i set my life on fire, just to watch it burn to the ground of which i have built it from.
justine's post got me thinking. what am i? she's the bee, the insect, the last kid in gym, that muddy puddle. but what am i? i know how most people see me. but, how do i see me?

i put on a face in public. i have my own inner-being underneath this strong facade in which i hide. i don't even know what my true self is because i guess i'm too scared to show it. i've only recently discovered i've been living a lie my whole life, and that i'm deeper than this mask shows.

i creep out when writing. peek between the ink and look at the world through my true eyes. everything is blurred. i tell stories in my writing. though few can decipher. not even i know what i mean when i write, but sometimes, later on after i've finished the piece, it comes to me.

when i look in the mirror, i don't really see what i think i am. i don't smile at myself. i don't care for myself most of the time and sometimes i hate what i've become. why can't i live in that make-believe world, where i was at least funny. sometimes. and not just stupid. i want to change. my whole outlook, and how people look in. but...i'm afraid such a big change would kill who i was, sending me plumeting down into a depressant filled world, where death is the only way out. and then i would be happy. then i could continuously write, for only myself. because there would be no one, or nothing to write for. because i then, would trully be alone.

of course there would be someone there. in the darkness. another lost soul, but i wouldn't be able to see them because i would be blinded by my own self hatred and the ink of the writing in my mind.

but on a lighter note. 3 days. thats all. three days. i've went through a similar 3 days of waiting like this. but the prize was far most spectacular than being able to sleep in.



i will break this mask which binds my soul. and out will pour light from inside. blinding all who hate me or what i've suddenly become.

pretzels sit next to me, the bag open half empty, or is it half full? the thought of the salt makes me want to throw up and yet i think i'll eat some
I don’t know. I just don’t know. It seems like I just can make stuff up now, I have no reason to really write, but it controls me. It creates and destroys me. And in the end, what will I be? An old guy with a bunch of worthless poems. I’ll set them on fire and jump on in. burn with my creation. Maybe that’s how I’ll end up. But maybe I won’t give up. Maybe I’ll keep writing and maybe I’ll make something of myself. Get some published and sell them to some big names. Then they’ll make millions off of my hard work and I’ll make 50 bucks a poem. A starving artist. Or maybe I could get a real job, have a boring life trying to support to annoying kids and a bitching wife. Or maybe I’ll get lucky, have a narrow urethra and not have kids, and get a really hot super model girlfriend that likes poets. Or maybe I’ll die alone adopting as many kids as I can. Maybe I’ll be a cop, or an astronaut, or a fireman. A doctor or a lawyer. I would never be any of those. Maybe an astronaut, but only to see aliens.

I'm starting to like girls i don't even know. like, not just really know, but, there last names and stuff. crazy. i'm having withdrawls from not making out for so long. my lips are withering away. atrophying.

my cat is sleeping on a shelf on my computer desk. i wish i was a cat.
i've been staring at this wondering what to write. wondering what i'm worth or if i'm just a life. what would happen if i died right now? Would it make a difference, would i be missed? nothing big would happen. i've got to make something of myself. something bigger than this. i need to be discovered. to discover. i need to be found by someone. to get nursed back to life, or what i had before. its like theres something missing sometimes. when i'm alone. thinking. my life is on fire. and i just sit here and watch it burn.

if anything in this world i need a ice cream sandwhich right now....
i need something to write for. when i lost the girl, and the love, it seemed that i couldn't write anymore. but then i wrote about missing the girl. now i don't miss her or the love, and realize that it wasn't ever worth going through all i went through for it. but where does that leave me now? what am i without that? just a simple person waiting for something to come along to save him from a miserable lonliness? or am i more than that without anyone? its a confusing world with confusing theories. but, i like it for some reason. some fucked up reason...

GRRRRRRR-EAT
well, today. today today today today today today today. today was a good day. it was warm enough to get a great hack circle goin and we played i think our best in awhile. i go so many um, jesters. it was great. the best! i can finally get them.

well, amanda talked to me today. i don't know why, but i guess she doesn't hate me anymore. thats good. maybe. still just sarcastic comments. i can't believe i'm over her. its the greatest feeling in the world. i totally feel nothing for her now. i love it. not loving her. its a good thing.

i try to be a good person. i really do. and i think i might just do a good job at that. not many people hate me, or dislike me, that i know of anyway. i try to be nice, not to be mean. and if i am, its not personal. you just made for a good joke at a good time.

i'll talk to you later people.
get laid. have fun.
eat potatoes and cheese.
(they're good for you)

I think i've suddenly picked up a few enemies
They may not be enemies, but they hate me the same. No, they don't want to kill me, but if they had the chance, i don't know if they could resist. Somehow, one person i used to love more than anything hates me. out of nowhere. i don't know what i did, but i guess i don't really care. (ha, yeah right, i'm writing in my journal about it) I'm just going to act like nothings wrong and lie to myself once again. The other, kaylen, she hates me, and i don't give a rats ass about it. i never really liked her anyway. but i wasn't going to say anything, i never 'hated' her. but if she wants to hate me go right ahead. no hair off my shoulders.

life has been pretty easy. today i found out i have a 100% in my honors english class, and i'm am non-arguably (is that a word?) the dumbest kid in the class. maybe the teacher's in love with me. thats the only explanation i can come up with right now, at 1:43 in the morning.

we don't have school today do we?
I don't think so...

Anway...

I like someone. but i don't feel that much for her. not like i ever felt with Hater 1. I don't know if i'll ever feel that way about anyone ever again. the fact that i really loved her and lost her makes me just want to get a girlfriend to have sex with and not have a relationship. but that would be wrong.

maybe thats why all guys are the way they are. they've been hurt and need sex. i know i do. so if there are any prostitutes or whores reading...call me. 696 - 8751. or write toll free at kelso263@hotmail.com.
i'll be sure to write back.

I think i'm going to become a prostitute. they seem to get laid alot. if you want some sex, call me. or write me. i'll write you back.

-Writing back may take 1-3 weeks if not longer. Ron and Ron Accesories are not reliable for any injuries sustained during intercourse-