alcohol & women.
And I don't break 'em for no one.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Portland Calling
My attachment cannot be described in words, much less those on a computer monitor. The fangs of hate and piercing eyes of contempt that I have don't block your radiance from my sight, and I'm excited to call you one of my best friends.
There's no need to cry. "People never really leave us. They always leave a part of them behind." You told me that quote in a very unstable moment in my life, and as my departure is imminent I repeat it to you so you don't feel like you have really lost me.
Like a tattoo on a ribcage, or the back of an arm, imprisonment number stamped on a sleeve, or cuts from trauma engraved, it doesn't matter if it's love or hurt, memories of people stay with you forever, and I'm proud to say that you are a warm place.
Take care of yourself,
- Favenris
Monday, June 6, 2011
June 6th
I don't have the time or energy to write about today's significance. There are other more important tasks that require my time. Instead, the day can be summarized in a single sentence:
"He dumped me. It is normal for passion to fade away in a relationship and that is why he left me. Sooner or later, he will discover that a girl doesn't let passion last forever either."
My uppity moral lesson for this blog post?
girlswillmanipulateyouineverywaythattheycanthinkofsothatyouwontleavethemandwillcontinouslyblameyoufortheirhurtsothattheycanimplantaseedofguiltthatwillconsumeyou.
Boom, done, now I got better shit to do.
"He dumped me. It is normal for passion to fade away in a relationship and that is why he left me. Sooner or later, he will discover that a girl doesn't let passion last forever either."
My uppity moral lesson for this blog post?
girlswillmanipulateyouineverywaythattheycanthinkofsothatyouwontleavethemandwillcontinouslyblameyoufortheirhurtsothattheycanimplantaseedofguiltthatwillconsumeyou.
Boom, done, now I got better shit to do.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Subjective Blindness
There's a pile of papers on my desk that I need to work on. Every now and then I get distraught and think that I don't have the ability to filter through them, or work through the ones that need attention. But then I remind myself that it isn't because I don't have the ability to do so, but because I simply don't have time for it. Other more important tasks take priority over them.
There is so much that I would like to accomplish, but I'm not in a position in where I can get started. I'm not in a position where I can dust off my shirt and say "alright, let's do this." The frustration won't take over me, though. Each and everyday I'm working on making time for that stack of papers on my desk, and one day they are going to be accomplished.
I'm very easily frustrated with the charlatans of the world, especially when people I love so dearly give them attention out of lust or anger against me. They fail to recognize that they are wearing make-up instead of holding any real authenticity. The pretty cute girl who is crying is always going to receive more attention that the truly hurt girl who is doing her best to smile.
The stupid fucks who think that they are in some sort of abyss most likely only have a single blank page next to their desk, and the worst part of it all, is that their family is filling out the form for them. Yet they complain about having work on their desk and scream and proclaim it to the world, shouting it at every corner that they can.
It makes me sick that there's people like that in the world, who cry wolf. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I will receive an endorphin rush when I complete my stack of papers, and that silly idiot in his laziness will receive no emotional accomplishment whatsoever.
Go ahead and let him cry on your shoulder, it makes me easy to filter and discriminate the stupid from the ones who force themselves to see the world objectively instead of succumbing to subjective blindness.
There is so much that I would like to accomplish, but I'm not in a position in where I can get started. I'm not in a position where I can dust off my shirt and say "alright, let's do this." The frustration won't take over me, though. Each and everyday I'm working on making time for that stack of papers on my desk, and one day they are going to be accomplished.
I'm very easily frustrated with the charlatans of the world, especially when people I love so dearly give them attention out of lust or anger against me. They fail to recognize that they are wearing make-up instead of holding any real authenticity. The pretty cute girl who is crying is always going to receive more attention that the truly hurt girl who is doing her best to smile.
The stupid fucks who think that they are in some sort of abyss most likely only have a single blank page next to their desk, and the worst part of it all, is that their family is filling out the form for them. Yet they complain about having work on their desk and scream and proclaim it to the world, shouting it at every corner that they can.
It makes me sick that there's people like that in the world, who cry wolf. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I will receive an endorphin rush when I complete my stack of papers, and that silly idiot in his laziness will receive no emotional accomplishment whatsoever.
Go ahead and let him cry on your shoulder, it makes me easy to filter and discriminate the stupid from the ones who force themselves to see the world objectively instead of succumbing to subjective blindness.
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