I confess, okay, it is so. It is not. I am not.

Through all shades and reflections, refractions, gamma and tints of each part of it
      Been there.
      Done that.
Just to hide (from myself, no less), to try to deny my nature, to try to escape the fact it's not neurasthenia
and I keep trying, keep pushing
the worst part is no one sees it's fake, it's so silly
genuine, innate, expressed
like hell it is
silly people who don't know what they're talking about
I may not be, but I appreciate it
I see the real ones, I see how fake mine are, how cardboard-propped-up they are
and there are the others, saying it's great, saying there's talent where there's practice
then I see the real ones and they make me cry, make me fear, make me feel
And I see how much practice there is in the world, too much practice, too overexposed
and we Need the talent
Oleg Dou

forget people like me, or ones with even more practice
(damn, how can you not even see?! maybe if you saw him, you'd know how wrong you've been till now...)
(hope shall be my ruin, no?)
turn to him, see it, feel it
maybe even understand it
but at least see what genuine means
see what is
CREATIVITY

(like I could study that, are you serious?!... unless I just change colours, I won't last even a month)

Standing at the crossroads, trying to read the signs
To tell me which way I should go to find the answer,
And all the time I know,
Plant your love and let it grow.
~Eric Clapton - "Let it Grow"

so this is my fork, only the other prongs are too sharp
too painful, too scary to contemplate
I'm faced with a choice I can't make
because I already have such a long long time ago
and the other path might have been better
might have made a better person out of me
or so I would have thought
carefree

I'll keep this quiet (and secret, and safe) because otherwise it'll hurt (others as well)
and this is why the web is my confessor
even though there are big hairy spiders that will probably come eat me...

Suddenly!
A movement in the corner of the room!
And there is nothing I can do
And I realise with fright
That the spiderman is having me for dinner tonight!
~The Cure - "Lullaby"

he wouldn't want to know
he wouldn't be allowed
he wouldn't know
so I might be safe

but, in retrospect... I might have wanted to try that other prong
if I had, though, things would have been so much different than now
and it's not me
it's just not who I am or ever have been
but it might have been fun
now the choice isn't mine anymore
// or so I tell myself because hell if I'm going to contemplate taking it again
// it would hurt too many too much
// or at least too much

so let me get back in my old tiretracks
and I'll be fine
just don't tell any of the 3
and we'll just keep on going


Anybody working on that cloning (preferrably +timetravel) technology?
Because I can really use a copy of me right about now
Especially if it's under a shared mind

Where's Jane when you need her for a quick dip outside?...
Valentine, huh?
Young and beautiful girls are overrated...
sometimes.

Blah blah... people don't read anymore... blah blah... no time... blah blah... short fiction sells... blah blah... magazines...

I never found that to be true for me personally, though. Sure it seemed no one had time to read, and even I could pry myself from the PC a little too rarely (in my opinion) to read a book on paper, but it was never an issue for me: when a book caught my interest it really did and nothing could stop me from reaching the end, drinking the cup to the bottom.
Therein lies the problem: it was all about the end. I realised it was all about having read the book, knowing what it was about, how it ended, what was in it. And that's where it ended.
How did I get to this? I was recently recommended To the Lighthouse(now would this be a short or long work? :) by Virginia Woolf. For the past fiveish days that I've had it (did you know libraries gave you books to read?!) I've only managed to read about 5 or so pages from it. The language is amazing, every little bit you soak up makes your world seem so fake in its simplicity and lack of insight. But I can't seem to get hooked. I love it, I relish in reading it, but I can't seem to get that this is so amazing I'm not going to eat/sleep/live until I've read it feeling. Why?
The language, as I mentioned "subtly" on several occasions, is rich and full. As much as I adore it, though, it makes for a slower reading. Not a problem, really, since I normaly read rather quickly, so this would slow me down to normal speed or something of the sort. But I can't stand it, you see, I can't get hooked to the book, since it demands my attention: every single word, every phrase has to be soaked in, it can't be just speed-read. It's not all about the end here.
It's how I realised it usually was (at least for me). So next time you grab a book please do me a favour? Read it, don't just understand what goes on in it... Especially if it's well written.

Дзен дзенувам... ~Георги Господинов, "Естествен роман"

I am thankful
For I have seen my flaws.
My humbleness has returned
At least on the inside.
I know now
How much more I have to climb
To reach the top
Where the sun shines unaltered.

I had no right
To ask it of you,
Yet you gave me
And still give me more.
I cage your life
And most - your heart,
So push me away
As you should have.

I won't explain, but it is not for you.

True Love never did run smooth... unlike this one.
Not the real deal, but just giving you a taste, a tease of what can be... soon.

@KDElook

You need to be independent.

I honestly couldn't believe this when I first suspescted it. Communist brainwash. I can't believe such people still exist, but then again maybe I'm too idealistic and trust that most people by now accept homosexuality for example (unrelated issue).

I'm not talking about people being brainwashed into blindly believeing and following (communistic/socialistic) ideas. There will always be such people for any idea, that I find normal, if disturbing.
What scared me, what I still find difficult to believe are people without... how should I can it?... people without anything human about them, people with no... self. I'm not talking about character (sadly, as it would have been an improvement) since that was obviously developed during an earlier stage of life, which was not so badly influenced by politics, religion (or the lack thereof) and other broad social factors.

Character is developed ever since a person can speak and act on his/her own. My subject indeed has character, but I also have a theory (that just cleared up) for that. Communism/Socialism is all about being an ideal society, which in general excludes differences between people and, therefore, personal character. After a certain age going to school (not necessarily after graduating, though) getting cookies or whatever children find excessively important at some point or another play a smaller role in a person's life compared to more national or global factors as wars, politics, surviving (to put it basically). Even if a child pre- or in early puberty might not fully understand these factors, they still influence it. Therefore, character development in a child living in a communist/socialist country is suppressed, roughly estimated, before puberty. My subject has an extremely selfish character, is ready to pout, ramble about herself, complain even if no one's listening plus a number of other (quite annoying) traits. Does that not sound a little... childish to you? Consider that the subject I'm talking of is past-middle-aged! It does make sense to have a such an infantile behaviour if that is all you got to 'build.' But it is not my subject's character that got me to write this...

As I mentioned (and I could be completely wrong here, but this is my personal opinion), communism/socialism suppress the, well, person in a person. My subject shows absolutely NO individuality and even fear of such! Since she is retired (as implied above), she basically has to stay home all day. She asks me what to do. She expects me, in a way, to tell her what to do with her time with herself... to order her! For pretty much the first time today, I went in depth explaining that she should be self-sufficient, she should find her own interests and explore them, use her time to her advantage and find how best to spend it. I told her she has to be independent and her response amazed me. Several times she answered me either in a desperate way, trying to tell me she can't do anything, expecting me to give her an idea, to tell her what to do. A couple of other times she was mad at me, seemingly or as far as I understood, for even suggesting something like that. In the end after giving her options and ideas to my best ability, she started crying (as happens often, which is not all that surprising considering the above paragraph) and explaining she can't go on like that, she has to do something (insert me repeating all of the above, how she can do everything she wants to and her ignoring me) and she can't do anything. She said she wanted to die and when I told her that's the easy way out, when I said that was cowardly she laughed and told me not to say it again. Of course, most suicidal people would answer me that, but meh...

She still persists there is no 'use' to an existence like hers, she wants to die, there is no point in not doing anything (which is only her fault)... I don't know... It's not all that annoying as it is... scary. I am mortified to find out there are still people whose only purpose in life is to serve.

Promise I'll never be like that?

Oh yeah, I'm in heaven...

I have angels here
et(ernal|hereal) love
lovelylovely old pixel graphics (Abandonia!!! Goddess, I love coincidences... Especially when I cause them. They don't scare me anymore...)
penguins and cats
and vector versus pixel

And the day has hardly begun.

Pixel pixel pixel pixel?

It's all about wee bits and pieces. Pixel==computer atom

A little thingamajig from dA to, maybe, comemorate, their 6th birthday and the new v5 design. It has its flaws, but, considering I'm terrible at webdesign, it's not my place to critic.

Life's okay, back home for good, considering artistic occupancies...

Lace and ribbons and children's drool, little rabbits and scarred stuffed toys.

Wet paint.

A conversation made me think about change and how it's accepted by people.

The actual conversation was about blini(the Russian/Eastern Europe type of pancakes). A friend asked what was the difference between blini and the normal type of pancakes we have here (which are not like the US ones). I said the only difference is that they were made on what is called a сач, though it really doesn't matter. She said she heard they were made with animal fat instead of butter (and sounded pretty disgusted, even if with reason). We explained it was mainly because there was no butter in villages at the time, so people made it with fat.

Okay, after that charming story - what's my point? Here's the question I asked myself then: After butter became more widely available, did they start cooking blini with butter, because it was better quality, or did they keep to the original for the sake of tradition? Does it matter if that ingredient is changed for a similar but better one?

Is tradition more important than improvement? I like to think we're living during a time of improvements, of competition, but... Do we? Are we as open-minded as I want us to be?

 

No.

People are so thick-headed around me, even for the simplest of things.
Taiwan?! Yes, mom, Taiwan, because it's a better school, now can I please resume?

Due dates, report cards... oh but not those kind of due dates.
Artsy, aren't we? Uhh... no?

Music for today, studying, pixelling... Thu and Fri? Hopefully, just learned about it... We'll see - I gotta talk to some people...

I was looking for love
With the strength
Of a new day dawning
And the beautiful sun...

maybe even a birthday gift? I have to talk to the others and him as well. Musiiiiiiiiic. Musique. Musik. Музика.

Today's gone, tomorrow's coming...
I know I haven't studied properly, I know how badly I'm going to come crashing down...
Down onto a green meadow, absolutely naked, between two gucci-clad gentlemen...

A few more days of torture, easier and easier, then a week of freedom, some rpgs, some artistic freedom, some SAT vocab and exercise.
Then a week of water, H2O, guitars and b(ea|i)tches...
Then... freedom. A trip maybe, some photography there, I wonder how much it's worth...
We'll see.

I want my heart... no, not back, just close by.

Am I dead? or just lost ~temporary I hope. a drop of water is all it takes, a wireless kb and a what, 5-year-old? and some cartoons and a cat second virginia of the fifteenth ammendment declaring independence kill school american highway signs make me nauseaus no-shoes muddy feet, naked, lying beaten round the swamp, gemini and all that, gotta see no explaining this time, please life was taken from me before it was given back and I have no velvet robe who cares, just sing... there's no music in my life that's it kill the SS and revive it/them again maybe it/they'll help us against that Goodnight y'all and don't beg me for a single... smile. Whowantstostartupafightcl ub? two shirts, two pairs of trousers, some haiku and a copy machine... and some beds.

my heart was in the wrong place
but nevermind
I never believed it anyway...

well... maybe

in between the seconds

I hoped
that
maybe
it would
but no.

well nevermind now
torn within[the g removed]
just cut me up
like lonelyness does
but I like it, I like it!

Everybody's dying
Why?!
We're free, right?!

I'll try again
secretly
silently
certainly
and hope
between the seconds
and cry
after the decision

if no one knows
no one will console you

why do you take it so personally?
you know you suck...

Yes, doll, I know I do (another doll, not you)
Welcome back... I'm glad you came...
I... Missed you... Loved you... Love you.

Do you have a blade? 

So he's gone now, for good.
I've spoken up
down
right
wrong

for new york

Fly away, butterfly, your [black feathery] wings have healed and grown back. Fly away from me and don't come back...

Except for that, I was cleansed today, tonight. Changed my opinion of a man. Okay, so maybe he does know what he's talking about... a beautiful adaptation.

da? no. no time... though I do agree it's deceitful. Here, mommy... I made this for you <3

You should really take a bite
a lick.
Or just enjoy the show like
I am.

It's been crazy, beautiful and... strange. Sexual or not so much, masculine or not, always oh so gentle, oh so beautiful. Scrape my neck with a knife, get my blood boiling.
Breathing... heavily.

Forget that.
Big sunglasses and a smile's all he needs. And a camera.

I've started smoking poetry (again)

No sepia, no brown, no surprise birthday presents

Bruised and beaten up to a pulp
but SMILING

I love you, guys
You make my day

goodnight, sweet dreams 

My life is a soap opera
a three ring circus...
no wait, only if there were just three

Love
runs miles
jumps through hoops
gives you an overall sense of dizzyness

It entagles everything
It is entangled in everything already
then when someone wants it
when someone starts to pull it
to pull the strings
everything else falls apart
crashes, breaks

I'm not even affected by any of this

Frankness is usually a risky endeavour
Most females don't like to deal with it
I hate dealing without it

First order of business

Happy birthday darliiiing ^_^
wishes for more blue-striped pants, more orange jackets, more orange hats and fuzzy wing-hair
My true blue msue...

next we have a torn up heart

for it I must repeat a quoatation I was recently reminded of
"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." ~Oscar Wilde
Dream of her, not the Dreaming
you see her anyway, smell her hair, remember the scent of her perfume, see her eyes again

Love is just a druug..... 

A weekend at best, a morning to rest and an afternoon to a girl fight.

It's all gonna be over soon.

I need a gentle file or something. I want anarchy. I want chaos. I want beauty and peace...

Darling, darling thing, I miss your high-pitched voice. Gentle kurty thing. I hope you've gotten over whatever was bothering you this year: doubt, hurt... You are beautiful. Precious thing, self-doubtful. Stop wearing black. Where are all the strangely coloured jackets and the weirdly striped trousers?

Come back. Thanks, now... give a hearty laugh

Truthfulness.

Major principle. If you care abotu the person you talk to - be honest. Never hide your identity (meaning, of course, not about going under cover for CIA or something, but rather fooling the people around you about yourself on a day to day basis). Simply put - they don't deserve it.

Why would you hide from them? Not to scare or hurt them?! How are they special to you, how have they deserved for you to take care of them?! They haven't.

Being oneself is being free. Never ever ever pretend to be "something you're not." Truth frees you. Are you afraid to expose a fragile self to a cruel world? The world is cruel to you in physical ways - protect yourself physically. The world targets your mind/soul/self - it is not protected anyway, even if they don't know. Better to expose yourself - they might be compassionate(Fors fortis...) or you have the chance to strenghten yourself.

There are days when you feel so hurt you can't even force yourself to relax your arms from protecting your chest. The whole world is after you and you have to protect yourself. Sure. You can't be strong all the time. But you can try. Try to show your true self. Try not to laugh if you don't feel happy. Try not to speak if you don't feel like talking. Try not to smile if you are sad. Try to be yourself. For an hour, for a day.... forever?

Try. It's the only path to success. 

A thief caught red-handed, so to speak. What for? For art. What art?! You do not know the faintest tint of meaning that word posesses! How can you pretend to actually want to make it?! But I... NO 'but'-s! And anyway you can always take the other one! But it's not at my disposal, it's not mine-- And this one is?! How dare you take something liek this and not even tell or... or ask?! How... how can I tell you how afraid I am of asking? You will ask me back what i need it for... I cannot tell you, for I do not know myself. After that who in thei right mind would grant me my wish-ed. I was going to be denied this and i had a choice - to have it and suffer or not to have it and bee interrogated. I chose to suffer for art. I know how stupid it sounds, yes... And no... I didn't use it. You should be glad of that. I hope you like the taste of my tears as well...

Procrastinator
It's going to killy ou someday

Lost beauty on a back-door highway
Drying animal skins

Tiger ~ Puma

I want to keep you alive a little longer

Did you ever have that?!

b-i-t-c-h
In a little black dress
half-face, half-shadow
and his little vampire
in her long cloak and bashed eyes

FIGHT ME
by the music of the night of the pink crescent
midnight fist-fight

where's the grace?!
will it return? Tomorrow I revive
My True Blue Muse

I can't even remember how I saw them first
those eyes
Why do I look down now?!
He knows you
battering eyelashes, you're mine

I'm reviving you, my bride of frakenstein, my love, my passion, come BACK! 

I find it somewhat disturbing to have acids in a cough medicine... but then again I suppose there are acids in Coke as well... Though I do not recall the Coca Cola Company insisting that their products are good for one's throat.

Either way, I s'pose it doesn't matter - I don't really take it anyway, I just wash down a spoonfull. What does it take for me to admit I'm sick? Unconsciousness.

They have but one purpose - to find, control and destroy--

I won't finish the last word, or it will be obvious those were Xavier's words. Yet.. think about it.

"to find, control and destroy" humans

Tasks, work, school... Monotonous lifestyles. They destroy us. I need a change. I want to see carnage, I want to see ruins, I want to see meadows and sunshine. So what if they're opposites? I need change!

Lightbulb grenades, just watch, angel with lead wings, hear my screams, Dylan and Eric... ha! I overshadow you so badly you'd turn in your graves! Just give a chance, give me a shot... give me a melee!

They must not know, but they won't believe it either way. Just. Give. Me. A. Shot.

The gentlest creature I ever laid my eyes upon

a pair of piercing blue eyes

Exquisite in his every word, every step, every breath... When did I give up on infatuation, perfect-ness, grace?...

I miss you... When did I give up on that ultimate, unquestioanble, exilarating happiness?

I'm back 

How can you suffer so much?! I won't let you die in my hands... Just let me forget you are my future... please? 

Proud, if not perfect.

I have acknowledgement from him

I ahve a finished work I absolutely love. It's not perfect visually, but I'm so proud of the content. It feels right to fight prejudice so openly, beautifully and convinclingly...

Perfect and perverted... I love you, I love it. It's done.