not-growing-up

you can tackle life. its moments. incidents. problems. you can cry. howl. scream. but they all come under the comfortable label of 'protest verbally'. but what happens when you dont say a word? does silence automatically translate into acquiescence? or does it become heavy with depth and mysterious thoughts? bright ideas of revolution? hope.
nah. i dont think.

Timing is everything. when you meet someone, strike a chord. dislike pea-green footwear. notice the pink shade to the pashmina in the window. all about timing and someone very tiny is keeping tabs. a pixie i was told as a 7 year old. making teeny-tiny notes in a teeni(er) notebook. the pixie (sex undisclosed) notes all the good things you do and the bad. im sick of puttin the word GOOD and BAD in quotes to signify just how bloody relative they are. they're not.
okay fine. they MAY be. but the basics of morality remain the same. do not kill or hurt anyone.
im sick of debating with pseudo-intellectuals exactly WHY killing someone DOES mean you did something wrong. in our pursuit of elitism-of-thought we have gone quite mad. and morally awry. and sometimes nasty too.

the gnawing of nails must stop. so must the whining and need-for-escape.
escape where? to what? and ... how?
questions dont need answers. they need vodka that i dont drink and ciggies that i dont smoke. to numb the pain i dont feel. so questions dont need answers. and (tennis)balls(*sigh*) to anyone who begs to differ. we are not in a court of law where diplomacy is paramount. (or justice for that matter). we are here. on a blog. reading the rantings of someone who needs to be heard. but not by people who she doesnt know and will never know. she needs to figure out stuff.... needs to know why answers dont matter so much now, at this instant. why things dont feel 'together' anymore. why the trip tomorrow seems like the gloomiest thing in the whole-wide-world. she needs to know why she's talking in third person.

*perplexed*