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.