ship metaphor

slowly becoming a new ; growing old
neither of us knowing
[who i am]

what of the pieces that go missing'
or
are replaced by ones with different functions

Logbook entry 120922

After 21 years of not wearing pjs, I have anchored in a perpetual state of pajamaland.

Friendship

I've spent a great deal of time not at all understanding it. I don't know how much of it was fear of commitment to my immediate surroundings and all sorts of nightmare-like scenarios in my head slowing me down. I'm still not too confident in saying I have fully grasped even the few characters that I have cast to play the roles of my friends on this great stage of life, but I don't feel as lost anymore. I have at least learned to distinguish some of the patterns and even if I don't really understand the rules behind them completely, it helps in playing my part some of the time. Sometimes I forget my lines though.

The dreadful realization I have made looking at the bigger picture is that these people shape my existence to a greater extent than I would ever have imagined. I'd like to say it's kind of nice too, but I can't. Not right now anyway. I'm okay with it for the most part though. I just need to figure out how to deal with it or maybe what I need to figure out is that there's nothing to deal with in the first place. I'd be okay with that really.

I'm usually pretty okay with how things are.

But really, I don't know how to deal with all the countless variables and the potential butterfly effect of a retarded joke snowballing my life out of control. Especially when I'm way too lazy at clearing up obvious misconceptions and thrive on a bit of chaos. I do have one wish. Please don't ruin my life. I'd like to think that is a reasonable thing to ask and I am asking nicely.

Thank you for your co-operation.

omnia mea mecum porto

I can't live in this castle
The halls are hollow
your whispers echo
Everything's so big,
won't fit in a pocket
not even your hands

A room is enough
The walls like arms
holding on tight
won't let go
of your hands


won't fit in a pocket
not even your hands

People

All the broken machinery gathered over time
well if you cannot fix it

there's always tomorrow
room for another robotic surgery

parts of your personality amputated
thank you for your donations

consequences will never be the same;
neither will you

distractions, the likes of local anesthesia, so
you won't have to worry;

miss the spare parts that
have been collected

the waste land that is you
my precious R2-D2


maybe upgrade your software tomorrow

Lies

Remember that time you said that thing about that other thing, and I still think about it?

Me neither. I can't remember.

Something's changed

Is this boredom?

Wow,

My room has a floor again. I'm so sick of owning all this useless shit.