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| chain-wolf (profile) wrote, on 8-14-2005 at 2:33am | |
| Current mood: contemplative Music: Mushroomhead: These Filthy Hands Subject: The Loss Of Dreams Never Attained |
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| Wake up! Who... are you? You, of course. But... how can I be myself, and you I at the same time? Is not that which resides within one and the same? You're me... inside me? I am you. Inside, outside. Upside; and down. I don't understand... Most do not at first. Somethings just take time to settle, boy. But for now let me just tell you this. Let me enlighten you, per se. I am the rise to your fall. I am the positive to your negative. I am the logic to your chaos. I am your mirror reflection. I am just one of the many voices in your head. Though; through all I speak out with more clarity. I am all that you wish to attain but cannot. I am your internal 'perfection', as it were... Who... am I? ...Hah, hah, hah, hah....... -- It had been quite some time since I have had a journal, or anything as such to compose my inner most feelings, or to just drop all my shit off onto. I've been keeping it all to myself for months. I don't know where to throw it but here. Why here? I came here for one person; perhaps she could find something in these tangled words that will eventually fall from my lips and convert to the text which you read. Perhaps she could let me know everything will be ok? ...Fuck if I know. Born on Friday the Thirteenth in the month of September, 1985. Phase of the Moon: New Moon. Birthname; Colin Richard Brown. A little background information? I despised my childhood. Looking back on it now, and all through out it I scolded myself for being such a pathetic waste of flesh. No purpose. No goals. Nothing. Laughing at every stupid thing. Always joking, always doing something stupid. About age twelve I started to come into my own. It was also at this point I found that my birthname did not suit me. I wanted a name created of my own, something I gave myself. Something that fitted who I was. Not something given, passed on. Colin: Who knows why my parents picked this one? Uncommon at the time I 'spose. Richard: The name of one of my father's best friends who died. Great, I'm named after some deceased guy I never knew. Who am I to carry on the name legacy of the dead? Brown: Family name, father's side. The color of fecal matter. Great... so we have a combination of something slightly uncommon, a dead guy, and shit. Great, just fucking wonderful for me. I'm nineteen, currently. Still trying to find a name for myself, so to speak. I've settled for a first name, something I feel right. I have yet to get people to start calling me by it though, they refuse. "It isn't you!", "That's not what I named you.", "The guy I dated was named Colin; not ______." ......... They all got the finger in response. Zane _______ Warrick. I believe. Is what I have so far. Last name subject to change. But Zane. Zane... I feel is right. Makes sense to me. I can live with that. Makes me happy to know I found something I like, and that fits in my mind, at least. Alias? Nicknames? ... There are only two that call me 'Wolfy'. And unless you happen to be either some spaz Australian chick, or Dai fuckin' G, you can settle on calling me Zane. Writing is my passion. Poetry and lyricals. Essays when I see fit. I love to write, and read. Alice Borchardt, Laurell K. Hamilton, Piers Anthony, Alan Dean Foster. All good authors. I dream of creating music one day, perhaps singing or screaming my lungs out in a band. Heh,... quite the dream. Yes. But really the only one whom is going to probably be reading this is you, Dai. So you most all this shit anyway. So why the bloody fuckin' hell am I typing what's already known? Damned if I know. I hide it most all of the time. But, truth is... I'm fuckin' scared. I'm safe here behind my shell, isolate in my own little world. But that which is the reality around my shell freaks the hell out of me. I don't want to leave this shelter of mine. The world is a mean place, and I don't know how I will work within it. I am scared I will fail horribley. I am scared I won't suceed. ... I'm not afraid to die. I dislike this place more and more each passing day. Sort of reminds me of some lyrics by Placebo.. "What good's religion... if it's each other we despise?" ... I get to sit idly by and watch the world destroy itself. How pleasent for me. ...Hah, hah. But, I've deviated from the main facts. My insecurity. I am feeble, weak. I want to be strong. I try to put on that sort of front. But when it is all shaved down and left bare to the bones... I am pathetic. Just an obscure strand of thread on the brink of falling away from the whole ball of yarn. Where am I to go? What am I to do? Who am I? What purpose do I serve? The skies offer no reply. The stars are silent. The earth moves naught for me. ..... I'm scared I won't ever meet you. I don't know... I find myself strangely attachted to you. That I know I definitely don't want to let go of. One of the reasons I find myself trying to cope with the shit around me. I think I can. If I can only hope to come stand by your side one day, and maybe we can both throw stones in to the face of the world... or something. Sort of amusing, how lowly we think of ourselves... wouldn't you agree? Heh. The days pass by and nothing is changing. The days pass by and I find myself drifting pointless along with them. I find life to be amusing. .... Here I go again on another tangent. My mind, the many faceted feature within. A reflection here, an image there, something near, something over there. I cannot bring myself to harm myself in any life threatening way. I wonder how I'll destroy myself in the end? That will remain a mystery up to the point of it's happening. Oh well. Let that go for now. That's another entry all on it's own. Eh... thought I'd write more but I've suddenly lost interest. I think I'll fragment more, write other things in seperate entries. For now this should suffice. -- Today was ok. Picked my mother up from the airport with a friend. I don't drive, mind you, so he did. I just tagged along so he didn't have to go alone. Loud music. Soda. But damn was it hot out! Talked to Dai on the phone. Always enjoyable. Seriously, only person I like to talk to on the phone with. And I am an avid hater of the phone. ;D And that sums up the day. Played Diablo 2 for a bit. Wrote a couple poems and put'em up on my deviant art page. Seems my number for today is '69'... Heh. Uhm, yay? Anyway. I'm done. ...And all that could be? Forever undefined. -Z |
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truth-is-blind | 08-14-05 7:48am Journals are a good place to dump your crap. You know that if you don't want people reading certain entries, you have "Friends only"... Aka me, as well as the restricted password options, where only you can read it.
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