I haven't even been here twenty four hours yet, and I've written 1.5 songs.

I sense a long year in my future.



My head is an empty room.
My heart is an empty tomb.
Those who enter either are doomed
To reside where all things cannot bloom.
They seed in unfertile soil,
With rocks to block their path.
The feed on water that boils,
Nothing is able to last.

My head is empty.
My heart is empty,
My body is empty too.
My veins have dried,
My lungs have tried to pull this dead weight though.
They seek air, oxygen,
But this body is far too weak.
They need air, oxygen
Instead I’ll go to sleep.

How am I to survive when I don’t know how to move?
Why should I try to survive?
There’s nothing left to lose.



Oh.. by the way, I miss you.
 

I wrote a few more paragraphs for my book. It might end up just being a short story because I don't know if I have enough things to write about to make it long enough for a book. I also put in a line from and Oasis song, but thats just because I was thinking about it at the time, and decided if I were to make that paragraph longer it would have something to do with the song. It is not a part of the text. That being said.. I feel like shit, and I'm going to sleep.

    He had this ability to loose himself in his imagination for hours. He could be present in a room full of people, but exist solely in his own head. All sounds and conversations would drop away at his biding and color would drip in to fill the void. Occasionally there would be a mix of black and reds, but more often than not there would be color so eloquent and magnificent that words were not enough to explain its beauty. It had a hold on him; his imagination, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s just how he was, and that’s how he wanted to be, able to remove himself completely from reality and exist in the rainbows.
   
    Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. Was it healthy for him to leave reality the way he did?  It’s hard to say. He needed his imagination to help him cope, so let him have it. Get off his back would you? He doesn’t need you to judge him. He felt judged by everyone though, so what’s one more person.

“Slip inside the eye of your mind, don’t you know you might find, a better place to play”

    He didn’t understand feelings. He didn’t understand how they worked or hoe to express them. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t control them and why he had to feel many of them. He just knew that he didn’t understand what they were all about. It’s not that he was stupid he was actually very intelligent. Its just feelings confused him, just the same as they do many people. He hated how they could change so easily. He hated how his emotions could get the best of him at times when he didn’t want them too. But most of all he hated that he couldn’t control them. Even if he focused all his energy, there where times when he couldn’t stop himself from getting angry. Even if he tried with all his might there were times when he couldn’t help but just break down and cry. There were always times when his emotions took control.
He didn’t like to show his feelings to people. In most cases it was for their benefit, but in some cases it was for his own. He wasn’t the type to show someone they made him sad to prevent them feeing bad in return. He wasn’t the type to show someone how he truly felt for fear of them knowing what went on in his head.

    In reality he was a mystery, and that’s exactly how he wanted to be. He kept a journal, filled it randomly. The pages were full of thoughts, but thoughts that could only make sense to him. He altered names giving no one and no thing a distinct name to keep them unrecognizable to anyone else. The penmanship was sloppy, but the grammar never poor. Quite simply, it was intended that no one else would understand.  They were his thoughts, his experiences, his dreams, his life; no one else’s.

 

Life is boring tonight.
I tried to do homework, but that fell through.
I want to sit on a beach and play my guitar all night long.
 

http://www.sendspace.com/file/67sd6n

It's just a rough demo. I missed a section of the lyrics, but I don't feel like redoing it. You get the idea though.
When I do a final recording it will sound better. better vocals, percussion, better guitar.
 

I finished a song today. It's depressing as fuck. Maybe I'll upload a link to it when I'm finished recording it tomorrow.

I would wrap my arms tight around you,
But I know it’s not the embrace you want.
I’D hold you tight against me
If it would make your pain be gone.

I observe your actions;
I see the differences in your moods.
He just takes what he can get.
He doesn’t even know you.
He’s got his own agenda;
He’s fulfilling his own needs.
So what if he hurts you?
It’s your heart that’ll bleed.
Who cares who feels worse
When he’s feeling so much better?
He says he cares for her.
Well then why were you together?
Now he’s gone away.
He doesn’t care enough to call.
He stole your heart that day.
Only he let it fall…  (repeat)

I would wrap my arms tight around you,
But I know it’s not the embrace you want.
I’D hold you tight against me
If it would make your pain be gone.
I observe your actions;
I see the differences in your moods.
He just takes what he can get.
He doesn’t love you like I do.
No he doesn’t love you like I do.

 

I took a trip to subway today. Didn't feel like eating in the cafeteria. Too many people.
on my way back to the dorm I saw this kid. A boy, probably around 11 I guess. He ran past me and down the street. His pants were wet. It looked like he had peed in them. I watched him 'cause he was running the same way I was skateboarding. He keep checking over his shoulder at something. I assume looking out for somebody. Then he jumped behind a bush and hid for a couple minutes. Next thing I knew he jumped back out and ran further, still checking over his shoulder. I was going to ask him if he was ok, but he turned at a gate and ran into the house. I heard him yelling "mom" when he got inside, but that was all.
I'm sure he was running from bullies, it's the only think that makes sense. Poor kid. People sure are awesome!
 

Oh yeah, and after I saw that I saw to deer on someones front lawn. I thought they were fake a first. A baby and a momma. I starred at the for a while. then went around the corner. The baby followed me on the lawn. I was like.. 10 feet away from him probably And I just starred at him. The momma didn't seem to care at all. I wanted to look at them forever.

Chris says I should update. I think a few of my entries start with this.
The only problem is I don'tfeel like saying anything now.
The last few paragraphes of the thing to follow is what I've been working on today.
I hear a cello playing chords that are echoing around my skull.


He hated the way the cover of a new book would remain slightly open after having read a few pages and put it down. He wasn’t entirely sure why he despised the way the book looked now. It used to be so new, so crisp; so perfect. Now it was open with its eloquent pages exposed to the horrors of the world. The solid cover was no longer able to protect them in the way it once had. Their innocence now in jeopardy, all he could do was sit and stare, unable to get over how much he hated the sight before him.
    What was he to do now? Place an object on the book in an effort to keep it closed?  He thought about this, but it just didn’t seem to work. Another object intervening too aid the covers in what they were meant to do in the first place wasn’t the answer. Why had they lost their strength-why weren’t they able to fulfill their meaning anymore? Their objective was to protect the pages. Their mere purpose was to keep them safe, keep them innocent. Now innocence was slipping away. Because with every fraction of a second they remained open more infections the former trees received. 
    The trees that were once covered in a shield of amour impenetrable by the demons, other than those of an axe, were now left unprotected, vulnerable to the ways of the world. They were accessible to impurities for the second time now.
    This time it was his fault. If not for his curiosity to discover what secrets were possessed by the shields, they would be safe. Although, he can be related to the fall of the lumber also. Indirectly he can be to blame. The trees were cut for paper, the paper to make a book, the book to be bought and read by consumers. That’s where he comes in. The consumer: The source of horror in the world of the tall and mighty greens. He hated himself for it. He hated that he was the one to lower the drawbridge for nefariousness.
    At the same time he hated the author for luring him in. It was the author that made him inquisitive. Could it be that the author was on the side of evil? An author would enjoy the fall of the lumber, for it produces that which he needs to survive off his gift. The authors suck the life away from the evergreens. They then rejuvenate them solely for their own benefit. However they are kind enough to provide them some protection. Too bad it doesn’t last. Once the first sentence has been read the evergreens are no longer protected. He hated authors.
    Not just authors. He didn’t care for people in general, as horrible as that may sound. But that’s how he was, and rest assured he had his reasons. His solitude kept him company, and the thoughts in his head made up his conversations. He could carry an in-depth conversation with his conscience the way you would with another human being. So why would he need other people?  He wouldn’t (Nor did they need him.). People, to him; were meant to be observed and not interacted with. They served as his amusement, and that was all. He could watch them for hours from his perch in the corner of their lives, undetectable by their radar.
    In truth, people amazed him at times. But not in the same sense as being amazed by seeing you’re favorite band live, or any other form of favorable amazement. They amazed him in a somewhat unexplainable yet negative way.  He didn’t understand the way they acted, how they could change themselves depending on who surrounded them. He often compared people with chameleons. Their conformity drew his attention. Their predictable lost it. Yet he would watch. Perhaps hoping that a human worth associating himself with would come along, but that has yet to happen.
    He didn’t consider himself to be above everyone else which is how it may seem. He knew he wasn’t. If anything he thought of himself as inferior. His self-confidence was little to be spoken of, almost non-existent. He knew he wasn’t superior. He just didn’t want to associate himself with other people. It was most likely out of fear of rejection, but he would oppose that statement as soon as it was spoken about him. He enjoyed his space and that was that.  It needn’t been delved into further.

Bye