Teen angst,sarcasm retold part I

I don’t even know where to begin.. I have absolutely no idea what I mean to write or even why and it’s all nonsense that scatters through my overloaded brain like pieces of crusted, filthy, sharp glass. Overall, I’m a highly frustrated, bored beyond repair and completely chaotic teenager that has existential issues which even her own creative mind cannot comprehend.

It’s all rather personal, all the systematic bullshit I always keep to myself, but it’s somewhat my way of letting it out, I’m sort of a composer, only in writing.. I compose words from the meaningless letters they give me, sentences from the senseless words they invent.. They gave me the necessary means to define myself, my own world, my all. So, in the end, is all of this still mine? Is it truly me in here, or is it just them? I mean, an idea is something personal, right? But is there such thing as ideas of many people gathered up into one? A collective idea? OR is it just a man’s thought that has been spread around to others like a deadly plague? People do not share an idea, a goal, the whole bohemian blah blah they glorified so much is actually a lie. And when a man ‘shares’ his idea, it’s called as a ‘doctrine’.

Lost my trail of thoughts..

Moving on, moving on, but where to? No idea yet again..

How about dissapointment? Casual? Casual. Everybody does that at some point, or in other cases, in numerous points in life.. It’s all over the place if you ask me, it flows around in the air like a molded, repulsive stench, it’s beyond getting rid of, indeed, but they play a pretty good role in covering it up, kind of like pouring perfume on a dead rodent, it really does no good.

As much as I love writing the complex and abiguous lines I usually do, I couldn’t help but notice that the complicated words coming out of my everlasting tormented soul turned viciously into pure, hateful, annoyed sarcasm. Hello, old friend..

My thoughts and alongside, my moods, tend to shapeshift rapidly into one another. Multiple skins, so little control over them.

Where were we? Oh yes, dead rats. Fascinating subject, I must say. Well, my point is, everybody dissapoints and everybody gets dissapointed. No way around that. Well, can’t get dissapointed if you’re hopeless, right? I’m guessing that if you don’t get your hopes up, you have no expectations, thus you don’t get dissapointed. Problem solved, never hope for anything, live in a small cardboard box, all good.

What about quantity? I don’t mean potatoes, but how much is in fact ‘enough’? If you ask me, it’s never enough. Can’t please anyone ever, not even yourself. At least I can’t. It’s all madness, trying to be somewhat satisfying, to be ‘enough’.. Enough knows no boundries, no boarder, no limits. Its inexistent meaning is unsatisfactory and my guess is that they invented the word ‘enough’ to fill a gap in their miserable, empty lives in which existential questions and self-knowing uncertainties take over control and force them to find related answers that can mask their actual lack of knowledge.

“Enough is enough.” – This is the leading saying in their pathetic lives. So, ‘enough’ is actually defined by itslef, it’s self-definig. Great job they did, it denotes pure intelligence, can’t argue with that.

Blank page, my brain erased its own content. It’s rather shit.