Desire for chaos.

Sleeping children weaving dreams of honeysuckle and games of chase through the small world that they call home. "Come play with us," shouts a little, blond girl with more authority than she cares to question. "I won't play your little game, but I know a better one," I say with an urge at curiosity and a wan smile. That's it. Yes. I've got them. I see their faces light up as if the city behind me has suddenly gone to flames, reflected in their eyes, and that's what I intend to do..

Put me back gently, just where you found me.

I was born in the wrong century.

I can't take anything seriously.

I watch people sitting motionless behind the wheel of a car, bidding it to do their will - accelerate, brake, turn, follow a car obnoxiously close.. I have to laugh at it because the image and very nature of it seems so stupid. We've got this brilliant structure called a human body and legs that were created specifically to take us places, yet the average person spends most of their time not using them! Is that painful to anyone else? It makes me sick. Not necessarily the laziness, carelessness or so on but the sheer fact that they don't care! Do your body good. Care for the one thing that you own that will do you anything meaningful.

I wish I could be just like them, able to feed the bullshit and triumph from the game. All of these silly, mundane, almost pathetic social interactions like textbook that we keep ourselves tied to. I'm so sick of it all.

It has been raining for seven months.. Any means to an end is starting rear it's lovely head, while batting those long lashes and seducing me with a sideways stare. Oh, come here my lovely! - Anything to numb the pain, to stop the gray and to make it all go away!

A door opens in the molecules of oxygen before me. An apparition, perhaps? A way out, hopefully? A painful death, possibly? I'm through that door without a single glance behind me..

I just hope there is..

My last two posts sound so angst-ridden. I apologize, I guess.
Sometimes I just don't see the point of anything.
I feel as if I've tripped and have stumbled off the path that is 'normal'.
I can't put up with the bullshit.
I need to isolate myself.
I can't laugh at your meaningless joke.

I'm turning to my creative side to help aid me through this misery.
Photo projects to come - after I find a new place to live.

In truth, I hate that I was ever born..

Life should be lived for all of the momentary tastes of happiness.
Fuck your money.
Fuck your career.
Fuck your material possessions.
Taste the earth - dance, dance - make music and smile.
Befriend the child in you and grow old together.
Drink wine and be merry.

Seriously.

Fuck you, the one who tells me to stay in line and how to live.
Humans were never meant to be so disconnected.
The modern world, I hate you so-very fucking much.