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You know that feeling, which comes across you, when you realise that you're this person who you really don't want to be. Of course, we all want to be someone else. Someone richer, someone taller, someone thinner, someone more popular, someone famous. Just being that someone else creates envy amongst us all. For we have something to envy about them, as they have something, which we don't have and want.
Perhaps, my problem is that I don't necessarily envy others, but I'm too influenced by them to decide who I am. I've went through my entire life with my parents smoking, my old bro smoking from 11 years old, about 90% of my friends taking up smoking, yet I've never once even tried it. Perhaps, that's shows a strong sense of character, or perhaps that's just what I'm hoping.
So, the point of the paragraph above is to say that I'm not influenced by others. Whilst everyone else is arranging "Gettin' pi**ed" parties for the summer, I'm deciding whether I'm gonna bother going down to where I used to live, to see friends, or staying at home to work. Although staying at home and working seems more fun, at this present moment in time. But, my mind changes all the time. It's the same with all of us, one minute we love each other, the next we're at war and what happens in between is never fully expressed.
So many opinions going around make people like myself possess no confidence, and it's not having confidence with myself, it's having no confidence in others. Not having the confidence to believe that they're going to do the right thing, over the popular thing. Which leads me to seeing that I'm different from everyone else. Long-term friends through SR will probably have discovered the change in my personality over the year or so I've been here, and it's changed from being a shy, unpopular character, to being a bit of an idiot and loud. I find that there are these two sides to us all. The person we portray to others, then there’s the real character that hides beneath the surface. The one who realises what they’ve done is wrong. The one who takes the time to look over things and realise how bad they are, before returning to daily life, when the impostor returns.
I’ve changed. I know that. My grades have done down, my thirst to learn design has gone up. I seem to be the person who is unconsciously affected by others, and have been changed into a character that isn’t real, anymore. There’s no real side to me, and there’s no real side to the way I think. One moment, everything seems normal, the next everything seems wrong, and it’s only when I think about it is when I realise how bad things are, but then neglect to remember it. It seems whilst trying to be this different character, I’ve lost everything that’s made me me, along the way and am now unable to show the real me, for what people will see. I try to care, I try to be this considerate person who’d always be willing to help, and some of the time I am. But, we’ve all done things we’re not exactly proud of, and I’m not an exception. It’s hard to explain, and perhaps I’ll give up trying, but then that once again says a lot about me. Giving up too easily, then trying to ignore the situation, but spending too much time thinking about it.
I feel unwanted. I feel like no one really cares, anymore. I feel deprived. I feel idiotic. I feel left out. I feel abolished. I feel as if I can’t explain myself, but just want to. I feel incoherent. I want someone to listen. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want this drought of fear surrounding me at every move. At every word spoke. At every action. I’m fed up. I want to type and type and type without ever needing to use the delete key, but I have no choice, as words are more powerful then daggers, but not as powerful as love. A man can’t choose who he loves, just like he can’t decide his bank balance. It makes logical sense, and the more you hope you could play God and change the impossibilities of life, you realise the certain inalienable truth, that there is no truth.
I don’t like how we’re all judged and seen by other people because of our appearance or intelligence. Our appearance is something in which we are unable to change, as in our general appearance, the one that isn’t seen by your clothes, your hairstyle, but by your practical appearance. We don’t choose the way we look, although enhancements in technology make it more and more possible, but this alone shows the world in which we live in. The fact that we need to have all these cosmetics, in order to achieve what? To make us feel better about ourselves, or to make us stand out more and reach for attention, as that’s what it seems to me. Everything is based on the attention of others, but never myself. We seem to be categorised in any way possible, to define what we are, to define the nature in which we live our lives. Intelligent, stupid, idiotic, psychotic, overweight, anorexic, male, female.
Even writing this sounds like a desperate plea for attention, and all from people who I’ve never met? Surely that seems desperate, but this is an action and every action has a reaction, which is why we’re so anxious for others to read or topics. That’s the reaction of the action you’ve created. For people to take notice and understand, what perhaps you’re unable to explain, even with words.
So, who am I? Life. Filled with opportunities and chances. Chances to choose for yourself. Chances you take which lead you to the road of glory, for acceptance lies just around the corner of opportunity, but first you have to find that road.
Perhaps, my problem is that I don't necessarily envy others, but I'm too influenced by them to decide who I am. I've went through my entire life with my parents smoking, my old bro smoking from 11 years old, about 90% of my friends taking up smoking, yet I've never once even tried it. Perhaps, that's shows a strong sense of character, or perhaps that's just what I'm hoping.
So, the point of the paragraph above is to say that I'm not influenced by others. Whilst everyone else is arranging "Gettin' pi**ed" parties for the summer, I'm deciding whether I'm gonna bother going down to where I used to live, to see friends, or staying at home to work. Although staying at home and working seems more fun, at this present moment in time. But, my mind changes all the time. It's the same with all of us, one minute we love each other, the next we're at war and what happens in between is never fully expressed.
So many opinions going around make people like myself possess no confidence, and it's not having confidence with myself, it's having no confidence in others. Not having the confidence to believe that they're going to do the right thing, over the popular thing. Which leads me to seeing that I'm different from everyone else. Long-term friends through SR will probably have discovered the change in my personality over the year or so I've been here, and it's changed from being a shy, unpopular character, to being a bit of an idiot and loud. I find that there are these two sides to us all. The person we portray to others, then there’s the real character that hides beneath the surface. The one who realises what they’ve done is wrong. The one who takes the time to look over things and realise how bad they are, before returning to daily life, when the impostor returns.
I’ve changed. I know that. My grades have done down, my thirst to learn design has gone up. I seem to be the person who is unconsciously affected by others, and have been changed into a character that isn’t real, anymore. There’s no real side to me, and there’s no real side to the way I think. One moment, everything seems normal, the next everything seems wrong, and it’s only when I think about it is when I realise how bad things are, but then neglect to remember it. It seems whilst trying to be this different character, I’ve lost everything that’s made me me, along the way and am now unable to show the real me, for what people will see. I try to care, I try to be this considerate person who’d always be willing to help, and some of the time I am. But, we’ve all done things we’re not exactly proud of, and I’m not an exception. It’s hard to explain, and perhaps I’ll give up trying, but then that once again says a lot about me. Giving up too easily, then trying to ignore the situation, but spending too much time thinking about it.
I feel unwanted. I feel like no one really cares, anymore. I feel deprived. I feel idiotic. I feel left out. I feel abolished. I feel as if I can’t explain myself, but just want to. I feel incoherent. I want someone to listen. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want this drought of fear surrounding me at every move. At every word spoke. At every action. I’m fed up. I want to type and type and type without ever needing to use the delete key, but I have no choice, as words are more powerful then daggers, but not as powerful as love. A man can’t choose who he loves, just like he can’t decide his bank balance. It makes logical sense, and the more you hope you could play God and change the impossibilities of life, you realise the certain inalienable truth, that there is no truth.
I don’t like how we’re all judged and seen by other people because of our appearance or intelligence. Our appearance is something in which we are unable to change, as in our general appearance, the one that isn’t seen by your clothes, your hairstyle, but by your practical appearance. We don’t choose the way we look, although enhancements in technology make it more and more possible, but this alone shows the world in which we live in. The fact that we need to have all these cosmetics, in order to achieve what? To make us feel better about ourselves, or to make us stand out more and reach for attention, as that’s what it seems to me. Everything is based on the attention of others, but never myself. We seem to be categorised in any way possible, to define what we are, to define the nature in which we live our lives. Intelligent, stupid, idiotic, psychotic, overweight, anorexic, male, female.
Even writing this sounds like a desperate plea for attention, and all from people who I’ve never met? Surely that seems desperate, but this is an action and every action has a reaction, which is why we’re so anxious for others to read or topics. That’s the reaction of the action you’ve created. For people to take notice and understand, what perhaps you’re unable to explain, even with words.
So, who am I? Life. Filled with opportunities and chances. Chances to choose for yourself. Chances you take which lead you to the road of glory, for acceptance lies just around the corner of opportunity, but first you have to find that road.
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You know that feeling, which comes across you, when you realise that you're this person who you really don't want to be. Of course, we all want to be someone else. Someone richer, someone taller, someone thinner, someone more popular, someone famous. Just being that someone else creates envy amongst us all. For we have something to envy about them, as they have something, which we don't have and want.
Perhaps, my problem is that I don't necessarily envy others, but I'm too influenced by them to decide who I am. I've went through my entire life with my parents smoking, my old bro smoking from 11 years old, about 90% of my friends taking up smoking, yet I've never once even tried it. Perhaps, that's shows a strong sense of character, or perhaps that's just what I'm hoping.
So, the point of the paragraph above is to say that I'm not influenced by others. Whilst everyone else is arranging "Gettin' pi**ed" parties for the summer, I'm deciding whether I'm gonna bother going down to where I used to live, to see friends, or staying at home to work. Although staying at home and working seems more fun, at this present moment in time. But, my mind changes all the time. It's the same with all of us, one minute we love each other, the next we're at war and what happens in between is never fully expressed.
So many opinions going around make people like myself possess no confidence, and it's not having confidence with myself, it's having no confidence in others. Not having the confidence to believe that they're going to do the right thing, over the popular thing. Which leads me to seeing that I'm different from everyone else. Long-term friends through SR will probably have discovered the change in my personality over the year or so I've been here, and it's changed from being a shy, unpopular character, to being a bit of an idiot and loud. I find that there are these two sides to us all. The person we portray to others, then there’s the real character that hides beneath the surface. The one who realises what they’ve done is wrong. The one who takes the time to look over things and realise how bad they are, before returning to daily life, when the impostor returns.
I’ve changed. I know that. My grades have done down, my thirst to learn design has gone up. I seem to be the person who is unconsciously affected by others, and have been changed into a character that isn’t real, anymore. There’s no real side to me, and there’s no real side to the way I think. One moment, everything seems normal, the next everything seems wrong, and it’s only when I think about it is when I realise how bad things are, but then neglect to remember it. It seems whilst trying to be this different character, I’ve lost everything that’s made me me, along the way and am now unable to show the real me, for what people will see. I try to care, I try to be this considerate person who’d always be willing to help, and some of the time I am. But, we’ve all done things we’re not exactly proud of, and I’m not an exception. It’s hard to explain, and perhaps I’ll give up trying, but then that once again says a lot about me. Giving up too easily, then trying to ignore the situation, but spending too much time thinking about it.
I feel unwanted. I feel like no one really cares, anymore. I feel deprived. I feel idiotic. I feel left out. I feel abolished. I feel as if I can’t explain myself, but just want to. I feel incoherent. I want someone to listen. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want this drought of fear surrounding me at every move. At every word spoke. At every action. I’m fed up. I want to type and type and type without ever needing to use the delete key, but I have no choice, as words are more powerful then daggers, but not as powerful as love. A man can’t choose who he loves, just like he can’t decide his bank balance. It makes logical sense, and the more you hope you could play God and change the impossibilities of life, you realise the certain inalienable truth, that there is no truth.
I don’t like how we’re all judged and seen by other people because of our appearance or intelligence. Our appearance is something in which we are unable to change, as in our general appearance, the one that isn’t seen by your clothes, your hairstyle, but by your practical appearance. We don’t choose the way we look, although enhancements in technology make it more and more possible, but this alone shows the world in which we live in. The fact that we need to have all these cosmetics, in order to achieve what? To make us feel better about ourselves, or to make us stand out more and reach for attention, as that’s what it seems to me. Everything is based on the attention of others, but never myself. We seem to be categorised in any way possible, to define what we are, to define the nature in which we live our lives. Intelligent, stupid, idiotic, psychotic, overweight, anorexic, male, female.
Even writing this sounds like a desperate plea for attention, and all from people who I’ve never met? Surely that seems desperate, but this is an action and every action has a reaction, which is why we’re so anxious for others to read or topics. That’s the reaction of the action you’ve created. For people to take notice and understand, what perhaps you’re unable to explain, even with words.
So, who am I? Life. Filled with opportunities and chances. Chances to choose for yourself. Chances you take which lead you to the road of glory, for acceptance lies just around the corner of opportunity, but first you have to find that road.
Perhaps, my problem is that I don't necessarily envy others, but I'm too influenced by them to decide who I am. I've went through my entire life with my parents smoking, my old bro smoking from 11 years old, about 90% of my friends taking up smoking, yet I've never once even tried it. Perhaps, that's shows a strong sense of character, or perhaps that's just what I'm hoping.
So, the point of the paragraph above is to say that I'm not influenced by others. Whilst everyone else is arranging "Gettin' pi**ed" parties for the summer, I'm deciding whether I'm gonna bother going down to where I used to live, to see friends, or staying at home to work. Although staying at home and working seems more fun, at this present moment in time. But, my mind changes all the time. It's the same with all of us, one minute we love each other, the next we're at war and what happens in between is never fully expressed.
So many opinions going around make people like myself possess no confidence, and it's not having confidence with myself, it's having no confidence in others. Not having the confidence to believe that they're going to do the right thing, over the popular thing. Which leads me to seeing that I'm different from everyone else. Long-term friends through SR will probably have discovered the change in my personality over the year or so I've been here, and it's changed from being a shy, unpopular character, to being a bit of an idiot and loud. I find that there are these two sides to us all. The person we portray to others, then there’s the real character that hides beneath the surface. The one who realises what they’ve done is wrong. The one who takes the time to look over things and realise how bad they are, before returning to daily life, when the impostor returns.
I’ve changed. I know that. My grades have done down, my thirst to learn design has gone up. I seem to be the person who is unconsciously affected by others, and have been changed into a character that isn’t real, anymore. There’s no real side to me, and there’s no real side to the way I think. One moment, everything seems normal, the next everything seems wrong, and it’s only when I think about it is when I realise how bad things are, but then neglect to remember it. It seems whilst trying to be this different character, I’ve lost everything that’s made me me, along the way and am now unable to show the real me, for what people will see. I try to care, I try to be this considerate person who’d always be willing to help, and some of the time I am. But, we’ve all done things we’re not exactly proud of, and I’m not an exception. It’s hard to explain, and perhaps I’ll give up trying, but then that once again says a lot about me. Giving up too easily, then trying to ignore the situation, but spending too much time thinking about it.
I feel unwanted. I feel like no one really cares, anymore. I feel deprived. I feel idiotic. I feel left out. I feel abolished. I feel as if I can’t explain myself, but just want to. I feel incoherent. I want someone to listen. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want this drought of fear surrounding me at every move. At every word spoke. At every action. I’m fed up. I want to type and type and type without ever needing to use the delete key, but I have no choice, as words are more powerful then daggers, but not as powerful as love. A man can’t choose who he loves, just like he can’t decide his bank balance. It makes logical sense, and the more you hope you could play God and change the impossibilities of life, you realise the certain inalienable truth, that there is no truth.
I don’t like how we’re all judged and seen by other people because of our appearance or intelligence. Our appearance is something in which we are unable to change, as in our general appearance, the one that isn’t seen by your clothes, your hairstyle, but by your practical appearance. We don’t choose the way we look, although enhancements in technology make it more and more possible, but this alone shows the world in which we live in. The fact that we need to have all these cosmetics, in order to achieve what? To make us feel better about ourselves, or to make us stand out more and reach for attention, as that’s what it seems to me. Everything is based on the attention of others, but never myself. We seem to be categorised in any way possible, to define what we are, to define the nature in which we live our lives. Intelligent, stupid, idiotic, psychotic, overweight, anorexic, male, female.
Even writing this sounds like a desperate plea for attention, and all from people who I’ve never met? Surely that seems desperate, but this is an action and every action has a reaction, which is why we’re so anxious for others to read or topics. That’s the reaction of the action you’ve created. For people to take notice and understand, what perhaps you’re unable to explain, even with words.
So, who am I? Life. Filled with opportunities and chances. Chances to choose for yourself. Chances you take which lead you to the road of glory, for acceptance lies just around the corner of opportunity, but first you have to find that road.
Page: