How I feel.

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The imagination is not a State: it is the Human existence itself.
I’m confused about my entire life. Don’t ask for my advice, I don’t have the answers. I live life in avoidance of reality. I tend to screw people over; most sincerely unintentionally. I'm hypocritical and contradictory in every single way. I worry about every possible, minute detail of my life. I'm too often told I'm too nice. Oh well. I wear a lot of makeup sometimes, and I don't care if you don't like it. There are very few people who appreciate my quirky personality.
I have a hard time holding decent conversations with people, because I find most people to be lacking a high enough level of conversational skill to satisfy my intellectual needs.
Have you ever had the unexplainable urge to just cut yourself open and take a look at your insides? I sometimes have that feeling. I want to open myself up and examine everything about my body that makes my heart beat, my blood race, my soul ache.
[[OR]]
Do you ever get that uncomfortable eerie feeling? Where you know something is going to happen, it's bound to. Where your chest tightens and you're suddenly finding it hard to breathe; hard to communicate. That feeling, that signal that something's wrong; have you ever felt it? Then you chase it away with some sort of advice to yourself, an antidote to forget the percieved sensation. But no matter what you tell yourself, you're still conscious of that little feeling....the itch just below the skin; only a razor can scratch.
.THE WORLD ISN'T WHAT I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE.
I want to be myself. When I find out who that person is; I'll let you know. Until then just be content with the person I am, and don't wait around for the person I am yet to become. You might be waiting forever. If you asked me right now, this very second, who I am, it’s most likely I wouldn’t be able to answer you, because the truth is; I have no clue. Some days I wake up in the morning with this notion in my head, that I’ve got it all figured out; I know exactly who I am and what the world is all about. Then some sudden, completely out of the blue occurrence shatters my entire foundation on which I stand, and my feet fall out from under me and I spiral down and down, back to the real world; a world I will never understand.
The world doesn't seem to want me, neither do you. I'm easily frightened by what lies just beyond my dreaming refuge. I tend to make things seem better than they are. I stretch the truth all too often. Not that I lie, I just make my life seem more appropriate and socially acceptable. I have much knowledge of the real world, but prefer not to speak of it. I'd rather wash it all away. This world is far too scary. Could it be what God intended all along? Or are we just preying on each others insecurities and living on the edge? Just wait till we fall, soon to lose it all. Maybe then we'll realize. Maybe then I'll hold the world a little higher. Maybe then I won't feel so out of place.
I tend to put faith in people too easily. I give people my trust and my complete loyalty, without thinking twice about all prior experiences and reasons why this is really a terrible idea. Then what do you know? Someone I trust always lets me down, always screws me over; and I get reminded again of how I shouldn't trust anyone. Thanks for everything.
Honestly…I’d be lying if I said I was so different from any of you, because in truth I’m probably a lot like you. I don’t try to be, and I don’t care if I am or not. I’m not looking to fit in, and I’m not looking to stand out. I’m just trying to get by in life. I would ask you not to judge me based off my looks, my style, my musical preferences, or the people I hang out with…but what’s the point? You probably already have a preconceived notion in your head about me. So go ahead and judge me.




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Hi and Welcome to YWS:)

I was toggling through the Dramatic Poetry section and this wasn't what I was looking for, really. This is not recalled poetry at all anything but Poetry seriously. Reading the first line and seeing the structure didn't make me want to go through the whole thing and read it, most people around this forum looking for some poetry wouldn't want to either. But you're new here so I'd recommend you to post this elsewhere for it to get attention, maybe in the "About the Authors" section or more likely in the Fiction forums ;)

Feel free to ask anymore questions and have fun at YWS

Cheerios, Chandni
I should not keep on, I'll just creep on creepin'on.




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Honey, try reading some actual poetry before you post something. It's not even free verse...you just kept on writing something for as long as you wanted to, without any thought to rhythm, stanza or the like. It's more like a....blog entry I suppose, or something along those lines.

No offence intended of course.

~Chibi
I speak with abscences, my lips move but no sound escapes; my life is but an eternal darkness searching for it's light.




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This should go under the forum 'Other'.

Try it over there. :)
"A good plot is like a dream.If you dont write down your dream on paper the moment you wake up,the chances are you'll forget it and it'll be gone forever"-Roald Dalh.




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I dont know what this was trying to be, it looks more like prose yet reads like bull to be honest.

Im not sure where this should go. Perhaps you should try some small standard poems first?
Previously known as "Phorcys"
Witherwings Harry Potter RPG




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Welcome, Dying Immortal -


My advice is to get your head out of your butt and your pen out of your navel. Not even mentioning the moronic meandering and didactic verbiage this fatally suffers from, your poem is plagued with its narrator's demonstrative boorishness and self-idolatry. As if anybody could even possibly care about you. For godssake, even Bukowski is rolling in his grave.

Next time, try employing at least SOME rudimentary level of poetic sophistication. The only place this junk needs to go is the nearest trash bin.


All the best,
Brad
"If I have not seen as far as others, it is because giants were standing on my shoulders." -Hal Abelson




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Incandescence wrote:Welcome, Dying Immortal -


My advice is to get your head out of your butt and your pen out of your navel. Not even mentioning the moronic meandering and didactic verbiage this fatally suffers from, your poem is plagued with its narrator's demonstrative boorishness and self-idolatry. As if anybody could even possibly care about you. For godssake, even Bukowski is rolling in his grave.

Next time, try employing at least SOME rudimentary level of poetic sophistication. The only place this junk needs to go is the nearest trash bin.


All the best,
Brad

Quoted for truth
Dan
"He who takes a life...it is as if he has destroyed an entire world....but he who saves one life, it is as if he has saved the world entire" Talmud Sanhedrin 4:5

!Hasta la victoria siempre! (Always, until Victory!)
-Ernesto "Che" Guevarra



Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.
— Corrie Ten Boom