Why helloo

Howdy dowdy,
Yes, yes life is good, Had a little and I feel like blogging randomly. I think though this blogging shall be about dreams, because they're always interesting. SO, I have weird and random dreams all the time, really, I often tell people about my weird dream, however, I don't know why I do that but I do. Also, I dream about things that could happen but, in affect don't because, well I don't really know why. But really, it makes you think. Why do dreams come true every so often? Why can we dream the future? Are dreams really that metaphoric? So many questions, and none without a real answer. Does it all have to do with perception? It makes you think, doesn't it? I mean, if all our dreams were relative to everyday life, warnings, if you may, and we knew that, would we be more attentive to our dreams? hmm...such mysteries riddle our lives don't they

This ones actually the only one I like

The feeling is always the same. You fall, you're weightless, as light as a feather as they say, nothing to harm you, only yourself. Yet at the same time you cannot help but feel completely useless. You always have the visions of those you love, those you would kill for, those you would die for, being tortured beyond help, beyond all remedy. All the time you feel sad, pressured by an unnerving sadness, a sadness you fear you will never overcome. Nearly the end, you constantly tell yourself, nearly time to end this horrible pain, this sorrow, this overwhelming sense of depression. You feel the impact, you believe yourself to be dead but you only find yourself in the selfsame room you drifted away from only moments before. Your pillow is wet from sweat and tears, it reeks of anguish, of the immense troubles that you have sewn and cried into it. You touch your mouth, blood streams from it, your tongue numb from biting it so hard. You now feel so alone, so forsaken, left in the dark. You want to cry out but you can't. You won't allow yourself. You can't admit your weakness, it takes too much for you to do that, too depressing, like admitting defeat in the eyes of those who knew all along they were winning. Your pride cannot take it. So, instead, you keep quiet, hold your knees close to you and rock gently, letting the tears flow unattended, uninterrupted down you face. Your mind is trapping you, not letting you move on, keeping you in the darkness, never letting you see light. Your friends all support you, they try to help you, but you know they’ll never understand the hurt, the pain you’re going through, they’ll never experience it ever. You know this, you tell them, they say they believe you but you can see, intuitively you know they don’t understand, they think it’s just the dreams but it’s more than that oh so much more. You live your life. To everyone you seem so happy, so overenthusiastic; some even consider you to be very charismatic. You play along, pretending to be something you know you’re not, pretending to be better then you actually are. All the time it’s games, all the time it’s acting, like making an alias for yourself, living a false life to protect those around you from the demon growing inside you. You are your own enemy, you cannot stand yourself, and at the same time you can’t understand why people stand you. Your double life is so hard to keep, you’re dying to break free from the prison you trap yourself in, dying to tell everyone that something is wrong, that you need help. You know you can’t do it though, no matter how hard you try. It frustrates you; you think you’ve found the key only to find that it was an illusion, a hallucination that dissipates when you try to grab it. You cannot explain to yourself how you got this way. You know it’s not normal, you know you’re not normal you enjoy and hate this. You are full of contradictions; you believe one thing yet you say another. Your there to be heard and yet you do not want to be heard. You confuse yourself, always lost in thought. You confuse others with your thoughts, leading them into a whirlwind of uncertainty. Some are attracted by this, some are not, but you care not, in fact in some ways you’d rather isolate yourself. Isolation seems to be the only solution, that way you can suffer your insanity without hurting anyone, without feeling immeasurable pain for those that you cannot help but love. Everyday you suffer and everyday your cover slips. You are losing the ability to hide your true thoughts in, to hold your true beliefs in, to hide yourself from the harsh and conflicting world. You know this is good, but you also know that you cannot bear it if you are exposed, that you are an open book. This is definitely something you cannot handle, something that you know will only damage you more until you breakdown, until it seems that death is the only solution, and then you realise, that is your solution. Ever so slowly you are being alienated. People are starting to see you are not what thy thought you were. You are being deserted. Those who you thought were your friends are betraying you. They think you do not know but you do. They deceive you, threaten you, insult you. You take each blow; they are hurting you, destroying you. You are becoming weak. They have found your weakness and bit-by-bit they are tearing you apart. Your pain is so intense and deep, too deep; the knife is so far it cannot be pulled out. Your sorrow is increasing, your sense of anguish pulling at your mind, your consciousness. You fear you will nver feel happiness again, you will never feel elation in spirit, you will never be free. You struggle onwards. You cannot hide anymore.Your pain is sinking; your surface cannot protect you anymore. Everyone can see how you're suffering, they can see you're not coping, but they do nothing. They care for you no more. You are falling, falling into darkness. You allow yourself to be swallowed up into the realms of extreme sorrow and depression. Death has engulfed you, smothering you in her arms. A dark shroud follows you. You cannot hold up anymore. It has become too much, it's falling down around you. You believe it is time. You walk to a forest in the dark. You find a grove. A rock is in the centre of a border of tall, dark, trees. Animals' eyes are gleaming in the mystical moonlight. Perfect, you think to yourself, a perfect night for what you are about to do. Death is calling you, screaming at you, it's making the pain worse. You fall to your knees; tears are falling fast down your cheeks, it is unavoidable, you do not even attempt to wipe them away. You slip the silver atheme from your pocket. It is beautiful, the last thing of beauty you'll see. You slit your wrists, relief floods you as fresh blood seeps silently through the wounds. you slash at your wrists, your arms more and more. it is delighting, so blissful. You hope it is enough. Blood covers the rock, blood glowing maliciously on the knife. You know what you must do. You thrust the knife through your chest. You scream, you scream for all the times you've wept, you scream for all the pain, the insults, the betrayal. You scream until you feel no more, the white-hot pain is leaving. is this death? You ask yourself; I am dying. Sweet death, you whisper, I commend my soul to you, I am not worthy to live...

Yeeash...

You are seeking peace. It’s been so long, too long. You haven’t been at rest for as long as you left your great, graceful and happy childhood years. Things were so much easier then. You were at ease, no responsibility, no vulnerability only pure and sacred innocence. You walk the deserted beach. It is dusk and the sand is still warm. It swirls around your feet, tickling them. The waves are lapping the shore. The water is very calm, the soft sound of moving water being the only sound to accompany you. The sky is a darkening red… you are thinking… it reminds you of something but you cannot remember what. No clouds blemish the sky only the deepening, glowing red that now tortures your memory. Why can you not remember? It seems so important but it also seems pointless. What is it? What is it? Your mind is taunted by this thought; you try to forget about this ludicrous circulation of thought. You close your eyes and slowly breathe in the air, the smell of salt water lingers you can feel the gentle breeze plays with your hair. Brushing it from your face. You breathe out ever so slowly, slower than ever before. You release all the things that are weighing you down, all the pain. You will yourself into peace. You desire so greatly that peace of mind. Seeking but never finding. That thought still persists, penetrating and interrupting your process of peace. It is obstructing your power to move on. It is holding you back. What significance does it have? You can’t remember, it is there but you cannot bring it to terms, your mind is forcing you to be toyed with. A flash of blood is shown, you try to see further but you are restricted. You can see someone’s face, it is blurry, impossible to be able to tell the identity, it is howling, screaming. Your head is pounding; the face is covered in blood, blood that you forcefully drew from them. It is their blood you concentrate harder. You see your hands are covered in blood also. You can tell its not yours, you know it’s the other person’s. Their eyes are glazing over, a white film covering them; this person is entering into the first stages of rigor mortis. You breathe heavily and slip onto the sand below. The tide is coming in, closer and closer and closer, so close, so close. You cannot help but shake with horror. What have you done? You cannot dare to imagine. You can’t shake off this feeling; it is indescribable. You feel the cool water wrapping itself around you. Enfolding you into its coolness, it flows easily. The water level is rising higher and higher. The sand around you moving with the water, until you are in your own trench. Tears are flicking down your cheeks. You feel them flowing down the smoothness of your skin. You can’t believe it, you did this, you can’t stand living with yourself, as yourself. You are so unbelievable, what had possessed you to do such a terrible, horrible thing? You try to shut down, isolate yourself, forget everything. You are trying so hard, concentrating every part of you, drawing all your will together to fight the nagging torment. It won't let go. It is gripping every effort and ripping it apart into shreds. You can feel your mind collapsing, this experience too much for it to handle.

Howdy dowdy,I'm really bored. Don't you just hate it when you don't get any sleep! (Seriously, I only got like an hour max....damn it). So I'm all shaky today..and I feel like writing some sad depressing poem, only because I'm particularly bored at this point in time. So here goes....
Her memories, a haunting of her past,
The future dawns, reproachful,
Eating away at her from the inside,
She screams silently into the night air.
Yet, no one cares, no one really did.
All too selfish to worry about her.
The cuts in her wrists,
Her bloodstained tears,
All meaningless in the eyes of others
Just as she is.

A new day comes, a new pain revealed.
She is left alone, on the ground.
The cool, icy air wrapping around her,
Leaving her pale in its arms.
The ice is stained, scarlet red,
Revealing her sadness and sorrow.
But, no one cares, no one really did.
All too selfish to worry about her.
The cuts in her wrists,
Her bloodstained tears,
All meaningless in the eyes of others
Just as she is.

As her life fades away, her eyes grow dim
She realises all the falsehood and lies.
Her death is a symbol for no one to see.
As she's just a number, another dead teen.
She knows too late no one will understand,
She knows they'll all be sad.
Only for a moment, then they will forget
Her secret still left unsaid,
As, no one cares, no one really did.
All too selfish to worry about her.
The cuts in her wrists,
Her bloodstained tears,
All meaningless in the eyes of others
Just as she is.

Hello Peopleness

Wow, it's like I'm a bloggaholic. I have several hehe, so I think I may just copy many and send them across..However I may just tell you that I'm crazy insane and that I make no sense whatsoever. So if you get completely lost in my crazy ramblings then I completely understand afterall 'tis I, and I know all.. heheh anyway, Im rather annoyed at the moment. this may be because of people carelessly throwing there words around, but then again, word mean nothing don't they? Only the emotion and reaction matters doesn't it? Words are just things we manipulate to play towards our liking so why do they affect us so? Why is verbal communication so heart breaking? Why is it that when you're in particular moods words affect you so differently? Gah see meaningless ramble, and I'm lost in deep thought which doesn't help, anywho, I'll transfer all my other blogs here :P
Heh all will be revealed