Why doesn't it rain. Would it it be so bad to cool off in the ecstacy of a summer sprinkle. I would love to just sit outside in the rain and feel my rage wash away with the cool, crisp, compassionate droplets of the world's tears. Sometimes, like now, I just write with little to write about, so I am practicing because I want to write stuff someday and get recognized for my absolute genius and my corrupt sensitivity. Why do I talk, everything comes out wrong, but it sounds good and it also sounds like I know what I am talking about. I can't write enough about how much I want to write about subjects that take a person and submerges them into a magical realm of disbelief and contemplation. Would it be wrong to say that most things I have witnessed come nowhere near to the darkness that I will someday share with the masses of animals reading my novels of love and death, decay and rebirth. I might as well toss in some taboo subjects too because everyone loves reading about the death of small baby rabbits while chewing on bubblegum and mowing the lawn and running over the mother with the blades of chop, chop, chop. Maybe I am just disturbed, which is like the most lovely word in my world.
I don't invite enough people in to my world, I think they would be afraid. I have met maybe one or two kindred souls, but then again, their worlds are scary and fascinating to me at the same time my own world is scary and fascinating to me. Perhaps just writing down my thoughts and proclivities will somehow make me more sane in this screwed up world. People die every day, I don't see days upon days of broadcasting over them, but one one stupid rich person dies, its the end of the world because he did so much for society and made the world a better place and blah blah blah. Get over it. Sure, he did those things, honor him and move on. Don't linger on it. Move on. Just probably jealous because the way people remember him is the way that I want to be remembered, but I keep having these proclivities that I won't be remembered, I won't even get an honorable mention at my own funeral. Pity, it fills me up and self-doubt, but without them, one cannot enjoy the fruits of one's own labor. It makes sense that I should move on also and make something of myself and that should go for all the people in the world. Move on. Just keep going because you never know when the best thing in your life is right around the next corner. Keep going and move on. Don't give up, that is the weakest thing I have ever thought. Sure, suicide is a thought, don't be consumed by it. It isn't the answer. Look forward to better things. I know I use to laugh at sappy crap like this when I was younger, but I will tell you the truth. Positive thoughts bring positive rewards. I just started one day saying to myself in the mirror that I am the best looking guy in the world. Now I am the best looking guy in the world. I have no self-doubt left. That's not saying I know everything, but if I don't know something, I say I don't know something. Its not the end of the world. Big deal if I don't know this one little thing; the fact that your asking me about it means that the answer is someplace out there in the world, maybe on the web or in my dad's brain. Its a phone call away. So maybe you aren't that bad looking after all. Just believe in yourself and move on. I promise, good things will come and you will start believing just to believe in something because you have to believe in something even if it is "nothing" you believe in. Nothing is still something, yep, that is the line that I keep catching crap on. How can nothing be something. Nothing, its just a word, but that word has a meaning. Nothing could be thought of as the absense of something or of everything, but if you say you believe in everything, then you can say you believe in something. So if nothing is the absense of something than that too is something. So, you have to believe in something, which just might as well be yourself.
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