All Of The Things

That I thought were "so easy"... Just got harder and harder each day.

Gah. This stupid discovery called music is making me so nostalgic for the present, if that makes sense. So today, I'm typing like a normal person. Sigh. I hate being normal. It's like I said to Susan and Bailey: I write like an intellectual, I speak like a stupid valley girl. Everything that comes from my mouth is plain, stupid, and facetious. Do I even want to talk like I write, though? If I did, no one would understand me. I'd get called a knowitall and no one would want to be my friend. Sigh, sigh, sigh. I'll be back to NOT normal soon, though. I guarantee. Every normal word that I type frightens me that I'm slowly and slowly approaching that line....... That line of linearity.

So I will write a poem!!

Oh, no. Warning: a poem written during one of my "normal" stints SUCKS. I swear. No one really reads this but still. Whoever may be reading this. It's going to suck.

Actually, no. I'm not going to write any poetry. BecauseBecauseBescause today is about nonconformity. And I realize that no, everyone else is me and I'm everybody else... When we all speak. We all speak and say the same things anyways, so why are we scared to speak? Well, we do anyways. And the silence is like a feast, a feast. And the words are like the food but it's no normal feast. Here's how it works, bub:

You talk. You supply food to the feast. The silence is yours, and some is leftover. TAKE IT TAKE IT! IT'S LEFTOVERS! You can still get your two cents in there! Go!

No, no. I don't want to be a dog begging for silent scraps that only mangle and choke my opinions. And what use are they, anyways? My opinions, their opinions, it's all the same. All the same. That's why the Devil's Advocate is such a lovely title to hold. Not a genuine one. See, here's the method: Play Devil's Advocate for fun, and then adopt the view. Adopt it, believe it, love it. This, of course, is subjective like every other thing in this world.

I sound like prime meat, don't I? But in this day and age, what isn't? There's something and I like to call it cleverness. We all have it. Why must...

See, this is the part where I should say goodbye and hang up my virtual pen and walk away before I make any more of a normal fool of myself. Every single word I'm writing is just making me cringe... I sound like a... Like a... 15-year-old girl... EW. She's not me. I'm not her. We're not each other. She's just general and she's just typical and she's just a stereotype of what I could be and chose not to be. And for a reason. No one wants to be that. Well, no, I lied.

No amount of words could make me feel better, though. Because they'll all sound like the one before it but with +/- the amount and and and and .... I don't know.