disconnected::
I don't have an identity. I'm lost in a crowd of black clothed zombies with too much make up and fake smiles. They don't notice me. I'm invisible. I stand out because I'm trying to hard to be them. My makeup looks plastic and my clothes don't match. They don't notice me.

Falling and falling, over and over again. Nobody catches you; it's endless. High heels and long nails. What defines? Why ask these questions? There aren't any answers. Chin up. Stay focused. Remember those "goals"? What do you make of them now? You're still just falling; you can't be taken seriously, not the way you're going about it. I trace perfect lips in my mind, and draw them over and over again on sheets of notebook paper that should contain the things I learn. They make me keep falling. Suspended in ecstasy; it'll hang me eventually.

Trying too hard to fit in a mold. Unfinished, unclean, unworthy. "Describe yourself in 5 words or less: " Done. I can't be confined to a survey, to these words - simple signs that mean nothing to the signified. "Ce n'est pas une pipe" - more like "ce n'est pas une personne". You were right, Magritte. Don't connect what should be apart.

Bodies moving to the rhythm of an unheard beat. I know I'm here in this room at this computer, listening to meaningless sounds and observing pieces of life that don't matter. Every conversation, every syllable spoken is important. Nobody knows it was all meant to be. You wouldn't care anyways. I never thought I would move to that same rhythm. I was wrong. My incompetence roars in my face, stares me down, makes me cower behind this unrighteous slab of reality. I want to make sense of it. What I dream of and what is true. How do you know?

Laughter and television, music around my neck. Smooth strokes violently dig into the canvas. This is my sanctuary, my haven, my home. I have no place in geography; my only knowledge is of this, is what I've been given. Family and heartbeats, the melody of languages I don't speak, living beings around me. I am apart from them among them, as it should be. Always apart. Always a smile and a story, though I don't know how to speak.

Tears don't matter, arguements, ideas, excuses. Always something. Why do you care? Why fight a losing battle? Make it worth it, be worth it. Make a masterpiece out of life. Can't make a masterpiece out of paint unless you do that first.
Current Location: The Library
Current Mood: pensive