Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Mute

Disclaimer: Although this entry appears to be very negative, I don't actually think this way all the time. I wrote this probably about 2 years ago, but I'm not sure. I'm not even sure why I wrote it in the first place. It brings up small motes of remembered emotions of embarassment, but the events behind it have faded into the mire of the past. In other words, the memory is not a life-altering lesson, therefore my brain has forgotten it in order to sustain my mostly positive being...

How easy life would be without such complications as love or communication. If I could hole myself up, I would be more free. Without words spoken I could spread my wings. I am not as perfect as i once thought. Such the conceited person that I am. I speak before thinking. Thinking is but a passing fancy. Who really needs it? Just kidding... It's quite obvious that i need to do more of it. To think of others before myself. To restrain my opinions, my words, my individuality. To stop and conform. For only through conforming can I become the person that everyone wants me to be. I feel so constrained by societal chains. To move is to be electrocuted. To breathe is sin. My opinions cause pain. My fears burn me, leaving me paralyzed. I can't carry on because I don't want to be an accidental murderer. How would they feel to be injured by such a callous person as I? Not surprised, that's for sure. Would the world be better without the likes of me in it? Probably... I can hardly think of that I have touched the lives of anyone. How could I have done that? No one would remember me as anything other than the girl who thought of no one but herself. I have to admit that I am vain! I am self-centered! I am egotistical! I forget that I am not the only person in the world. Who would want to be around someone like me? Who would wnat to love me? Caress me? Who could imagine spending the rest of their life with me? I can't.

By taking to silence, I am forced to think of the words that I show to others. I have to write them down. By writing them down, I am forced to think about them. By thinking, I can berate myself when I speak callously. I don't want people to remember me as being a witch. I don't want to burn people at the stake of my words. Oh, how can I be like this? I hate myself! I'm never free, and my happiness is never true. The silver lining fades. I'm left with the decaying body I've been stuck with. With the mind that's made up before the schedule is set. With the thoughtless cruelty I spread. How much brighter the sun would shine knowing that it wouldn't have to shine on me...

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