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This diary entry is written by ‹•Perfect Love Kills All Fear•›. ( View all entries )
 
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My thoughts in a matter of minutes...Category: Life/love/I want you to read...
Friday, 18 June 2010
03:31:41 AM (GMT)
Nonstop. Mind. Mind goes nonstop. 

Treasure. Rock. 

No scripts. Our lives are unscripted. My life is not a script. So why can't I change
what I say? It's not all written down. It's not all planned out.. Yet I can't change
it. Even though at first there's no control. Only thought. We are allowed to go back
and think differently. Why can't we change what we say? Why is it so permanent? 
Time. Wasted time. time. time. 

Balance? Wht balance? Where's the balance I once had? The balance. 

When Everything is hazy and foggy. Follow the leader-to hell with the leader. 
The movies. The story. How about reality? 

"Have a seat." I wanted him to say that. "Have a seat." 
I like predicting the predictable. 

A sudden case of optimism could keep me alive. You really never know how silent it is
until you hear noise. 

Me. All I hear all the time is all that I think. But don't talk to me. Don't speak.
Please I need to think. 
If you speak you'll only change my mind. Because I'm a great listener. But I NEED to
think. It's not time for me to put what I hear from you into my thoughts until I can
Organize what I think alone. 

I dream in color but my world is stained with black and white. Isn't that something?
I wouldn't know. 

Sometimes I wish plagerism wasn't illegal since you have a tendancy to write down all
the thoughts I think. Or maybe its too bad that thought can't be considered
plagerism. 


I'm not making this up, this is real. 

I do all this because I want you to see. Cry. Because I'm in pain. 
Why don't you see this? 

I think you're afraid of what everyone will think. If it were only us, would you
care? 

You're not looking, feeling. I'm dying. 




A black piece of paper says more than you can imagine. 
It says that I can't put into words what I think and feel. 

Accepting isn't acceptance. What does that even mean? 
You can be a creator but you're not a creation. I hate you for what you don't see and
you don't see a lot. 

But I love you for loving me. 

"Maybe in living, she was actually dying." Maybe I am. 

Sometimes I look at the world as a cynic. 





I hope you'll see this and that it will make you think. And then maybe you'll know--

Know that I'm ready fro this, we are. 

But you think I'll ruin your life, don't you? I'm not good enough even if you say I
am. 


Spinning. Spinny. Spin. Spin. Turn. 



Failure at best. 
You're sorry now, aren't you? ok. 

Farewell. Because it was you who let this image die. 

And I don't have a life like her, or her, or her. Only like me. 


Be in it. Be what I need. Just consider what I ask-- what I need. 







Nonsense. Just Stop.


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