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"Impulse"



"However, it's rather amusing as to how an individual stricken with fear changes his outlook on the aspects of what he's done. Ah, but everyone feels secure in their own contentment. So carefree to enjoyment, unsuspecting life creeping up on them. Alas, should my expectations include they should even BEGIN to understand? Foolish child, my melancholic lifestyle makes yours pale in comparison. Am I bragging? Hardly...
Do not compare me to a mentally ill (person). I'm just a misunderstood adolescent individual. But the mind is a fickle tool which creates the words that roll off thy tongue. But it all comes back to impulse. The impulse to maim and mangle the petty idiot that insists on making you the end to the joke. The impulse to scream in frustration because no one WANTS to understand. The impulse that you are reduced to writing and pouring out your emotions on paper. But no... You can't act out on impulse. No, no... Of course not, for that would be WRONG... And the fundamentals of impulse one could only wish for. Oh, but here we are again, with wishing... As I dig my way deeper into the darkest recesses of my mind, I seem to understand myself a bit more...

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"Life, Love, Loathe and Loss."


There was a time in my early high school years where I was in a deep depression, and I felt the undeniable urge to write what I felt, explain the thoughts screaming in my mind, lurking in the corners. Of course, I eventually broke out of that state, and still am in possession of "the papers". I added a new entry page just the other day for fun, but for now, lets start this off from page 1...


"Funny as to why I would bother writing such useless scrawlings. Almost as if it's on impulse... The situation at hand is mediocre at best, however with the usual snide remarks from others...me? An outcast, a misfit of THEM? Perhaps I've chosen to be isolated from them, but shouldn't you be content on wondering what agitated once content recesses of my mind? Fools! You could never comprehend the rejection i feel, whilst THEY carry on with their useless, short lives. But I suppose it is the will of emotions, some more than others, to act soully on..."Impulse"...
The depth of me isn't purely sight, more sight of MIND. Maybe I just want to be heard, and close to understanding the dark void i feel inside. What I wouldn't give to, for a moment, only to be engulfed in wild imagination, and not to open my eyes and stare at the dull faces. Love, hate, it's all the same! Lies! You don't understand, only wish to! But... Where does wishing get you then?
To be carefree...What of me, never touched by another human being, as to them being filled with false love and lies. As you slip past, you receive the faint tittering and insults from THEM, who should never learn my inner self. But fear can play a powerful role, you know... Like a festering wound, the anger and pain from played-out emotions fuel the hate inside."

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