but I am not real
who am I
I don’t know but I can’t wait to find out
Where I am going in this world isn’t the question
rather why does it take so long
and is it worth it?
I can’t understand why the people in this place don’t realize they’re being robbed
we should just leave
they can’t stop all of us
the only rebellion is the one within us
I need to do better
I am getting these words out
so they don’t stay in my system another moment.
time to be happy otherwise I cannot live
smiling is as important as breathing
and I have been holding my breathes for as long as the Earth has been rotating.
I am better than this
these words I write are nonsensical but at least I wrote them
I can’t google them, I can’t plagiarize.
It’s me. So fuck how it sounds
fuck how it looks
fuck what it says.
It’s mine and that’s all that matters.
Inspiration chose a weird time to strike me
I can’t understand, I only take note of what I see
and maybe I don’t get it all maybe I don’t understand most
but if I fall I do it headfirst
And I can’t ask for anything more, for diving into a pool of piranhas is just as deadly as being pushed but I DID IT. So fuck it.
It doesn’t matter the action
It doesn’t matter the context.
I did something and it’s mine. These words exist so long as I exist and I exist so long as these words exist and the circularity of life is realized. That we live so long as there is something that is ours to place somewhere and analyze.
And somewhere along the way I fell in love, with another, with the world, definitely not with myself. Maybe it was music, or food, or books. But I fell in love and let me tell you.
Books may cut you but they also make you smarter.
Food in excess can and will make you fat, but it keeps you going.
Music can be harsh and unrelenting but it does so that you may understand it and maybe even like it.
We’ve imparted humanity in things that have no real right being human. These things make us human.
Maybe I fall in love too easily.
Maybe I eat too much.
I read until my eyes fall out and I listen till my eardrums are powder
But it’s just who I am. It’s human to do these things, and even more human to realize it.
And when it comes down to it, it’s all pain.
All this comes from pain. But taking pain and turning it into beauty is art. Pain makes art, so thank you to the person who caused this. Thank you to the person who held a grudge cause I was an idiot. Thank you to my parents. Thank you to everyone who called me a fatass or a loser or a fucking faggot or all 3 in one succinct sentence.
Thank you to the teacher who told me I was wasting my potential, or the teacher who said I didn’t have potential. Thank you for the heartbreak, and the death, and the meaningless sex, and the meaningful sex, and the ruined friendships, and the salvaged friendships. With these and endless other kinds of pain.
I made this.
I made this and you. can’t. have. it.
You took so much from me
But I made this and you can’t have it.
I made this. What have YOU made recently?