Electrocoustic. Adventurous excitement, and smooth sailing.

I guess emo music isn't the only thing that calms me down. Owl City, Playradioplay!, Nevershoutnever, A Rocket to the Moon. Oh how all of you have saved my life. It's all so calm and soothing, this electrocoustic sound. Makes me forget why I was so sad.

But it'll never truly go away. I have no more words. No more energy. No more faith. All I have is this music. Flowing through the speaker and pounding into my brain. What an ill fate for someone who used to love the world. I lament sorrowfully for that person who has lost his will. It used to be focused on one thing. And now that's gone.

I've never felt like this before in my entire life. But there's a first time for everything, right?

Solitude is my friend.

I think that if I display too much emotion within the words that I type up, I become lost within my own thoughts and just start sporadically going off on numerous tangents out of pure impulse. Yet here I am, allowing myself to do such a thing, and knowing full well where it's going to lead.

Today I find myself heartbroken. Not to exaggerate my definition, but I feel trampled on. I feel that part of me is giving up in its struggle, and can no longer withstand the burden it carries. It seems every five minutes, that stab of pain pierces my chest and drills clean through my heart and all I can do is cry in anguish and wait for the pain to subside by strumming on the guitar, singing stupid songs that only remind me of why it hurts. Yeah. That's how deep I'm in. My supposed talents have turned against me and made me bitter, and now I hate all of them. Even as I weave together this eloquent vocabulary, I am reminded. With every letter that goes down, I am aware. And now what am I?

Because of my aimless pursuit, I am left haggard and defeated at the very root of my own being. I hate myself. I hate my voice. I hate my vernacular. I hate that stupid fucking guitar. Everything that once made me proud to be myself now only makes me want to extinguish it. And yet I can't, because I'd be letting go of something that's a part of me. And I hate myself because of that. I wish, so much, that I was born deaf dumb and blind. Then I wouldn't care so much about it. But that chance has passed. And I am backed into a corner that I cannot escape.

Plus, I sound like a fag. Like a stupid fucking fagget retard letting his feelings get the best of him. I don't display emotions physically. I'm good at that. However, sitting behind a computer screen, and putting down the words, even though I am exposed and whoever reads this shit knows it's me, I can do it. Because behind the keyboard, I'm no longer a coward. Take it away and I'm a fucking pussy. And all I want is to let it out, because I have no other solace. I can just let the ideas flow from my mind with an abandon like I could never have in reality.

And yet I'm still sad. Still unwell. I've been reading Eragon. If you know what that is, then great, if you don't, let me tell you about it, because I think it's a coincidence I decided to read it again. Eragon is a human kid, and he's totally into this elf girl, but she isn't digging him at all. And she straight up tells him, "We aren't meant to be together" and that shit was like a blow to the top of his skull with a bowling ball. I don't know how that would make me feel.

Oh wait. Yeah I do.

Hah. Like this elf girl (her name is Arya), is hella stuck up and shit. Eragon is the coolest guy ever. He's a dragon rider, he's good at sword fighting, he's good at magic. Dude, she just totally doesn't like him because he doesn't look as good as an elf.

And now when I reread that, I think I'm hella funny. But it's TRUE. She's shallow. Arya is a shallow bitch that is racist against humans. She just thinks she's better than Eragon. But y'know, Eragon's a big 'ole whiny baby. He thinks Arya is totally worth it. Like, he totally thinks Arya is the shit, and she's perfect, and there's nobody else. Believe me, he's tried looking at the other girls, but he's just totally taken by Arya, no matter what.

And all he wants to do is tell Arya all of it. How amazing she is, how beautiful she is, how no one could ever give her everything she deserved no matter how hard they tried, and given the chance, Eragon would do everything in his power to make her happy because he knows what she's worth and he's willing to sacrifice his life to make sure that he is good enough to be with somebody like that, and even though she doesn't think so, he knows so, and even God tells him that it's true when he prays about her. And because of her, he prays the rosary every single day. And because of her, he started writing again. And because of her, he feels like he's actually needed in the world. He feels like somebody. And yet she causes him so much grief. Too much grief. He's ready to let it all go. Forget all of that devotion crap and just sleep and become a hermit in the mountains with his books and his own mind where he can grow jaded and unpleasant.

Ok, that's not exactly how the story goes. Eragon actually does eventually look like an elf, and Arya still rejects him. And I don't think Eragon believes in God or praying the rosary. But by now, you've probably guessed I wasn't talking about Eragon or Arya.

And now all I have is self-loathing. Yeah. I'm just gonna go die somewhere in peace.

This is where I stand.

I started reading again. Books that I've already read, but it makes me remember the days when I could just get lost in the story and forget about the present reality. It's as if I no longer need to worry, I'm no longer required to doubt. As long as the character within the pages prevails. Am I pathetic for wishing I wasn't me? Am I weak for wanting something different? I go through the words and the story speaks so vividly of love and compassion and destiny, yet the actuality of those things is dull, and in most cases, non-existent. So what have I to hope for? I don't live in the story. I live in reality. And the harshness of such a bleak and merciless plane of existence is disheartening to the point of utter agony. My sorrow rises with every minute that I am forced to live through it. It's become so great that I feel imprisoned within my own mind and the only place of solace is within the pages of that book. That Book. It draws me in so far that I am finally free. Forget everything else. Forget the sorrow and the agony and the pain while I read about the protagonist finding his one true love. While I envision him offering that person his deepest devotion, and her accepting without question. What a world that would be.

It's all a lie. Those stories and ballads about love and destiny. It's all bullshit. It's all fake. It's all a carefully plotted out, pretty sounding facade composed by the greatest story-tellers ever known to man. People who have the ability to make you believe in whatever they say, and then exaggerated ten-fold by the normal denizens of society. Fickle-minded people who believe every word that the stories portray. People like me, who find solace and salvation within the words. Within the pages. Within the books. Within the STORIES. That's why they are called stories. Because they aren't real. And everytime I come to this realization, I die. Because this is my never-ending strife. This is my agony. And it'll echo in a dull roar of suffering for eternity.

But you say I'm just a frieeend. HAHAHA.

I've been friends with alot of people, but only a few of them have made that insanely large impact on my life. Other than family, I've only witnessed a couple of people who were able to change my entire perspective on the universe and its innerworkings. I don't know why or how it came to be this way, but it did, by some divine force, God sent me these blessings (or curses) to mold me into the person who I am today. And I am grateful to them.

Russell and Robin
They've been there, and we've grown together under the light of God for over a year now. Our faith has spread and our concept of morality has heightened, all because we spotted eachother during the down times when our spiritual high wasn't at its peak, and when we needed somebody to point out our imperfect judgement. They are my rock, my support, my strength. R-Rock and Lil Deuce. R&R. WtRussel!? and RawRbin. The V. Bros. We have a million nicknames for eachother, and a million more inside jokes. We can't get any tighter with eachother than we already are.

AlizaMUHDOOOOOO
I hate it when you call my name with your annoying whiny voice. It drives me insane, because most of the time, it's followed by something you want me to do for you. The thing is, I'll do everything for you, because you're my Muhdoo, and you are everything to me. So whatever I can give, I'll give it to you, no matter what, because that's how much I love you, and that's what brothers do, right? You're the person to talk to when I'm bored, and you're the person to talk to when I'm sad, or mad, or happy, even. You're the person to talk to every minute of every day. There's no bad time to call, unless you're sleeping, because you're boring when you're sleeping. And we've talked about everything. From relationships to feet. We've talked about it. And the fact that you think I'm hella cool, even though I'm just some guy makes me proud to call you my sister. My best. My Muhdoo.

Michelle (effing) Barros
You are the bane of my existence. That burning hatred in the back of my brain that screams for me to unleash it whenever I see your face because it pisses me off just THAT much, and I want to gouge my own eyeballs out, stab myself in the throat, and shoot myself in the head. And for some reason, we're alike in alot of ways. I won't lie about it and say you never changed me, and I won't lie and say I wouldn't care if you were gone. You are the one that first brought me to God. You are the one that made me think of the things I was saying, and you showed me the actual level of vulgarity I was spewing out. And I know you hate me as much as I hate you. Probably more. And I know we're never gonna get over hating eachother, because I'm always gonna start a fight with you. Just something about your attitude that pisses me off. But I also know that for some reason, I'm never gonna be able to cut you off completely, no matter how I try. I don't forget the times I came to you with my problems, or the times you came to me with your's. I don't forget when I felt bad after telling you off and calling you a bitch on like 8 different levels of insults. I don't forget it. You might, but I won't. And I'll keep remembering, even when you ignore me and push me away. I'll take all the crap and all the abuse from you, because I don't wanna just give up on you. Because I remember my friends. I don't forget.

The One.

This I see, visions of her and me,
filling the compilations of my thoughts of she,
and dreams of we-
be, together like mac and cheese,
I vastly seek the paths that lead,
to her heart, so that me, and her, could be,
as one, never to be undone, and I,
would sacrifice, thirty years of the expanse of my life,
in order to have one rhyme that would spark,
a light, and give her an inkling of want to be mine,
just so that one time, I could find,
emotional connection, intense enough to burn the sun,
run with it 'till the song is done,
but I'm only half way through verse one.

Yet I'm set to fail,
cause she's eleven on a one-to-ten scale.
The fall of her gaze impacts like hail,
and I'm left bruised under the icy sheets,
like damn. She's really lookin' at me?
Wit, beauty, and style,
all of these qualities making my strife worthwhile,
if only to see her smile.
And I know, undoubtedly,
that her and me could be.
And I pray for something. Anything.
Show me that opening.
I'll wait forever for that day,
cause she embodies words no one could ever say.
And I don't think I've ever seen her face,
or heard her name.

Holy crap.

You know what happens when I'm stagnant online for a long time? I start losing my jaded, forked-tongue, uncaring demeanor. Well actually, I just stop being clever within my writings. Because I'm unseasoned, and I've gone soft. I find it difficult, at this very moment, to find words that I used commonly before I stopped writing. Maybe life caught up to me, and I'm becomming more and more normal with every day that passes by that I'm not exercising my wit. Eventually, I'll just stop being my old self, and turn into something else. Then again, according to society, my old self was kind of weird. I was introverted, my life revolved around imaginary beings on a stupid looking website, and I was pained for every second that I was away from it. My world was within a computer screen, from when I was 14, until I was 16. Two of the most defining years in a teenager's life. When we evolve from young teenager, to old teenager. Not me, though. I had the mindset of an old teenager from the get-go. Only thing was, my brain kept that adolescent mindset going into adulthood.

I dunno where I'm going with this. I guess I'm just saying I don't know what I am right now. An idiot, a genius, a kid, a man. We'll see.

Oh, flaming shitballs.

Helloooo!! Man, it's been awhile. And I've been sad lately too, if I woulda posted something it would have been heartfelt because I'm good at writing when I'm emo. It's fine though, I'm posting today. Camp is over... It was alright, I was sorta disappointed but no biggie, the next one is gonna be much much better. Also, spring break. I went to Vacaville with Jojo and saw my faaavorite. Haha. And finally got my right ear peirced, after so long contemplating whether or not I should actually go through with it. That was pretty fun. And then Hillsong concert in downtown Sac. Oh my freaking lord, it was amazing. Brooke Fraser is my hero.

But on to the less uplifting subjects. As always... Or most of the time, anyways, I am on the verge of complete insanity. I haven't felt like this since I was a freshman in high school. I feel like I'm about to throw up every 5 minutes because that fucking pit in my stomach won't leave me the fuck alone. Everything seems fucking boring to me, even YFC meetings have become dull and uninspiring. I don't even want to go to precon anymore. I feel like sleeping all the time. My mind is always set on one single fucking event that occured about 2 days ago, and I went over it so many fucking times in my brain that I might as well have memorized the entire conversation. And what sucks is, the whole thing was my fault. Should have just stopped when she didn't want to be my friend anymore. Problem was, I cared too much and I couldn't just let go of something as important as being able to just talk to her.

Too fucking late now, isn't it? I said the worst possible shit that anyone in the entire world could have said to her. I delved into my repitoire of insulting prowess, combined it with my knowledge of her weaknesses, and took every single aspect of that weakness and shoved it directly into her face. And the fucked up thing is, I didn't feel bad until the end of the next day. I didn't feel any kind of remorse, because I was too fucking pissed off at her, and in my mind I thought she deserved what I said. And then I went to church, and after that, a YFC meeting, and right as we were singing Here I Am To Worship at the end of the meeting, I look up, and I see her there in front, singing for the music ministry. Then I closed my eyes and I started praying. It wasn't my most passionate prayer, but I meant it with all my heart. I asked for forgiveness, from God for what I said to a sister, and I prayed for God to help her forgive me.

From then on, is when I started feeling bad. I tried to apologize to her after the meeting too. And she made a facial expression that I've seen before, though I never, in my life, wanted her to make that face because of me. I know it so well, because I've seen it before, more than once. And my heart melted right there, I could barely even muster up the words to say sorry. And then I left, when I could have said so much more, and apologized more sincerely.

I think this is one of those over time kind of things, though I don't really see it lasting very long. I pray she forgives me for what I said. Even though I know things are never gonna be the same way as before. I'm never gonna be as close as I was to her. I guess that's just how these things end. It just kinda sucks because it's my fault. I am sorry, though. Truely.