Lit From Inside's picture

This is me before I sleep

Tired... Blaah. I hate justice class. Justice in *stupid* America. Yuckers. Stupid Umbridge lady thinks she knows something about justice in an unjust country with a nasty president. Don't like her. Don't like justice in america, in which we don't even touch on gay rights. That says something. Civil rights but not gay rights, hmmm...
I just read about a man (a pianist) who was found washed up on the Isle of Sheppey. He doesn't speak, to anyone, and seems to be afraid of people, but he loves his piano, is happy when he plays it.

Lit From Inside's picture

This is my Desire

Every morning I wake up and find myself crying; all I want is for someone to understand me. I ask all my friends questions, about every side of my being, none of them understand everything. Poetry in the park, reading Emily Dickinson, none of them understand that. The graffiti that I paint on the walls of my room, and the sidewalk, none of them understand that. Riding to the bus just to watch and giggle at all the people sitting and being around us, none of them understand that. The essential pieces of my soul, are misunderstood by my closest friends. I live with only a shell of myself being taken care of by the people around me; can you call that healthy? I am such a complainer, so pitiful. Not even content with the people who care about me, I guess what I'm really looking for is love. Where do I even begin? Where am I supposed to look? It doesn't exactly help that I attend an extremly homophobic school at which I'm the only person who's "out." So if you can figure out what I'm looking for, underneath all the wanting to be alone, then I guess you're the person who I'm supposed to be with.

Lit From Inside's picture

This is my Last Day

Every day I am who I am, I am who I try to be, am who other people see me to be. I get so sick of it. In THE AGE OF RESON, Jean-paul Sartre says something along the lines of, if a misfit is proud of his status as such, then he's doomed, basically. Sartre says that if people don't comply to the norm, they shouldn't be proud of who they are. I love a lot of Sartre's points, but upon finishing THE AGE OF REASON, I was completely depressed. Ah, well.

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