What does it mean to find meaning? Is the question in the answer or the answer in the question? Is there any substance to that, the redundancy, or is paradox pointless? I'm not sure and I don't think i ever will be I just responded to someone's journal for the first time and it felt like the right thing to do I love looking on here and seeing someone has commented on my work And on some level, I think that's all anyone really wants to be recognized and acknowledged, like yes, you do exist I see your art and i just wanted to let you know i'm listening you feel...important valued and to know i can touch someone else both by creating and by listening is powerful from now on, i'm always going to try to comment hopefully people will do the same for me? Lately, I've been spending alot of time observing there's this website stumbleupon.com that just directs you to random sites about everything now, while i would never sit down and google "cool art" sometimes the fact that its in front of me is enought to appreciate it it's like eating things just because they're on your plate i don't know, you might discover something worthwhile again with that meaning i still can't quite define it, but sometimes it just hits me i'll be reading, or listening, and then BAM! i just have a sense that whatever i'm doing is important I get that feeling when I write sometimes like maybe this is what i'm supposed to be doing? i've heard it said many times that everybody needs something to hold onto, but i don't think it's quite that simple I think everyone needs a purpose, some sort of philosiphy or atleast i do and because in all honesty i am just a mix of every experience i've encountered, my own personal mantra is kind of the same way I think that's why i've become so obsessed with dissecting I hate just the surface, the hi how are you, fine it's never okay to be not okay we need that white lie to keep the balance In my opinion, I think we have two real choices One is we can to some extent just go through the motions, convince ourselves that the things that make us miserable are merely mandatory obstacles to happiness, things we just have to get through, because that's just the way it is and we have to accept it. But the other option is we can curl up in a ball and just refuse to get out of bed because so much about this world is so blatently wrong and cruel, like destruction and polite conversation, and everyone is ants, and no one really caring, and the list goes on forever, but being conscoius of that sadness all the time to the point you can't fake it for long enough to do anything else? well that's how you wind up in a mental hospital "I know i'm not crazy, i've just lost my will" does everyone have those moments? i wish i could live for a day, a second, inside someone elses head just so i'd know See, the fact that the lyric even exist though does offer some comfort because even if it isn't everyone, atleast I Know it is someone else besides me

its all been said before every line every meaning every twist, interpretation pages and pages of reduncy laid out in front of me slipping fast down the screen and who the hell am i to think that my little bit, my repitition could contribute anything at all this is why i have run out of words it's all just clutter litter on the pavement for all the time wasters and dreamers people like me, who binge on words because they need an escape an outlet, a mindless activity, a semblance of meaning really, this is nothing really, i am just another person one out of billions, mediocre nothing special we don't NEED another person i am just so pointless it's killing me I feel like you are over my shoulder every word, which is also why i haven't been writing i don't want your eyes. don't want your opinions i shouldn't haven given you such easy acess i shouldn't have gotten this involved but yet, there you are all those miles away promising forever and i nod my head, say the right words but in my heart i'm almost sure it's too long i'm too tired to write well tonight or too something just an excuse but i do suppose it's better than blank pages

I think something's wrong with my eyes I could swear i slept last night, could swear atleast 7 hours were spent in my bed but my eyes just won't believe me they still feel heavy i still feel like sleeping even though i have the whole world layed out ahead of me i hate my body i miss the muscle, miss the flexibility my lungs are too filledwith smoketo run well my heart is too filled with pressure to getout of this house so lazy, so tired, so unmotivated are you scared yet? because it's just starting to set in for me

When an alarm wakes you up at 5 in the morning, you don’t really have time to come back to your skin. You are still part cover, part dreams. So your legs feel fake stumbling across the room. And you just have to sit for a second in the corner after you turn off the sound. Waking up this early feels like a car crash. It’s like someone screaming, when you are dazed and confused, “here is your life, now go fucking live in it”. And for the few seconds of walking back across the room, finding the light switch, all that responsibility seems entirely possible. Physically getting up is the hardest part. When your brain is still too black to register the carpeted floor, you forget how to feel angry. You just accept everything as unchangeable. It doesn’t matter how heavy your eyes feel. Doesn’t matter that you feel alone. Wakefulness is here at the brim of your consciousness. And turning around and falling back in now just seems like a waste. Five hours of sleep is not enough for a teenage girl, but no one will ever tell you why. No matter how many websites you Google, no matter how many times your mother sends you to bed, you will never get a specific consequence. Sleep is good. Sleep is important. But that’s all it ever is. And without a threat, without, “you will die” or “your eyes will fall out”, the word enough is meaningless.

I am trying so hard to write a song filled with meaning but every word combination has been used before love like sunsets fighting the truth all stolen images, copies of a copy my mind isn't right right now only five hours last night i have a physics test to study for and a room to clean the ever growing to-do list scrolling through my head sometimes i consider just closing my eyes and hoping the tasks will all disappear but come morning the list only seems longer i miss virginia because i miss him there was no perfection in that sunshine weather only love and sex and tears and laughter the little gifts of everyday that make me feel deserving of happiness i don't know what i will do without him in his room on the last night i started crying, hideous tears mascara black over burning red cheeks because i realized just how much i need him a simple mistake, a careless half descision, a grabbed wrist and a heart break did you know it shoots through your left arm, when you are simply melting in piece? these little tingles, like when your feet fall asleep, filling the gaps between muscle and bone that's where all the tears you have no more energy for hide up inside your shoulder blade today in class, the aimless droning i copied down something but i'm not sure it was notes maybe lyrics with oictures, maybe brilliant unwravelings i decided not to read it over acting class is a presentation of bullshit and errors in language i wrote that down too, all the incorrect and idiomatic expressions she used "let's get the giggles out" "that was lovely" "Can I ask you to crawl on your knees behind the walker and scream your lines like you're desperate to be heard?" giggles are not tangible lovely does not describe pain and you can ask all you want but i may not concede the way everyone is so careless bothers me language, poetry is how i understand the world no one says what they mean anymore expression has made us liars i wonder how long it will be before i start to do it too?

always so tired love, he says when i go to bed again i know i know i'm so so sorry but i just son't have time to be super girl i guess your city is burning tonight because i just don't have enoughe nergy to fix it i live so much inside my head imaginary hallucinations invisible written words i want to be an angel with a paper mind who only smiles i want to still see the world as my oyster i have a superiority complex because i think i am smarter than everyone adults who speak at me in that condescending pitying tone i become a big blank i am an expert at staring i read fight club, so now my mind is all fucked up destroy to create bruises and blood nothing terrible has ever happened to me i am alone in an amplified paradise see, this is why i don't write more often i have no idea what i'm even talking about

I hate this house my heart hurts so much walking on eggshells treading in water there's no safe place to stand no matter how much i give, it's never enough it's all about grades and report cards i only exist on paper, an assortment of letters and numbers the wrong ones and i am worhtless the right ones and i get by for another day i think that this is why it's so hard to do homework why i don't care at all about the meaningless effort more miserable doesn't always equal more happy although you have to give to get, i do believe there is a maximum capacity it's just like alcohol 3,4, maybe five shots of that bitter taste and you feel lighter and lighter and lighter but any more than that, all you get is sick i am at my threshold for suffering there is a part of me that is almost ready to let them break me, just give into the weakness and medicine but there is another part that says i am already broken and it's really not worth a second try i believe i am stronger than words and memories because i know how to manipulate them what i write in here might not be real life it's only an interpretation, a one sided story, of the surrounding events that make me i'm not sure if the best way to define myself is by my thoughts or by my actions while inside i am a shattered mess, in school you'd never know i still laugh, make jokes, smile most of the time, even i can trick myself it's o hypocritical when i think about it because i really hate bullshit but honestly, i see only two clear choices one i can risk everything i've worked so hard for and show everyone how much i am falling apart or two i can keep up what i started years ago and just pretend that i'm ok i love matt, from the bottom of my heart, but i need myself more i can't go back to being unfeeling i can't make the schedules, write in the sleep, turn off the music all those things i do besides school make up my sanity if i give up on that, i give up any piece of me that's loveable and that kind of defeats the purpose

omg i am so freaking happy i totally just figured out how to fix my journal yay yay yay top of the world for a while i can pretend this is enough to smile living without a journal was so weird all these brilliant words and thoughts just darting across my mind only to disappear in the tips of my fingers i have said it before and i'll say it again without these words i don't exist the ache in my heart felt better today i am back to missing him on a normal still funtioning level last night was so scary, when i couldn't stop crying that's the closest i've ever felt to the edge of insanity all that pathetic desperation, the need to be promised i'm so so sorry i'm doing this to you, but you're the only one who understands i know, he says, we'll be okay why can't i stop crying? why does this hurt so bad? you're just in love, he told me this is how you give your entire being up to someone else this is how you learn to feel and this, right here these words, this is how i'm getting by

waking up early with a head full of sleep and the dark in the sky can sometimes be the most lonely feeling it is only then, when i'm so deep inside my skin that i really feel safe starting to question we say that we have to, but there is no such thing there are consequences ofcourse, but there is also choice i have to wonder how that little voice inside my head forcing me out of the covers got so powerful technically, i could just stay in bed technically, i could skate away but there is still that survival instinct too afraid to let go of all that i am used to work is so easy, just standing for hours scan scan scan, happy smile rhetorical questions, the fakest of laughs $40 closer to my wildest dreams i spent too many hours watching tv, but i had nothing else to do little worlds i'm not apart of seeping into my conciousness pull the curtains around matt and school and friends for a while a place where nothing matters, not even in my brain what could possible be safer? he's hurting so much that it's starting to break me jump on a train and leave it all behind i would but...i can't why? i don't know not enough stamina i guess just not enough fucking stamina maybe someday we can be happy, but for now this makes more sense all these miles and we still hurt so bad what happens if we're close and you break my heart? or worse, what happens if i break yours? there's booze in my closet and pills in my drawer there's smoke in my lungs and aches in my head but here in my mind there's only these jumbles of what i think words are supposed to be in the car i talk to myself, making great revelations i pretend i am in a play, some weird artsy shit with a strange camera angle matt wishes he could be tyler durdon but i just want some valium i'm such i realist even with drugs i can't be that crazy i live in too close quarters with normal i hope that it gets easier from here on i hope that it gets easy if we pretend we're okay

right when it happens, i need to release I run up here, heartbeat racing, all the words spilling over from my mind to my fingers, too fast, so fast, most of them just end up lost the littlest things set me off, break me up to these shattered fragments i can't sit and study i can't hear the yelling i don't know why, and i can't explain i don't want to be the best i can be i feel better with just okay they offer drugs and i reach instinctively for the lifeline give me adderall, give me prozac i am weak, and sick, and hurt, and scared i don't want to be normal but i'm so so tired i could use a little break, i want a good day i used to think i'd rather be anything but ordianry, but i never realized how strong and independent that meant i had to be the burn out is incredible with every pill controlled action i inflame a little piece of everything i've become or that circumstance has made me it doesn't matter because nothing matters but it's hard to feel like that when you have to live inside the inexistence in theory never works out for real life as much as i let go, i feel the need to reach again i have already found my method of misery leave me to it, i know what i'm doing in a hundred years, no one will even remember my name