What is life without having an alternate world?
A secret mental land?
A powerful perception?
An internal ego?
A private persona?
An inside personality?
A complex identity?
The real you,vs the you that others perceive..hmm?
Youre a character.
I'm a character.
Internally,we are who we are.
Externally,we are who we are.
Period.
Points of views,points of views is what they are.What the world is made of.
Perception,and perspectives.
Internally,We get certain ideas of who we are.
We assume we know ourselves better than anyone else does,
but often times I find myself comparing my own thoughts of who I am
to the information others seem to of gathered of who they think I am..
scrambled words,mixed letters
unorganized,messy,distraught,wild,infinate.
Allover the place.
Sweet and sour stench.A brain fuck.Two at a time.
Internally, I am who I am.
I'm yet to (never) know who I am,
yet I know plenty of myself at the same time.
We can never understand ourselves,completely.
The strive is over,when we're dead.
A sleeping destination.
Thats when you've completed this ...'self research'.
Because,Lets fact it,Theres too much information within to comprehend.
No need to figure this out,let it be..
but i cant help but feel so uncomfortable as I see my own face
reflect from within the pupils of others.
how do you see me?
If I told you who I was,would you even believe me?
would you doubt?
would you laugh?
would you turn away,because you didnt "think" of me that way..
or you just had no idea at all,because of how shy I seem to be?
To look at something..and then suddenly feel ..so ..much.
When I say "feel", I mean,the cognition is extreme and so immense..Mindblowing.breathtaking.Captivating,Stalling.
It effects us all not only mentally,but physically.
It tells us what to do,It plays a huge part on how we feel.
Cognition,connection- to environment.
Cognition,connection- to..clinical dysfunction/biological behavior?
I look at everything,random things,things everywhere.
in the house,outside,in supermarkets,in the bus,on the street..
stop signs,
black top gravel,
the colors inside a book store,
of everything from the different colored spines of the books,and the shapes,the sizes.
the endless,overwhelming text
the bold,the italic..the large,catchy title and
the tiny,aligned overall print of every chapter.
the smell of candles,coffee.
The way that checkout clerk looked at me.
the sound of cars honking,and trunks slamming.
and they all make me...feel.
they touch me..
they play with my hair
and brush against my bare stomach..
lifting my blouse,and kissing my neck.
Do you see?
Can you feel it too?
Dont you see,
the cognition is fucking me.
mm,and its good.
And its private.
yet... people around me,think that its public.
think that they have the right,to get inside of my head.
to judge,to know
to...understand?
I love its hands..
and its wrong..so wrong for you to want to stand and watch,
...but its right at the same time.
Its so beautiful
I may be looking at something,but you dont know how it feels to me,on the inside.
Underneath my flesh,in the slime and the blood.
against the walls of meat,bouncing upon the DNA streams.
Zapping through sudden flickers of electrochemical brain waves
I may be staring at a teapot,my head may turn,my head may stay still..
I may have this particularly peculiar look on my face,
but my thoughts very well be the total opposite.
If I grin,I may really feel sullen
If I frown,I may be actually content
If I whine,I may not be whining out of pain at all,
but of pleasure..or desire.
to you,i may be a sort of girl.
some sort of girl.
some specific type of girl.
a bitch?
a sweetheart.
a slut.
an innocent.
an honest person,
a liar?
but that doesnt mean that I really am of those things..
because,again..
its perception and perspectives.
Your boyfriend may be Prince romeo to you,
but he may be the most disgustly,vile cad to his ex girlfriend.
Strawberry jam on toast may taste so delcious to you,
but it may taste like a Styrofoam box to your friend.
That small place in the city,may be such a ruckus,
such a burden,a stress, an urban cram to your neighbor.
but It may be the most enjoyable,amusing,interesting place youve ever lived.
If youre my mother,I may be your daughter.
Your stomach would turn at the thought of a mans hands allover me
If youre my brother,I may be your sister,youve never seen a really serious side of me
If youre my teacher,I am your student
We cant talk about masturbation,or how I cant stand organized religion.
but I am me..
in so many different layers.
I am layers.
I am sections.
I am parts,and pieces.
I am fragments and particals
I am everything.
I am a character.
I'm in a movie
the most significant movie of all
this movie: Life.
I'm in a tv show
i'm on a runway
im in a book
im in a painting
A theater
Dramatics
Hysterics
Plots
situations
Conflicts
uprising
resolutions
music,music
costume!
DESIGN.
the best art: Life.
I've been a written girl,
Described facial features
A creative role
Someone made me,
but I made myself.
We both made me.
because,its all about
perception and perspectives.
A strict screen play script
"dont mess up"they say
Do i fall?
I like to fall.
I'm dangerous
I have these...little drugs..
Drugs?
but are they drugs?
I think they are.
Theres my love,as a posion,he is.
my restraints,My punishment. My masochism,and then there are actual pills.
mm..?
And cigarettes.
And wanting to kiss,
And running away.
And being thin.
And Wanting to die,
and drinking apple juice.
And bruises on my body,
and heart shaped sunglasses.
And being rejected,and being hurt.
dirt on my hands,but perfect hair.
red nail polish,and pretty lips.
runny liner,but soft,bare,clean little knees..
watch me.
This world,really is a play.
Its a film.
Watch me.
Feel me.
Let me touch you,brush against you
Let me inside your head,and kiss your thoughts
my actions,
my dysfunctional life
my faults,
my flaws
I'm not special,really.
Yet I completely am.
theres a character in you,too.
Just find it.Embrace it.
I'm a girl you're yet to know.
I'm a girl you may read about,
or maybe not.
I'm a character.
Indirect and direct characterization
your perception
as you read...these..
sentences..
your thoughts of me..
the sensations..
the ideal,and the strange.
who am I...
to you?
A secret mental land?
A powerful perception?
An internal ego?
A private persona?
An inside personality?
A complex identity?
The real you,vs the you that others perceive..hmm?
Youre a character.
I'm a character.
Internally,we are who we are.
Externally,we are who we are.
Period.
Points of views,points of views is what they are.What the world is made of.
Perception,and perspectives.
Internally,We get certain ideas of who we are.
We assume we know ourselves better than anyone else does,
but often times I find myself comparing my own thoughts of who I am
to the information others seem to of gathered of who they think I am..
scrambled words,mixed letters
unorganized,messy,distraught,wild,infinate.
Allover the place.
Sweet and sour stench.A brain fuck.Two at a time.
Internally, I am who I am.
I'm yet to (never) know who I am,
yet I know plenty of myself at the same time.
We can never understand ourselves,completely.
The strive is over,when we're dead.
A sleeping destination.
Thats when you've completed this ...'self research'.
Because,Lets fact it,Theres too much information within to comprehend.
No need to figure this out,let it be..
but i cant help but feel so uncomfortable as I see my own face
reflect from within the pupils of others.
how do you see me?
If I told you who I was,would you even believe me?
would you doubt?
would you laugh?
would you turn away,because you didnt "think" of me that way..
or you just had no idea at all,because of how shy I seem to be?
To look at something..and then suddenly feel ..so ..much.
When I say "feel", I mean,the cognition is extreme and so immense..Mindblowing.breathtaking.Captivating,Stalling.
It effects us all not only mentally,but physically.
It tells us what to do,It plays a huge part on how we feel.
Cognition,connection- to environment.
Cognition,connection- to..clinical dysfunction/biological behavior?
I look at everything,random things,things everywhere.
in the house,outside,in supermarkets,in the bus,on the street..
stop signs,
black top gravel,
the colors inside a book store,
of everything from the different colored spines of the books,and the shapes,the sizes.
the endless,overwhelming text
the bold,the italic..the large,catchy title and
the tiny,aligned overall print of every chapter.
the smell of candles,coffee.
The way that checkout clerk looked at me.
the sound of cars honking,and trunks slamming.
and they all make me...feel.
they touch me..
they play with my hair
and brush against my bare stomach..
lifting my blouse,and kissing my neck.
Do you see?
Can you feel it too?
Dont you see,
the cognition is fucking me.
mm,and its good.
And its private.
yet... people around me,think that its public.
think that they have the right,to get inside of my head.
to judge,to know
to...understand?
I love its hands..
and its wrong..so wrong for you to want to stand and watch,
...but its right at the same time.
Its so beautiful
I may be looking at something,but you dont know how it feels to me,on the inside.
Underneath my flesh,in the slime and the blood.
against the walls of meat,bouncing upon the DNA streams.
Zapping through sudden flickers of electrochemical brain waves
I may be staring at a teapot,my head may turn,my head may stay still..
I may have this particularly peculiar look on my face,
but my thoughts very well be the total opposite.
If I grin,I may really feel sullen
If I frown,I may be actually content
If I whine,I may not be whining out of pain at all,
but of pleasure..or desire.
to you,i may be a sort of girl.
some sort of girl.
some specific type of girl.
a bitch?
a sweetheart.
a slut.
an innocent.
an honest person,
a liar?
but that doesnt mean that I really am of those things..
because,again..
its perception and perspectives.
Your boyfriend may be Prince romeo to you,
but he may be the most disgustly,vile cad to his ex girlfriend.
Strawberry jam on toast may taste so delcious to you,
but it may taste like a Styrofoam box to your friend.
That small place in the city,may be such a ruckus,
such a burden,a stress, an urban cram to your neighbor.
but It may be the most enjoyable,amusing,interesting place youve ever lived.
If youre my mother,I may be your daughter.
Your stomach would turn at the thought of a mans hands allover me
If youre my brother,I may be your sister,youve never seen a really serious side of me
If youre my teacher,I am your student
We cant talk about masturbation,or how I cant stand organized religion.
but I am me..
in so many different layers.
I am layers.
I am sections.
I am parts,and pieces.
I am fragments and particals
I am everything.
I am a character.
I'm in a movie
the most significant movie of all
this movie: Life.
I'm in a tv show
i'm on a runway
im in a book
im in a painting
A theater
Dramatics
Hysterics
Plots
situations
Conflicts
uprising
resolutions
music,music
costume!
DESIGN.
the best art: Life.
I've been a written girl,
Described facial features
A creative role
Someone made me,
but I made myself.
We both made me.
because,its all about
perception and perspectives.
A strict screen play script
"dont mess up"they say
Do i fall?
I like to fall.
I'm dangerous
I have these...little drugs..
Drugs?
but are they drugs?
I think they are.
Theres my love,as a posion,he is.
my restraints,My punishment. My masochism,and then there are actual pills.
mm..?
And cigarettes.
And wanting to kiss,
And running away.
And being thin.
And Wanting to die,
and drinking apple juice.
And bruises on my body,
and heart shaped sunglasses.
And being rejected,and being hurt.
dirt on my hands,but perfect hair.
red nail polish,and pretty lips.
runny liner,but soft,bare,clean little knees..
watch me.
This world,really is a play.
Its a film.
Watch me.
Feel me.
Let me touch you,brush against you
Let me inside your head,and kiss your thoughts
my actions,
my dysfunctional life
my faults,
my flaws
I'm not special,really.
Yet I completely am.
theres a character in you,too.
Just find it.Embrace it.
I'm a girl you're yet to know.
I'm a girl you may read about,
or maybe not.
I'm a character.
Indirect and direct characterization
your perception
as you read...these..
sentences..
your thoughts of me..
the sensations..
the ideal,and the strange.
who am I...
to you?
Very perceptive. You're amazing. I love you.
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