I spend most of my waking moments filling up the quiet with just about anything. Walk into my room at any given moment, and you’ll find me in my room on my laptop, with mp3s on shuffle and the TV on.
But when everything goes off, you can find me in my bed, staring through the ceiling, past the dry wall and plaster into the endless night sky, tracing my thoughts in the atmosphere.
With no real purpose.
It’s like, once the white noise is gone, the flood gates open, and the cumulative experience of my years come rushing to the forefront. Every major decision, minor little details about a person’s odd habit of leaning a little too close when he spoke that day, the burning sound when I inhaled smoke from a capone, it’s all there, along with a dozen little voices, dissecting each thought and idea.
I like it sometimes. I make some of my best judgments in the brief, yet eternal moments before slumber takes me. In a sense, it’s almost as if I rediscover myself every night.
I also hate it. I’m reminded of everything that hurts, like my subconscious mind is picking at a scab absently, constantly exposing the raw flesh underneath, recreating wounds that take that much longer to heal.
One of the only common denominators between the girls that I’ve ever expressed interest in is that they all had REALLY pretty eyes. And not even like they had particularly exoticly colored ones either. Just regular deep brown eyes. I feel like it’s one of the low key weirdest turn-ons ever. What the fuck am I gonna do with somebody’s eyes??
Which… apparently, was not a good idea. Because it’s potent with a lot of the things I’ve been feeling for the past year, and it’s making me want to start releasing all of these posts I’ve got in my drafts.
But I don’t feel like opening that chapter back up yet.
Maybe next year, when I’m feeling a little more distant.
I think you guys are going about it the wrong way. Bashing men, getting offended by any little thing, that’s not it. Yes, it’s about women EMPOWERMENT, but we’re ALL equal. Everyone’s shit stinks. I know you all have the right intentions, but it’s coming out wrong. Build women up, but don’t put…
A teen-erized epic version of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.. Or not..Ramona really parallels that chick who Jim Carrey liked. And both movies have really wierd-ish scenes that don’t get explained at all but add something really nice to each film respectively. Only thing is Jim Carrey’s…
More of the un-explained stuff is explained in the comics. Would’ve taken too long to explain in the movie, though.