I am a little angry right now. I am also a little intoxicated. You know, I think there was a time in my life where I could actually look at what I was doing and be happy. I think I am happy now. But for many reasons I am not completely sure. And for some of the same reasons I understand why I am. I just don't understand why today is as it is. If I could change today I wouldn't. Maybe that is my overall problem. That I too often except... accept... either one; what happens to me. Do I really have control over my life? Yeah, I do. But is that a good thing? Some may say yes... many others might say no. or. know. The problem with me I guess... is that I can't really control what happens in my life. and so I am stuck between the struggle of what happens, what I create, and who I decide to help. But to be quite honest if I really look at myself I realize that I am probably just being taken advantage of. And there was a time in which I thought I could decipher who or what was taking advantage of me. And although most of the time I let it happen, there were many times in which I took action and prevented this. But I guess now, it just doesn't matter. Because apparently I can no longer tell who is really taking advantage of me and who is not. Oh well. I guess someday I will learn. Or maybe I will never learn and I will always be taken advantage of. And to those who progress at my dispense, more power to you, for my ignorance. I once wrote poetry. I can not even begin to explain what coarses through my veins at this moment. Maybe a blood filled with high cholesterol. If I spelled that correctly please give me an award. If not, hahaha! Maybe the reason I cannot completely convey what coarses through my veins is because I am a bad person. And I would rather not come to terms with the fact that I am probably and completely that piece of shit that I look at everyday and wonder why they do the things they do. Am I that blind that I cannot even see that I am repeating the same steps they are. Why do I really write these things? Is it because someday I will come back and read my own thoughts. Nah. I don't often read my old entries. But even so if I ever did I would just think that I was a whacko. Because really I know what I am trying to say now... but I don't really and actually convey it into something that I might understand later. Or that anyone would truly understand. So.... if you have any clue what I am talking about, please let me in on the secret. Why am I so jealous?
of what I am Jealous of?
When I try really hard I think I can conjure up enough words to scratch the surface of this pain. A reverberance of sound,
echoes
and ripples through my eyes.
I am not pretending,
to peer through
my own mind.
White blinding light
permeating before me.
This beam motivates my fingertips,
and guides my mislead mind
into lyrics
and words I have yet to define.
Why does each letter
fall into places
I cannot determine
before I can clench
even a syllable.
A space lies between
each opportunist and their goal.
As I am solemnly
forced to succumb to,
my own arrogance,
my own salt filled tears
and lay amongst
many who have lost
a passionate life,
a warmth flowing within-
veins, seeking,
a color other than,
black, blue, and red. | 
