Emo Furby

Rendered Thoughts From Rendered Parchment

Have you ever thought that the night could be hungry? Like it wants to eat you up? Thats the feeling I get sometimes. I don't want to move because if I do that, I won't want to stop and I'll get all wrapped up in some crazy shit that I won't be able to deal with. But the night, it seems, is always there, waiting around, looming over me. Its the feeling I get when I'm in my room at night. I want for something, but I don't know what and I feel so isolated but at the same time I think I could run right through the wall if I really wanted to. No matter what I do I think I'm wasting time when I think I should be getting on to the real thing, but I don't know what the hell that is. I tell myself that something's coming. I don't know what, but it's coming...but it never does and I knew that it wouldn't in the first place. But to think that something's coming makes me feel like living my life to the fullest a little more. I sit here and I can hear all this noise and shit outside and I wonder if any of it's for me, if any of those noises are suppose to be telling me something. I listen intently. I don't want to miss the right one. What a drag, but I don't know what's dragging. The night is the only constant. But that doesn't help much right now.

Sometimes I think of myself as this guy holding on to a propeller that is going full speed. My body twists and turns as I hold on for dear life. Pulled along. In motion but not really in control. If I close my eyes, I can see myself and this propellar go ripping by, the propellar cutting a path through dense underbrush and tree limbs. The propellar does fine. My body gets mangled as it slams into tree trunks, branches, and bushes. I need to make friends with the machine. I need to understand the power, to harness it and direct it, not be dragged along by it. I need to become one with the machine. I've got to stop holding onto the monkey's tail. I must get on the monkey's back.

I could say goodbye to this blog, but theres too much to let go of. It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because its so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't come back. You're left so alone that you can't explain. Damn, there's nothing like that, is there? I've been there and you have too. You're nodding your head.