Fuck.

Now ive gone and done it. ive created this responsibility. with the whole fucking world now, all at once, and all i ever meant to do was just see. just peek and see.
oh, ive started this now, havent i?? yep. just gone and did it, didnt cha? fuck.
and i did it with out thinking, the way i wanted to. if i had known what huge step i was about to take as found this place, and clicked those buttons, i wouldve stopped. ( i know the way i am with you. but i longed for the other. this isnt what my writing is. this is some twisted ache of it, frustrated and stuck. YAY! Great.) (and i will stick periods around parentheses where ever i want.).
everytime i write right here, it turns into this big fucking ordeal. like i cant get to the point.
Oh, Ive done it now., and now i have this responsibility to uphold. dont i?
this is mine. and i didnt know what i was getting into. oh this has to stop. the evil force that makes me explain all my actions. and reactions. has to go. oh, i must exorcise some beast or other. fine.
sigh.
if this is the only way i can do this, lets just fucking do this already.



the only way i can be here is fully. the only way i can do this is to stop feeling like im pouring this into ears, splashing this into eyes. so i will. fine.
the other only way i can be here is to speak the truth. (it is sure to fail if i dont. and im tired of things becoming doomed into nonexistance.) ok. and this is the hard one, comes with alot of raggedy baggage. and i dont like whats inside. and i suppose ill look anyway, later.
Truth. fine then. god. sigh. fine.
i dont even know what to say about it. here i am, trying to get my ideas down and there are too many thoughts distracting me. it exhausts my fire, a little... just do it.

The Big Scary

Shaking my hands.
Scaring my resolve.
Frightening away Absolution.
___

This will be a place i revisit often. im gonna make the titles (on the left) as useful to me as i can. If i can find a way... (Hey, just discovered the keywords, and how they work. i have found another tool. right on.) There is nothing i hate more than availability without purpose. Its such a waste. Like frilly pictures with no depth. Pointless. this is pretty much the way i feel about my art, or the lack thereof.
Dark looming block.
Bleeding dry my creativity; where there is no more the lift of the pen, the stroke of the brush, the movement of fingers over alphabet. nothingness becoming itself. Funny how something with such emptiness can become so enveloping. its a fucking sucking vacuum. not fun. Ever had one of these? And now i need a new thread about the artist/writer block. i also need more words. and more availability of them. i could read the dictionary. and how can i express my own laughing without chatrooming it up with something as pedestrain as `lol`. guess there isnt a way. oh well.
___

So exhausting to go back over something numerous times to make sure its really ok.
Maybe good enough is good enough.
god. Dont be so afraid.
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You. human there. Apparently its important and normal for me to talk to myself when writing.
And apparently its necessary for me to tell you that.
No need to be alarmed.
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Ive been swinging between two constants:
That I must be here, and that I must..................... dammit, the words are gone again. I never got to the big reason of being here.
The Ultimate Truth. Around the time Honesty walked in...
Ill start a new post about it. i think it may deserve its own.
___

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!!
I missed The Riches again tonite! Aargh, aaack, and aaauuuggghhh!! Dammit. Thats like, the third week in a row. Stupid internet. grrr. Me not happy. And stupid showcase wont let me watch any episodes... rrrghh. Love the theme song. I hardly ever turn my tv on anymore, but i think thats my favorite show.