View Full Version : A Rose Under a Pseudonym

April 26th, 2012, 02:56 AM
I'm posting here a lot. Sorry about that. I'm just..I don't know. Something.

I don't know what's up with me. How can I be falling if I'm on meds? I thought I was past this -- I can sit there and lie to everyone -- oh, I'm okay, I'm doing great actually, and here's why -- and they buy it, because I'm a good liar pretending to be a bad liar pretending to be a good liar. I'm not really bothered by the fact that people can't catch me in a lie, but moreso that I'm even bothering to do it again in the first place. I'm not lying to be defensive, I'm lying because --

I don't talk about things that happened, so it's like they don't exist...or, they do, but it didn't happen to me. That girl is someone I don't associate with anymore, because she was a pansy-ass lunatic. She was the one with the eating disorder, not me. She was the one who got hurt. Not me. I can talk about myself in first person because I'm only telling a story, telling a lie. I wasn't her, she just pretended to be me, and I have no idea why she couldn't pick somebody cooler, or smarter, or more talented to emulate. I'm so quick to adapt that maybe this isn't me, after all. Maybe this is the product of social conditioning and self-imposed isolation in attempt to shrug it off. I think I understand that nobody has a 'true self,' that what we see is what we get. But maybe that's just a projection because I'm desperate to be like everybody else.

Uniqueness isn't a good thing, not when you're only unique because you're totally batshit.

I keep convincing myself that if I'm prettier, if I'm smarter, if I'm more open, I'll be more self-confident and I can learn to socialice without a) feeling awkward, or b) making people feel awkward. I sweet-talk my way into and out of things so easily, but i wonder if it's because they want to get rid of me. I'm too weird.

There are still things I'll never say, because the only way I can express them is banging on the keyboard with my fists. There are a lot of things like that. You can make me scream, make me cry, make me somehow tell all my secrets, but those will stay trapped because there are no words. Just pictures and chords and anger so potent it leaves ozone-like residue in my mouth.(I don't get angry. Not anymore. There's no more room for it.)

I don't know. I've got all these thoughts buzzing around in my head and just, I don't even. The world is Uppercase and I'm sitting here in lowercase, and things just..aren't making sense.

I've always been looking out at the world through the wrong set of eyes, but it was something that I got used to, more or less. People on the other hand, people I don't understand. I wish you could think of people like numbers. There are certain traits that are common across the entire social spectrum: solve the variables with the constants. But people are not perfect like numbers. They follow their own set of rules that aren't found in any sort of book.

..And I've just spent this whole thing rambling about my retarded brain and how I can't get the world to shut off. I'm..not okay, even though I think I might be. I'm slightly terrified, but only because I'm sane enough to recognize the feeling and know what I've done in the past. It's the same one that made me swallow pills like candy, and while I don't think I'll do that, I don't know.

Irrationally being irrational about stupid irrational things. Its times like these that I wish I truly couldn't feel. Emotions are stupid and illogical and if it weren't for the fact that I have them, I would denounce them as simple illisions. Too bad I can't do that either.

Shut up, Lost. I think you've ranted enough.