2004-09-20 - 2:12 p.m.
Interaction isn't a strong point. Writhe in agony as the words come choking out of your throat, exactly the way you never wanted them to - coarse, broken, and thick with anxiety. Can you tell I didn't want to talk to you? It's not you; it's me. I swear. It's a CD skipping, the same adrenaline rush every time you need to get up the courage to speak. Your voice rushes out, barely audible, just letting the onslaught of thoughts out as quickly as possible so you don't lose your nerve. You hate your voice. It sounds wrong. It's not what you hear in your head. It's weak, and you sound like you're about to cry. Are you? Perhaps, but that's aside from the point. You try not to worry that you sound stupid, no matter how good your ideas are. You can't voice them correctly and it's torture every time.
Crap. My computer's making beep noises. Can't be a good sign, eh?
Here's another ringer to add to your arsenal: I hate people who reword and repeat everything I've just said, and take it as their own. I'm not that smart, but apparently you're less so. Get a clue. Some of my thoughts aren't original (how can they be? that's like trying to write an atonal song. it can be done, but it's a rarity), but I can also think for myself. Be a hypocrite. I am. Just maybe, for once, admit to yourself that you conform b/c you think other people will think it's cool. You only do things for the perception of others but here's your ammo: I think you're just another loser.
"This situation keeps getting worse and a movement is made from a fucking trend. It looks and smells and sounds like shit. This punishment will never end. It won't fucking end." - Holding On, "Invasion of the Assholes"
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