Friday, August 21, 2009


I'm finding it harder and harder to keep up the mask. As I sit here, face frozen in a childish & ungrateful pout, I can't help but wonder why I'm still trying. The more I try to edit every passing thought down into an easily-digestible version for the people around me, the more I just become enraged by it.

Sui Generis

We spend most of our lives building around ourselves carefully constructed walls of faces & idle-thoughts. We wear masks we change at whim, becoming who we need to be to fit into any given situation. We are a society of shape-shifters wearing borrowed bits of personalities we admire or fear, cobbled together in atrocious quilts we laughingly claim we *are* while hiding beneath their fragile shells. Meanwhile, who we truly are thrashes about on basement floors, muscles atrophied, throats worn thin by decades of screaming to be heard, eyes still wide as Hummer hubcaps, hoping to see a glimmer of daylight, longing to be free. Then we wonder why no one truly gets us. Go figure.

I'm sick of it, hiding bits of myself I previously thought too wild or weird to be the face that people see. Sometimes, I can't tell what the hell I want or how the hell I'm supposed to get what I do want. That's okay. That also means I have to be okay with the times when I feel like burning down the world or crying like a baby or laughing till I choke. It means coming to grips with the idea that most people aren't like me and changing myself isn't the answer.

I want a world & a life that feels right for me, I have to be me and look for the things that will make me happy. I have to let go and take the dive and all the other silly little cliches that are cliches for a reason.

I can see the scaffolding holding up the walls of my own insanity, but I can't seem to find a way to either tear them down or build em up. It's like swimming parallel to the shore and wondering why you can't get home and you're starting to drown.

Coming to grips with my own ennui and trying to find the will to fight for something, anything really, is a lot harder than I was told it would be.

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