The ticking time bomb

There are times when I want to explode. To explode from excitement, disgust, rage, contentment, love. If having certain characteristics and behaviors is valuable to be avoided, it's not necessarily a bad thing to still possess/execute them. I wish I remembered this and didn't loathe myself so much at times for making all the mistakes I do.

I require justification and explanations to forgive (myself). But when I'm suddenly stuck with one that doesn't meet my criteria of a reasonable excuse, there will be hell fire and soul-piercing icicles. Torment that knows no boundaries.

It's amazing how good I am at creating illusions... ones that I may believe more than the people I've created them for; to amaze, entertain. Oh, have I got a show for you, boys and girls, another story for another time.

People disgust me

Everything is about compromise.

You will get stomped on unless you beat the living shit out of them first.

Being nice is no use; be a douche instead.

Laugh.

Die alone.

Repeat if necessary.

Tears of joy, tears worn proudly

Even when it's mostly a fuck-up, it's much better than I expected and I didn't use a dictionary to achieve it. I'm sorry I didn't learn all the obvious shit I was supposed to, but I promise I've learned it now! 70 points and I'm getting there.

Scents of life

Sometimes people smell so intoxicating I want nothing more than to sink into their smell so much the whole world fades. Even when such a feeling seems to consume every part of my body, I'm able to feel like throwing up at the very thought of anyone being anywhere near me.

It's rather saddening to be full of desire to tell people about their incredibly awesome traits and characteristics, but being unable to unleash all that when you know it would only cause a terrible mess, since people have the tendency to take things the wrong way and read more into a compliment than should be. I tried not to care for a long time, but now it simply doesn't seem worth it to go through all the trouble.

So all of it goes unsaid.

But maybe it's my fault for giving any of it such great importance, I should perhaps learn not to care so much about anything.

Cozy feelings of inadequacy

Thinking about what I mean with words that could mean so many things, I wonder how much I could ever understand anyone who uses the same words I do, but give them different meaning, or how much I'll ever be able to understand myself.

Nothing is more frightening than the dreadful thought of tomorrow, yet nothing more is as exciting, nothing more is worth such great expectance.

Forgetfulness may lead to destruction

Every statement has a whole world behind it and all my explaining is a sign of my lack of trust in your ability to see beyond anything I say. Maybe it's become an obsession due to my own bad vision. I don't assume people comprehend a thing when they nod yes. I don't count on there being any reliable connection between their expressions and understanding. I see broken powerlines swinging about; glimpses of light that will eventually disappear.

It's wonderful to have the skill to paint captivating sceneries and compose enchanting melodies. What happens when the ones on the receiving end discover they've been hanging the paintings upside-down and playing the records the wrong way round?

Biologies

I'm taking biology, because I'm a science freak and by science freak I mean I want to make sweet sweet love to you for looking so undeniably sexy. Oh, is that a computer and you know machinecode? Pardon me as I undress. So... you also kind of turn me on when you speak in weird languages I don't understand that well.

Self-inflicted extreme displeasure

Whenever a performance of any kind goes well, I'm very pleased. Today is one of those days that started out with a panicky stress-filled atmosphere and maybe even with a tiny bit of fear in the air, yet ended with a relaxing sensation at the front of class while I clearly knew what I was talking about and talked as if I really, truly, sincerely cared... about animal testing and the wrongs of the world in general. This all took place after this morning's gym class and ditching half of my literature class (for great justice).

When your old yet charismatic Swedish teacher fills an entire class room with his enormous ego, he somehow manages to irradiate a special kind of warmth on a cool and foggy late afternoon. The same person you've managed to have an incredibly sick, disturbing dream about earlier the same semester is still able to make you chuckle in your front row seat with jokes I'm sure someone might find offensive. Not everyone likes him, but nobody's liked by everybody, and I still admire the old chap even though my arrogance allows me to question him in the depths of my mind from time to time. Sometimes I'm sure it's merely an attitude that comes with age - you feel the need to get up and say "Hey, mister, you don't know everything, even though you act like you own the place" but you never follow through with this act, because you know he'd tell you to sit back on your ass or throw you out of class adding he damn well knows what he's talking about after over 40 years of doing his job well. He does a great job; an excellent one, in fact. He's quite possibly the only Swedish teacher to ever teach me a damned thing and he doesn't hesitate when you ask him something, he tells you the answer and you had better accept it for what it is. He's the type of person who'll put you down, but you can't hate him for it and when he states how a phrase is cute after he's instructed you on how to form it perfectly all you feel like doing is cuddling him.

Very, very, very disturbing indeed. I feel like washing both my mouth and hands now for typing that.

The silence that binds us, ties us tightly together
want to play a game that doesn't exist (to begin) with
rules that haven't been formed yet
reformed; deformed
playful thoughts forming elaborate details