<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/6058128039614334739?origin\x3dhttp://theoldmariangela.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
about entries gallery/ archives,
Monday, January 5, 2009
the truth
you will only see,
you will only see, if you know how to look..
if you know how to look.
there is a side to me that only the closest, most trusted will be witness to. it is not pretty. it is not romantic. it is dark. i say this devoid of all pride and arrogance. these people are not lucky. sometimes they are upset by it. ideally, they will shrug and carelessly go about their lives as if nothing ever happened. which is good for them. it crushes me. "no one cares?" the pieces of me mix and scatter in the breeze. they fall between the cracks in my foundation. no one knows the pathetic depth i seek out in everything. it is my masochistic passion. i need to feel. if i cannot feel, i am not alive. a lifeless object, lacking a purpose in a pointless existence.
there are two types of passion that remind me i'm alive.
the other kind is ....fucking beautiful. the purest most profound, untainted thing ever to be. it makes my eyes well up and my heart strain to keep rhythm, just thinking about it. the stronger i feel it, the more healthy i am. in every sense. it becomes okay to feel. okay to be so passionate. okay to open up and let the world in. it is okay to BE........... it is thoroughly dangerous.
because when it goes away.. i am an empty shell. a vegetable on auto-pilot. sometimes unwillingly.

lately i've been thinking a lot about the psychology of a girl who's only father figure was apart of the picture only long enough to be remembered, then vanish without a trace or explanation. at the time it couldn't have mattered less. so what?
thoughts evolved and i began to wonder what effects her silly little childhood desires have on her today. like how every time she was genuinely sad... broken and pathetic holding her head in her hands and her heart in her stomach.. she felt if she cried, maybe if she just let it out, someone will come sweep her up in their arms and just the fact that they are there will make her strong enough to realize if she is not yet dead, she has gained an incredible amount of strength.
they never did.
sad little sob story from the overly emotional girl, i know. always damaged by something. never happy. never pleased.
i can only justify it with the theory that she grew up a combination of both factors of her childhood and turned into the worst case scenario for anyone at whom she aims her interest.
not only did you fail to notice i'm experiencing AN emotion.. but because you do not notice you are bound to up and desert me. BECAUSE i am so weak, you will abandon me.

so what now?
"care less". create distance. protect. shield.

'cest la fucking vie.
i accept that i will end up alone. i can only hope i am not miserable.
i am just too god damn fucked up for you. one challenge that cannot be conquered.

the best mariangela.