Thursday, April 22, 2004
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Its posting time, just cause I haven't in a while.

Now, what to post about, cause I've pretty much exhausted any remotely interesting issues. Well, here's something, ya know people who are infinitely depressed and such, it really is a pointless statement of self-unworth (if that is a word). I mean sympathy has its merits and roots in acts of compassion and all, but sometimes when someone is just desperately gasping for symphathy, it becomes a kind of pathetic plea. An example of this would be people who write long stories about some girl with added splices of poorly contrived poems mixed in between. Okay, once, twice, perhaps even thrice is fine. But once we see this constant pattern of writting after writting, whine after whine, plea after plea, the whimper of self-pity is just too pathetic is care for. Personally, I'm on the borderline of this issue, although I doubt I could continue to shine the spotlight on my suffering self for long without actually discovering that action is more effective and drowning in self-pity. Then we have the over-exaggeration phase in which the subject just explodes with all kinds of infintisimal "problems" that somehow are magnified in their tiny. self-created world of pain. We're 16 'n 17 year olds, dear God, what horrible manefistation of the worldly problems could we possibly possess? Perhaps this is just due to a lack of experience in which other past difficulties could simply overshadow the present problems and put them into their rightful perspectives. But once this tendency becomes habit, then occurs the downward spiral of teenage life, which by the way, is hell not because in reality it is so bad, but rather because in one's own mind one has created such a faulty horror of it all.

Yellowcard - One Year Six Months

- Me out.
Stephen at 10:12 PM