Words. They do a lot. But they don't do the job. Here's the job.
July.
is a month. My favorite month. The month where everything sort of comes together, in the middle of everything. It's basically the middle of the year, the middle of summer vacation, and it feels like I'm in the middle of some sort of fucking adventure, every July since 2007. Which, I know, has only been two and a half.. but I keep counting, since I don't know how many July's I will live through. This could be my last one. Or your last one. Somewhere out there, it's someone's last day, in the last July they'd ever experience.
I treasure July. The weather is my favorite. The sunsets are my favorite. The lack of activity seems to subside in the middle of summer. Things just go into a chaotic state for a bit and that's all I need sometimes. Weather gets me down. During the winter is when things get real bad for me, and it seems like my relationship with everything in the world is all downhill. But in July, things don't really get to me as much. You can't make me too terribly unhappy. It's like when you wake up on a Saturday with no plans and just say to yourself that today is going to be a good day. You're just dangling in the middle of a really really precious sequence of time. It never ends. No matter what, you'll always expect your favorite day of the week to come around, or your favorite time of day, or your favorite month of the year. It doesn't abandon you. Unlike everything else.
Parentals.
I feel absolutely horrible for children of controlling parents. Parents who call their kids losers because they don't have a million and one friends, and send their children away for trying to have a childhood. Kids who don't experience won't learn. I fucking hate closed-minded people. Especially when they are trying to raise a child. It's their job to raise the child, not to arrange the entire process that their life relies on. Gosdfihsofdiuh. I honestly just really wish that some fucking crazy trance fell upon every single human being and all at the same time, they just realized a deeper meaning to everything, inside their head, rather than looking to a fucking person in the sky. The person in the sky isn't going to shape you into the person you'll become. The person in your head and in your heart will.
RAAAWR.
Hey, blogger. I've realized a lot recently. Actually, I'm always realizing a lot. This is a gift.
I've realized that my stretching the truth has reached an amazingly pathetic limit, almost as if it is limitless. I realize now that, sometimes, it just comes naturally. I don't even have to think about lying. It's the truth in my head. It's the way I'd like to think things were to happen. You know? I feel like that is probably the worst habit one could ever have, and the fact that I have it disgusts me so terribly bad. And the pride that I've taken in myself for actually accomplishing, just made me feel shittier when I thought about it. I'd like to not believe in pride. I'd like to not believe in anything. I'd like to stop having realizations and figuring out deeper meanings because the ability to do this is so overwhelming. I couldn't put these things into words, and if I could, I couldn't tell anyone because they would literally think I am crazy. I told my mom I was magical when I was high. I feel as though I've realized that everything is a miracle. And the only way anyone will ever truly aquire knowledge is by embracing everything as a miracle, rather than destroying it to figure out what makes it such a miracle. Anything beautiful that we have been given, or given the ability to create, shouldn't be disturbed.
Life shouldn't be disturbed.
So stop disturbing it. It's your fault. But mostly, it's my fault.
July.
is a month. My favorite month. The month where everything sort of comes together, in the middle of everything. It's basically the middle of the year, the middle of summer vacation, and it feels like I'm in the middle of some sort of fucking adventure, every July since 2007. Which, I know, has only been two and a half.. but I keep counting, since I don't know how many July's I will live through. This could be my last one. Or your last one. Somewhere out there, it's someone's last day, in the last July they'd ever experience.
I treasure July. The weather is my favorite. The sunsets are my favorite. The lack of activity seems to subside in the middle of summer. Things just go into a chaotic state for a bit and that's all I need sometimes. Weather gets me down. During the winter is when things get real bad for me, and it seems like my relationship with everything in the world is all downhill. But in July, things don't really get to me as much. You can't make me too terribly unhappy. It's like when you wake up on a Saturday with no plans and just say to yourself that today is going to be a good day. You're just dangling in the middle of a really really precious sequence of time. It never ends. No matter what, you'll always expect your favorite day of the week to come around, or your favorite time of day, or your favorite month of the year. It doesn't abandon you. Unlike everything else.
Parentals.
I feel absolutely horrible for children of controlling parents. Parents who call their kids losers because they don't have a million and one friends, and send their children away for trying to have a childhood. Kids who don't experience won't learn. I fucking hate closed-minded people. Especially when they are trying to raise a child. It's their job to raise the child, not to arrange the entire process that their life relies on. Gosdfihsofdiuh. I honestly just really wish that some fucking crazy trance fell upon every single human being and all at the same time, they just realized a deeper meaning to everything, inside their head, rather than looking to a fucking person in the sky. The person in the sky isn't going to shape you into the person you'll become. The person in your head and in your heart will.
RAAAWR.
Hey, blogger. I've realized a lot recently. Actually, I'm always realizing a lot. This is a gift.
I've realized that my stretching the truth has reached an amazingly pathetic limit, almost as if it is limitless. I realize now that, sometimes, it just comes naturally. I don't even have to think about lying. It's the truth in my head. It's the way I'd like to think things were to happen. You know? I feel like that is probably the worst habit one could ever have, and the fact that I have it disgusts me so terribly bad. And the pride that I've taken in myself for actually accomplishing, just made me feel shittier when I thought about it. I'd like to not believe in pride. I'd like to not believe in anything. I'd like to stop having realizations and figuring out deeper meanings because the ability to do this is so overwhelming. I couldn't put these things into words, and if I could, I couldn't tell anyone because they would literally think I am crazy. I told my mom I was magical when I was high. I feel as though I've realized that everything is a miracle. And the only way anyone will ever truly aquire knowledge is by embracing everything as a miracle, rather than destroying it to figure out what makes it such a miracle. Anything beautiful that we have been given, or given the ability to create, shouldn't be disturbed.
Life shouldn't be disturbed.
So stop disturbing it. It's your fault. But mostly, it's my fault.
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