ButrosButros_Grantos
Bluelighter
Italicised sections are from The Offspring --- Amazed
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Tell more with less, okay my pupils are dilated.
What does that tell? What does that imply, huh? I’ve got an idea, why bother with all these metaphors and similes? Innuendos and double-meanings; what’s the point? How about any meaning? For once stop trying to be clever and just be… Screw correct prose, proper grammar, to hell with all of it. I’m just going to tell it exactly how it is. How original.
Where to start though? Whoops first mistake, can’t ask myself questions, but then again, maybe that’s the problem in the first place. Fuck the rules and guideline, how did this start? Oh now it’s clear, that’s easy to answer. It started with oblivion; no wait, isn’t that how things end? Not when that is all you are looking for. Why? Okay little harder to answer, not that I don’t know, just harder to say, to express.
Oblivion: n. having or being forgotten; disregarded, unregarded state.
Forgotten? I wish I could, erase the memories both good and bad. Make the pain stop, cease to exist. Because how long can you do it for, carrying them around with you? Continuing to live with these ghosts of the past. Never quiet. But we learn from our mistakes, right? Wrong, we are doomed to repeat them.
My pupils are dilated.
Repetition… It’s supposed to make it stay in your head, make you keep thinking of the desired image. Sorry, I don’t mean to do it but it’s all I can concentrate on now, little things like that. Thinking about little things seems much more important to me than the bigger picture. Like I can care? Even if I could. Bigger picture? That’s somebody else’s problem, somebody who’s managed to sort out problems of their own first. People, who have time for more than themselves, people who have time to care. And like I already said, I don’t, care that is, I have more than enough time.
My pupils are
I got sidetracked, not surprising, and not intentional. You have to forgive; well I’ll ask you to anyway. Sometimes you can start a conversation with someone and get sidetracked, only to go back to it later, from where you left off. What’s surprising is both parties remember the previous conversation and no reminding is required.
I was asking questions. Exactly what does oblivion feel like anyway? I may have reached my goal already for all I know. Weekdays are oblivion, weekends are aiding in my task. I feel both heavy and light at the same time. The numbness is both gift and curse. It robs me of any feelings of sorrow, of regret but at the same time ensures that I won’t get over them anytime soon, that although they don’t hurt I will dwell upon them because I can. No other reason.
Sometimes I think that I will drown, cause everyone around is hollow.
And I’m alone.
I hate myself. Not as much as I hate the world and most things about it, no not yet. If I ever hate myself more than that then I would, actually don’t worry. Scrap that, mentioning it would make it cliché wouldn’t it? And that, we want to make sure we avoid more than anything else. That’s another problem, cliché; I wish my life was that. At least then I wouldn’t be stuck in something that no one can help me with. Doomed to spend Sunday night’s listening to The Offspring. Alone.
Sometimes I think that I’m going down, but no one make a sound, they follow. And I’m alone.
dilated.
Admitting that I have a problem doesn’t make it any better, even if they do say that is the first step. I would rather be ignorant, not aware that I even have a problem. Then maybe, just perhaps I wouldn’t be looking for a solution that isn’t there, or that is there and I just can’t find. I’m not sure what would be worse, me being a failure or the universe. And there’s no one else that I can point my finger at, point blame at. No anything that I shift responsibility to would be directly associated with myself, therefore by shifting blame onto it would be just blaming a specific point in my life, not the whole thing.
Well if I make it I’d be amazed, just to find tomorrow.
This page has started to blur, that’s good right? It means that it’s working. It’s bad; it means that it’s working. I’m sick of weekdays, feeling light headed and heavy handed, and sick of waiting for the weekend. I’m sick of waiting for it to end. I try to remember what life was like before, what I used to do on weekends back then. I can’t remember, it’s faded away, maybe that’s for the rest it’s not like I’m going to hurry back to that anytime soon.
Yeah one more day and I’d be amazed, just to see it waiting.
Maybe I’m making a mistake, heading out with this mask on every weekend. It is a masquerade, life that is. Well my life is. Except there is no unveiling at midnight, most of the time we haven’t even left home by midnight. My pupils. There is no truth to be found, no solace in other people, as they are strangers and stay strangers to both themselves and me. It makes it all easier to pretend to be something you’re not. Any hurt suffered, any sorrow found, it’s not happening to you but some fictional character, a figment of your imagination. Your masked self takes all of it, but one thing it doesn’t take is the fall.
Yeah if I make it, I’m still alone, no more hope for better days.
You don’t think about the fall either, well, not until it happens. You don’t care because you think there are people to care for you. Or should be. What you haven’t worked out yet is that once you lose hope in yourself people around you tend to do the same, and you still don’t care, at least that’s what you tell yourself. are dilated. I don’t think I’ve gotten to that stage yet, at least I pray that I haven’t. I’ve managed to maintain their hope with an avalanche of lies. Now that makes me feel better, sure it does.
Yeah if I could change then I’d really be amazed.
Pupils. So oblivion. Dilated.
I have a chance of earning the oblivion I so desire, but there’s something holding me back. As empty as I feel, there’s still the one thing lingering within. Guilt. About feeling that I should care that I am going to hurt people who love me and that… it’s the heaviest burden of all. And when I feel guilty enough, sometimes I feel that I can change, that this isn’t all that life’s meant to be. Something can be done about it, maybe?
I’m dialled. Speaking nonsense. Change? It’s possible, if I put my mind to it. The problem is I’ve been putting too many things to my mind. I’m not interested in changing, I have no problem with the way I lead my life, really, I don’t, and there goes some of the guilt. My pupils are. Convince myself, then maybe others around me will be convinced, the easiest person to lie to is myself, the problem is that the hardest person to get to believe that lie is the same. It doesn’t matter…
It really doesn’t…
I’ve found what I was looking for; I’ve reached what I wanted…
Oblivion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tell more with less, okay my pupils are dilated.
What does that tell? What does that imply, huh? I’ve got an idea, why bother with all these metaphors and similes? Innuendos and double-meanings; what’s the point? How about any meaning? For once stop trying to be clever and just be… Screw correct prose, proper grammar, to hell with all of it. I’m just going to tell it exactly how it is. How original.
Where to start though? Whoops first mistake, can’t ask myself questions, but then again, maybe that’s the problem in the first place. Fuck the rules and guideline, how did this start? Oh now it’s clear, that’s easy to answer. It started with oblivion; no wait, isn’t that how things end? Not when that is all you are looking for. Why? Okay little harder to answer, not that I don’t know, just harder to say, to express.
Oblivion: n. having or being forgotten; disregarded, unregarded state.
Forgotten? I wish I could, erase the memories both good and bad. Make the pain stop, cease to exist. Because how long can you do it for, carrying them around with you? Continuing to live with these ghosts of the past. Never quiet. But we learn from our mistakes, right? Wrong, we are doomed to repeat them.
My pupils are dilated.
Repetition… It’s supposed to make it stay in your head, make you keep thinking of the desired image. Sorry, I don’t mean to do it but it’s all I can concentrate on now, little things like that. Thinking about little things seems much more important to me than the bigger picture. Like I can care? Even if I could. Bigger picture? That’s somebody else’s problem, somebody who’s managed to sort out problems of their own first. People, who have time for more than themselves, people who have time to care. And like I already said, I don’t, care that is, I have more than enough time.
My pupils are
I got sidetracked, not surprising, and not intentional. You have to forgive; well I’ll ask you to anyway. Sometimes you can start a conversation with someone and get sidetracked, only to go back to it later, from where you left off. What’s surprising is both parties remember the previous conversation and no reminding is required.
I was asking questions. Exactly what does oblivion feel like anyway? I may have reached my goal already for all I know. Weekdays are oblivion, weekends are aiding in my task. I feel both heavy and light at the same time. The numbness is both gift and curse. It robs me of any feelings of sorrow, of regret but at the same time ensures that I won’t get over them anytime soon, that although they don’t hurt I will dwell upon them because I can. No other reason.
Sometimes I think that I will drown, cause everyone around is hollow.
And I’m alone.
I hate myself. Not as much as I hate the world and most things about it, no not yet. If I ever hate myself more than that then I would, actually don’t worry. Scrap that, mentioning it would make it cliché wouldn’t it? And that, we want to make sure we avoid more than anything else. That’s another problem, cliché; I wish my life was that. At least then I wouldn’t be stuck in something that no one can help me with. Doomed to spend Sunday night’s listening to The Offspring. Alone.
Sometimes I think that I’m going down, but no one make a sound, they follow. And I’m alone.
dilated.
Admitting that I have a problem doesn’t make it any better, even if they do say that is the first step. I would rather be ignorant, not aware that I even have a problem. Then maybe, just perhaps I wouldn’t be looking for a solution that isn’t there, or that is there and I just can’t find. I’m not sure what would be worse, me being a failure or the universe. And there’s no one else that I can point my finger at, point blame at. No anything that I shift responsibility to would be directly associated with myself, therefore by shifting blame onto it would be just blaming a specific point in my life, not the whole thing.
Well if I make it I’d be amazed, just to find tomorrow.
This page has started to blur, that’s good right? It means that it’s working. It’s bad; it means that it’s working. I’m sick of weekdays, feeling light headed and heavy handed, and sick of waiting for the weekend. I’m sick of waiting for it to end. I try to remember what life was like before, what I used to do on weekends back then. I can’t remember, it’s faded away, maybe that’s for the rest it’s not like I’m going to hurry back to that anytime soon.
Yeah one more day and I’d be amazed, just to see it waiting.
Maybe I’m making a mistake, heading out with this mask on every weekend. It is a masquerade, life that is. Well my life is. Except there is no unveiling at midnight, most of the time we haven’t even left home by midnight. My pupils. There is no truth to be found, no solace in other people, as they are strangers and stay strangers to both themselves and me. It makes it all easier to pretend to be something you’re not. Any hurt suffered, any sorrow found, it’s not happening to you but some fictional character, a figment of your imagination. Your masked self takes all of it, but one thing it doesn’t take is the fall.
Yeah if I make it, I’m still alone, no more hope for better days.
You don’t think about the fall either, well, not until it happens. You don’t care because you think there are people to care for you. Or should be. What you haven’t worked out yet is that once you lose hope in yourself people around you tend to do the same, and you still don’t care, at least that’s what you tell yourself. are dilated. I don’t think I’ve gotten to that stage yet, at least I pray that I haven’t. I’ve managed to maintain their hope with an avalanche of lies. Now that makes me feel better, sure it does.
Yeah if I could change then I’d really be amazed.
Pupils. So oblivion. Dilated.
I have a chance of earning the oblivion I so desire, but there’s something holding me back. As empty as I feel, there’s still the one thing lingering within. Guilt. About feeling that I should care that I am going to hurt people who love me and that… it’s the heaviest burden of all. And when I feel guilty enough, sometimes I feel that I can change, that this isn’t all that life’s meant to be. Something can be done about it, maybe?
I’m dialled. Speaking nonsense. Change? It’s possible, if I put my mind to it. The problem is I’ve been putting too many things to my mind. I’m not interested in changing, I have no problem with the way I lead my life, really, I don’t, and there goes some of the guilt. My pupils are. Convince myself, then maybe others around me will be convinced, the easiest person to lie to is myself, the problem is that the hardest person to get to believe that lie is the same. It doesn’t matter…
It really doesn’t…
I’ve found what I was looking for; I’ve reached what I wanted…
Oblivion
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and youre still talented