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What are you?
10 years ago
This was a mess too
What makes a person a person? Is a person the sum of their actions or intentions? Does the mere question of your existence, the thought process itself, make you real? Maybe you're only a shell running on the fumes of ambition, attempting to fulfill your dreams. What is your life but a compilation of memories and future possibilities? I can't say that I know what makes a person real. I can't say I've made this journal to question reality either. I'm not a philosopher. Plus, it's just a little bit irrelevant when you feel a particular lack of purpose.
I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately is all. Well, maybe thinking is less accurate of a depiction of what I mean. I guess I've been daydreaming a lot. More and more often, I find myself drifting off into some other scenario. A potential scenario, a past scenario, or however it comes. I've been imagining other iterations of myself, fleshing out their worlds through their eyes. I don't really mean to do it, but I end up creating various realities in my head, and it's getting a bit cumbersome to be honest. It makes me wonder though, if it isn't impossible for those iterations to be reality in some other plane of existence. Not that the idea of multiple realities is particularly original or anything, but it makes me think. I don't know if I want to think on it too much though. I might start sympathizing with them. Either way, I'm gonna stop writing. I was supposed to tie all this together somehow through the power of creative writing, but I don't really feel like it. So, I guess I'm out. Peace. Love. I dunno. Have a good whatever time of the day and rest of your time. Most of it anyway. Realistically, your gonna have some suckish days in the days to come, but what can a guy or gal do but dream, hope, and move on?
Sorry for making you read that. I don't seem to have accurately depicted my predicament or made much of a point. You read it though. Maybe you've got nothing better to do right now. Have a song. Maybe it'll help tic away at that hourglass. Robots. Let's do it.
Nuts and bolts and Iron coats, it is what I dream.
Steel and rust, its all a must. Eyes like laser beams.
Cause the earth is flooding and doom is budding fast.
If the world is dying, then I am trying, to get there last.
Circuits sprockets gears and steam, they think Im insane.
When the library burned to the ground, I replaced my brain
with a kindle cause I like the hunger games.
And replaced my skin with glass and tin for when the worlds in flames.
Nuts and bolts and Iron coats, this is what I see.
Cut the life I used to live, make a better me.
Scoop the eyeballs out my skull, finally I see.
Plastic is the way to go, no more atrophy.
When your all dying, I'll be flying past.
On the rocket boots I made to escape the nuclear blast.
Nuts and bolts and Iron coats, this is what I see.
Cut the life I used to live, make a better me.
Finally I'm perfect, and I see.
That the people I share this world with are worse than me.
Nuclear launch codes ignite, countdown three two one.
We'll see how the ugly ones like 50 megatons.
I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately is all. Well, maybe thinking is less accurate of a depiction of what I mean. I guess I've been daydreaming a lot. More and more often, I find myself drifting off into some other scenario. A potential scenario, a past scenario, or however it comes. I've been imagining other iterations of myself, fleshing out their worlds through their eyes. I don't really mean to do it, but I end up creating various realities in my head, and it's getting a bit cumbersome to be honest. It makes me wonder though, if it isn't impossible for those iterations to be reality in some other plane of existence. Not that the idea of multiple realities is particularly original or anything, but it makes me think. I don't know if I want to think on it too much though. I might start sympathizing with them. Either way, I'm gonna stop writing. I was supposed to tie all this together somehow through the power of creative writing, but I don't really feel like it. So, I guess I'm out. Peace. Love. I dunno. Have a good whatever time of the day and rest of your time. Most of it anyway. Realistically, your gonna have some suckish days in the days to come, but what can a guy or gal do but dream, hope, and move on?
Sorry for making you read that. I don't seem to have accurately depicted my predicament or made much of a point. You read it though. Maybe you've got nothing better to do right now. Have a song. Maybe it'll help tic away at that hourglass. Robots. Let's do it.
Nuts and bolts and Iron coats, it is what I dream.
Steel and rust, its all a must. Eyes like laser beams.
Cause the earth is flooding and doom is budding fast.
If the world is dying, then I am trying, to get there last.
Circuits sprockets gears and steam, they think Im insane.
When the library burned to the ground, I replaced my brain
with a kindle cause I like the hunger games.
And replaced my skin with glass and tin for when the worlds in flames.
Nuts and bolts and Iron coats, this is what I see.
Cut the life I used to live, make a better me.
Scoop the eyeballs out my skull, finally I see.
Plastic is the way to go, no more atrophy.
When your all dying, I'll be flying past.
On the rocket boots I made to escape the nuclear blast.
Nuts and bolts and Iron coats, this is what I see.
Cut the life I used to live, make a better me.
Finally I'm perfect, and I see.
That the people I share this world with are worse than me.
Nuclear launch codes ignite, countdown three two one.
We'll see how the ugly ones like 50 megatons.
If you´re aware something exists, then you can be sure it exists. Be it in your mind, or in another universe, it does nevertheless.
How are things, by the way?
Not much to say aside of "I finished it **** YEAHH!"
As long as you keep living in America that is...