Nobody Knows Me.

Nobody really knows anybody, the undertone of human existence.
People take pride in knowing their friends, in being able to predict their actions, and reactions.
My pride, lies in everyone I know. I know they all have their monsters, living inside them.
Waiting, patiently. Waiting for that vulnerable point where they can unleash themselves.
It's beautiful, the human mind. It can't handle it's own consciousness, which is by far the most irony I've ever seen.
Us as a species, take pride in the fact that we have an upper level, but the irony is that we've lost touch with the lower levels.
Has nature forced us to adapt, and disregard these basic functions for advanced ones?
But then why are there still people that bring themselves back down?
Nobody really knows me, mainly because I don't know me.
And I love it.

It reminds me that I'm still alive, just for the simple fact that I'm an open ended equation. We are all open ended equations. For instance, I could get up right now (3:43AM) tear off all of my clothes, and run outside naked for as long as I pleased. Who is to tell me that I can't or won't do this? Nobody. The dangers, including cold, police activity and animals may keep a (sane) person from attempting such a feat. Who won't join me?

I'm constantly screaming on the inside.
I'll play out the situation in my head, where I get up, scream and run out of the room numerous times.
Wishing that it would be that easy to erase my mind into subtle bliss. I'm constantly at war with myself, every single minute.
Second guessing, and justifying things that I've done. I'm a terrible person, whether it be in my head, or otherwise. And I'm o.k. with all of that. I realize that after so many years of criticism, the only regret I have, is not finding what it really means to be alive sooner. I'm enjoying my open ended equation, while it's still there to enjoy, so tell me.. Are you?

I don't know you, and you don't know me.
But thats the best part, of knowing you.

I am too controlled for that... Maybe.

Ever do something that you regret?
No doubt the answer to that question is yes. Everybody has.
But, what if it was the opposite?
What if you're so calculating that you never really do something you regret?
You'd almost desire to push yourself to take that step. To examine what is holding you back.
(I took you home.. Set you on the glass.)
A thirst to be selfish and impulsive. The harbinger of your fall from perfection.
(I pulled off your wings, and I laughed.)
Like there is something there, than you are missing. Some element that you have forsaken, reluctantly.
(I look at the cross.. Than I look away.)
But at the same time, you forsake your own morals by yearning for this.. Change.
(I give you the gun... Blow me away.)
You suffer the consequences of your actions, as everyone does. Beautiful consequences, disguised as monsters.
(Now you feel, so alive.)

I'm too controlled for that.
Just too calculating.
Just too smart.
Is it really lying to yourself if you know the truth anyway?

Inside, we are all out of control.
We are all burning, in so many directions.
Look into my eyes, into the my firestorm.
But don't come too close.
Don't fuel my fire.

Distracted.

I'm trying to think of happiness, as a straight feeling. But I just can't put my finger on it.
I'm trying to think of pure sadness, and thats pretty common. Easy to recreate. Something that I'm chained to.
I'm trying to think of why, instead of absolute happiness, there is only the feeling like I'm distracted from my sadness.
(Thanks T for this one, by the way.)

Like, there's always an undertone underneath my temporary insanity. (Happiness)
Because I never feel truly pure anymore. (Sadness.)
Always diluted, with some aftertaste. Constantly eating at my stature, at my decisions, at myself. Or what I think to be myself. (Happiness)
Too often I've second guessed myself because of this leash.. keeping me at close range. (Sadness.)
Because I'm afraid that breaking away from the leash, just means that my keeper comes to find me to punish me. (Happiness)
I want to know what you have to offer, world. Who, where, why, what you have to offer me. (Never)
I've wanted to all the tastes that everyone else seems to enjoy, just once. (Don't)
To feel young, and free. Before its too late. (Can't)
Please help me. Lead me. (No)
No? (Yes.)

But maybe I don't need them.
I've always been different.
Always been... something else.
Maybe for once I don't want to be treated like something else.
Maybe I'm just a shell filled with nothing.
Maybe I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going?
I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going.
And if thats o.k. with you, then thats o.k. with me.

Old Soul.

I have stood at the edge of reality.
Long after others have fallen asleep.
But, right before the day starts anew.
I have watched autumn leaves fall...
Ticking time away, seconds.. one by one falling away.
I have bathed in the seconds.. Letting then rain over me.
Fall over me.. Fall through me.
I have stood alone in the cold. Bathing in the falling seconds of my life.
Cold, but content. Almost as if the cold was my warmth.
My winter serenity comforts me.
I have stood still.. Within this timeless metaphor.
Within the timeless metaphor that I have built my life around.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
With eyes open wide to the beautiful peace that I have found.
Waiting right outside my front door.
The moon lighting the trees brightly through their yellow leaves..
In a black sky, not void of stars.
The leaves softly falling around and onto me.
The vivid colors of the sea of leaves I am standing in.
The light brisk winter air touches my face.. My entire body.
Touching my heart.. igniting my memory.
Awakening the side of me that I try and hide.
Solemn, serene, silent, content but lonely.
My old soul, so to speak.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
And there, I am someone new.
I am just myself.
Quietly.

Similarities.

In my short experience, everyone is exactly the same.
We all play games with each other.
Titillating each other with different mannerisims and conduct.
I'd to say that I'm as real as my own touch.
But that theory alone fails to adequately describe how touch feels and how real it is.
Next time you feel sad, step back from yourself.
For just a moment, and realize that sadness; (or any emotion for that matter) is just a part of the game.
I'm not sure if I'm the only one who constantly feels like their inside a shell.
Google -- Cold And Bitter Outlook On Everything.
(You won't find anything, but if I think this should pop up first.)

Each person has a code of behavior that is their... key.
Key to making them vulnerable, to triggering some sort of reaction -- This key is defined early in life.
Whether it be fixation on a certain stereotype situation, or parental guidence, it's predefined.
This is why they say that opposites attract, the behavioral reflection of both of the beings is predefining.
Some people just can't conform to the standards of one another, or are just too stupid.
Too often it is the latter, which is slightly disappointing, but somehow expected.
The dynamics to the system are quite bemusing at cursory glance.
It's scary how so many people can work and respond off each other.
And sometimes it's completely inexplicable how peoples dynamics change.
It's overwhelming trying to comprehend the difference instances.
My question, that I've been saving is simply, Why bother?
It seems to me that all of this is just complication on top of base thoughts.
It makes incredibly more sense to stick to being alone then subjecting yourself to such madness.
And yet we constantly fall into the same patterns constantly.
I'd love to say that I haven't or I don't, since I'm indignant towards it.
But it's happened to me time and time again.

I just don't get it.

Sleepless.

The irony of sweet caress, is that nothing truly matters.
Moments turn to hours to quickly, destroying those futile seconds.
But there is a hurricane behind those eyes.
Mesmerizing as they are, I can see slightly deeper.
Only slightly, as your mystery proceeds you.
But just enough to glance at that terrible storm.

"No one is really happy alone..."
Well, some people are I suppose. But being alone is really just a state of mind. Since being with someone else is an extension of their state of mind to yours.

I've come to a sad realization in these passing minutes.
That all attempts for forestall the change into my father have failed.
And that in the end I'm just as emotionally detached.
Not as you might believe that means.
I understand emotions, I have for a long time.
I emulate them perfectly.
Nothing really matters, is a quote that defines my character.
All moments, if you step back from yourself for a moment,
Really are just temporary. So why attach complication?
I wish somebody really knew me.
So they could tell me who I am.
Or who I was.
Or anything at all.

Take my soul away.

My demons and angels constantly wage war upon each other.
Some elders, others are newborn. They all have the same significance.
I've always been trapped square in the middle of this war. Lost and confused.
Nothing is ever really clear cut, and everything falls in the overlap.
(too tired to continue for now.)

Monsters.

We are the monsters that live in your head.
That gnaw on your thoughts.
That ravage the integrity of your decision.
We are the plague that infests the beauty of your life.
Corrupting everything about you.
Taking the emptiness and stretching it until it encompasses you.
We are, we are the monsters.
Sharp fangs, claws, red eyes.
We are the red eye behind your blue eyes.
That comes out only in still frame.
We are just under the skin,
Waiting for a paper cut release.
We are everything you wished you weren't,
You wished you didn't, You wished you couldn't,
We are your regret, and sorrow, and dissatisfaction.
We are.
We are.
Your monsters and you can't hold us back anymore.

Ghost Trails.

The beautiful part about being emotionally void is the ability to answer simply with "fine" whenever someone asks you if everything is o.k. and mean it.

They say that trauma is an everlasting imprint on your personality. It'll eventually start to shape it, if you're put through enough.

Have you ever looked through a camera when it had ghost trails turned on?
Everything leaves a light path. Well, lately thats what I see everything as. Just looking around, glancing around the room. Everything is leaving trails across my mind.
Kind of like the image is echoing, but slightly more in depth.

They call it, subliminal suicide. You participate in an activity that is extremely hazardous to your heath, because there is some part of you that wishes for death.

I spend so much time in my head, that it's getting harder and harder to focus on things. It's really quite a plague on my life. Having a photographic memory, means reliving every single horror story that you've witnessed every second that you allow it to happen. It means when everyone else's mind is quiet and asleep, yours is cranking away playing backwards and rewinding. It means insomnia. Permanently. It's a curse.

Everything burns a little brighter when you're dying.

Disconnected.

I've been narrating my own life for a long time.
Kind of like I've been going through the motions, but not quite there.
Like, I'm reading my own story from a book. Only with the most vivid realism no book could quite capture.

Come to think of it... Even as a child of 6. Surrounded by a ring of electronic parts. Wires. Batteries. Light bulbs. Microchips.
As I did things, in my "safe haven" I guess I'll call it, I would say everything I did, like I was telling a story.

For as long as I can remember, I always felt like their were two people in my head. Not in a schizophrenic manor though. My studies of psychology have thought me well I suppose. More as, like I said. One person was making the decisions, and the other was simply watching and narrating.

Everyone questions behavior. It's a part of being human. But their are certain activities in which people just do not question. They accept them as what they are, without further insight.

I have always felt disconnected from most other people because of this. Felt like the neurotic behavior that shares a common thread in everyone was slowly driving me off the edge. That each and every moment of it that I endure slowly eats away at my superiority. That some way, I had become infected by instinct. Something I swore to myself a long time ago, never to let take over.

--Instinct is something that lives inside us all. Base. Impulsive. No third layer thought process comprehends the full extent of instinct simply because it cannot understand the actions it indirectly poses. If the third layer fails, it simply defaults back to the base code. Also known as instinct. Thought evolution, by definition is the movement of a third layer thought process into base level thinking. Hence, completely modifying those "instincts" to call for more than just impulse. Making the host, smarter. --

If you watch people close enough, you can watch this actually take place. Interesting.

So. What's at the top of your brain?

Ending October. Starting November.

Tonight was a tough night to pick a topic for.
Too many things circling around in my head to really get anything truly right. But I'll try anyway.

Your weakness is my weakness.
Destruction in it's existence.
It eats at the underlying process of my life.
Destroying all that seems right.
I've watched you change.
Your ressurection out of your own impending death,
Always seemed so iminent.
Your own grave that you dug yourself.
And you were so ready to fill with your own flesh.
I'm tired of filling this hole with concrete.
And then watching, helplessly, as you blow it all away.
I've got the same scars.
Most hidden below the surface of my skin.
I wish all of you could see them. But theres too many, too complicated to explain.
I've been a savior for too many years. Don't be so vain.
I'm not Anybody's angel. Though I was yours.
I don't know who I am anymore.
Though I never really have.
I think thats the problem.
I've felt like No One for as long as I can remember.
It makes it really hard to realize that I just might be someone after all.
Don't you get it?
Set me free. Just becareful when you do.

I stood there.
At two seperate times.
I watched life get thrown away.
TOO MANY TIMES.
More than zero.
You'd think once was enough?
That I didn't learn the lessons of life.
Twice times the charm I suppose.
And how dare you of all people?
Of every single person on the planet?
The closest of close to myself.
And somehow that is better?
All that was, was selfish.
Just like the first time.
The beautiful irony that I never wanted to admit.
Selfish?
I miss you both.
I miss No One Formerly James.

I guess October really is the happiest time of year.

Beautiful Sunset.

What a beautiful sunset.
Right by the sandy coastline.
Small homes line the narrow streets.
The tide is high tonight.
What a beautiful sunset.
Shining over the water.
It's reflection mesmerizes.
The engine revvs high and roars toward water.
It pierces the fence with ease.
And hurtles onto the beach.
Soaring with machine grace into the water.
The engine is quiet now.
The fallen beast's master sits quietly.
Accepting fates hijacked control.
Water has come to steal the air from his lungs.
His eyes peer upwards. Finally.
What a beautiful sunset.

Realistic Position.

Tomorrow, everybody dies.
Yes, not extremely likely. But imagine it.

Imagine that some intelligent life comes to earth. Sees everything wrecked.
And makes inferences and educated guesses (just as we might've done had it been us.)

Now, imagine. You are a becoming an exhibit in a museum.
They are going to put you in a "realistic position" or doing some sort of activity.

Whats your realistic position? What would you be doing or saying or anything?
Think about how much you do said activity. How big a part of your life it is.
Now try and think for a moment, what your life and you would be like without that
item/activity? Post your answers and then I'll post mine.

The difference is submininal.

Catch the irony, if you might. Of the world we live in.
Just take a breath and smell it, so to speak.
Watch things that you find to be normal, and see your own abnormality.
People don't realize themselves sometimes, something I've learned and has been very much reinforced.
They don't realize how smart people really are, or how stupid.
I couldn't tell you how many times my vacant expressions have let people shrug me off as a non-thinking head.
Thats wonderful and all, but sadly they were wrong and played right into my game.
It's better, in my very shallow opinon, to think of most things in life as simply a game.
Not the important stuff mind you, but the mind-tactfulness of everyday life is fun to play around with.
Really test if people seem to notice themselves, try and give them a wake up call.
Think about a subconsious action, and watch it get corrupted by the consious mind.
Test this on other people.
We're all really the same, and if so than this theory stands for everybody.
Now really pick your mind to realize that, if this is true... Is the consious mind where errors occur?
The subconsious mind is an area were exactness seems to always prevail.
The subconsious mind is the driving force in learning and pretty much any day to day action.
So, is it really the consious or unconsious mind that we are trying to teach?
Good question don't you think?

Random Blather.

I sat for a long while with my I bar blinking in front of me.
Picking my brains to try and translate this music into words.
This music has been playing in my head, soothing shallow tones.
Just ones to keep me occupied when I'm doing a humdrum task, or bored.
I've been trying to translate this into words, so I can pass onto you the key to fufillment.
Is really just training your mind to do what it really wants.

I have a tendoncy of typing questionmarks at the end of my statements.
I have a tendoncy of dwelling too much on thought and a lot less on action.
I like to be called "Link" and "Old Soul" because they make me feel a little more like No One.

I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.

I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.
I suggest you grab that bottle, and pop that pill.
I suggest, I enforce, I watchfully wait for your response.

How would you even know what the sickness is?
I don't see you exhibiting the symptoms yourself.
Or maybe thats just my imagination flashing before me.
I live my live, like the captain of a sinking ship.
I'll do whatever I can to live it to the very end.
I won't abandon, Not for anything.
Don't tell me that you know how my life has been.
Don't say it like everybody else has, telling me what's going on in my head.
You wouldn't know, I don't think you were there. Not at my pivotal moments. Never.
I've done the best to stay afloat in this world of doubt, lies, deceit and destruction.
Not that that means anything to you.
I'm pretty fucking content if you'd like to know.
So scribble that down on your notepad. And sign your name at the bottom.
And give me the exit I'll never take.
Some people need this door, but I don't.
I don't know if I ever will.
But I know I don't need it now.
Thanks for the offer.

Cured.

God? Where has my inner voice gone?

You know that voice that narrates situations to you inside your head?
It's defiantly your own voice, usually satisfying or verifying your actions.
When you're alone, with people, or neither. (Good luck pulling that one off.) But regardless, it's always there. For some people it's subconscious. For others, it's a little closer to the surface. Usually, you'll hear what you wouldn't want to say, or perhaps just for the novelty of the situation; Randomness.
One day it's there, the other it's gone.

(UNFINISHED DUE TO DISTRACTION.)

Apostrophe.

They say insomnia will drive you crazy.
I believe that without a doubt in my mind.
More and more I find myself staring into the digital numbers 4:59AM.
I'm a slave to my own thoughts, as most insomniacs are.
My heart pounds inside my chest as more ideas enter my brain.
Waves and waves up them. Compelling me to get back out of bed and begin.
Time is of no worth in my room. The light from the new day does not come down. And is not welcome. My new day begins when I am quite ready, as my friends will often tell me.
I've battled with sleep since I was very young. Still I tend to lose, as sleep often escapes me. Leaving me awake and restless. Preying on whatever I can get my hands on.
The thoughts that will stir about at this time, are questionable even by my own standards. I do wonder if this "brain corruption" is really what's going on behind the scenes. And it's just rationalized by the outer shell starting to go off line.
I do wonder. And ponder. And think.
Stressing the already tired brain cells to rationalize the moments that pass.
They come up with nothing but this plausible writing.

"They" say that insomniacs are never really asleep. But never quite awake.
I believe this to be true as well.
There have been times where I've doubted that I was still awake. Even when the obvious signs are there.
I suppose it was the fact that, during the waking hours of the day, most people do not wish they were dreaming. I say most, very importantly, because I do know people who wish they were trapped in a dream.

Exhaustion is funny. All of your systems seem to go invalid. Your eyes zone in and out. Your nose tingles, though there is no further stimulation than before. Your stomach does not understand why or what is going on at all. And your mind accepts all of these now, because it itself is slightly broken down. This is the only time where I can cross the threshold of insanity for a while, and not mind all that much.

If I think back to when I started writing this, only 10 or so minutes before. I named this Apostrophe. If I try and rationalize this thought, nothing comes. However, apparently moments ago, I was able to. Now tell me, is it because my mind has fallen ever so more closer to insanity since that moment? Or is it because it has fallen out of insanity due to exhaustion?

I've been meaning to touch on the meaning of insanity for quite a long time, though I do not feel tonight is the best night to convey it to you. Expect it soon though.

Thirsty.

This moment is pure liquid. It runs through my fingers.
It splashes all over my body.
My body that has become one with my vehicle.
I've never felt so disconnected with myself and connected with nothingness.
I've never felt more satisfied and dissatisfied at the very same time.
The triple digits on my speedometer mean nothing at all.
Step into this liquid. Freeze-frame your life at high speed.
Theres no fear. No improbability.
It's just like chess. My moves are strategic. Calculated.
I couldn't tell you the perfection of the movement motion explosion.
But I do not shake. Not anymore. The adrenaline has become one with my blood.
This feeling is inescapable. My heart pumps acid.
My lungs tinge with readiness.
Step into this liquid. Step into this moment.
Step into this life, so close to death. And yet so far away.
Zen achieved.
And yet. I'm still thirsty.

In case you guys haven't been reading the comments on some of the posts...
You defiantly should.

"Animal I Have Become"

Ever notice what happens to people over time?
They change.

It's kind of hard to grasp, but for many different reasons their personality morphs.
Just remember that everyone is a product of their environment at this point. This includes family and friends. Thats pretty much the composition of people.

Too many people make the mistake of surrounding themselves with the same type of people. Instead of keeping a broad group with many different people. It'll help round you out a bit. You'll be more understanding, accepting and open. Think about it once in a while, and you'll realize your friends (and foes) have quite the influence on you.

I talked about this with my friends the other day. What would happen to you if you were completely isolated for a long time?

Would you forget how to speak?
Would the same final influences before your solitude continue to loop?
Would your instincts be the basis of your daily life?

Your direct influence would be your environment minus the interaction with other human beings... (Animals are not excluded..)
So still, you'd be influenced by a being(s). Would you inherit the animalistic ways of your environment?
My best guess is yes.

"The Good Left Undone"

"In fields where nothing grew but weeds,
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding now what I’ve been missing,

But I know…
So I tell myself, I tell myself it’s wrong.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.

All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.

Inside my hands these petals browned,
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
Returned this flower to the dirt,
So it can live. I walked away now.

But I know…
Not a day goes by that I don’t feel it’s burn.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.

All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long,
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.

All because of you…
All because of you…

All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
Inside these arms of yours.

All because of you,
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
No, not the kind with halos,
The kind that bring you home,
When home becomes a strange place.
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out."

Note: This isn't mine, but it's one of my favorite songs. I love the lyrics. They're worth the read. I promise.

I choose not to remain ignorant to my life.

And I will not allow myself to be corrupted like everyone else seems to be.

Oh wait.

Too late.

I've been corrupted long before they even sensed it.

So why is it that the world keeps turning?

Are these the tried and true methods of life?

I am horrible.

And so are you...

But I am far worse.

Worse is only a word and point of view.

Does that make it any less meaningful?

More than you can realize.

I guess this also answers the question about human definition.

That everything is just a method of defining life. Defining point of view. The only way that things can make sense.

I am far worse.

I am far worse.

I'm still trying to find...

free·dom
–noun
1. the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint: He won his freedom after a retrial.
2. exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3. the power to determine action without restraint.

Freedom. Something that so many people search for and extraordinarily few actually find. I've been searching my mind for so long for true freedom. So far I've found that a free mind is an impossible one. I asked friends of mine.

"Do you ever think there will be a single moment in your life that you are able to completely quiet your mind? Complete peace?"

Their replies were skeptical, and simply put. "Life is everything...But peace."

A free mind can solve any problem, escape any situation and do anything due to its extreme and rare clarity. You can tell me that your mind is free, but I do not believe you. Your layers of thought betray you, because just this statement is proof your mind is not free.

"Siddhartha Gautama, founder of Buddhism, was born in India 500 years before Christ. He began life as a privileged prince, but in his late 20s gave up his royal existence in the pursuit of enlightenment and spiritual awakening."

I suppose the Buddhists are on the right track. Their religion is all about finding mental clarity and peace with yourself. In an ideal world, they're awesome. Sadly, our world is nothing close to ideal. Also, Siddhartha must've been pretty close if any. He was able to give up royalty and an easier life for this quest. Regardless, I'm no advocate of religion.

Moving on.

"To work with changes now, in life: That is the real way to prepare for death. Life may be full of pain, suffering, and difficulty, but all of these are opportunities handed to us to help us move toward an emotional acceptance of death. It is only when we believe things to be permanent that we shut off the possibility of learning from change."

---Sogyal Rinpoche

Is death the only doorway to peace?
Or is peace the only doorway to death?
Or is peace the only true doorway to happiness?

Peace = Freedom. A simple equation.
When you've got nothing to lose or gain. You're free.
I don't think I'll ever find freedom.
And I don't think I care.

Fantasy (Reply)

Well, to begin. I enjoyed reading everyone's responses. Each thought out and well written.

To start, Heres the definition of Fantasy according to the dictionary.
1. imagination, esp. when extravagant and unrestrained.
2. the forming of mental images, esp. wondrous or strange fancies; imaginative conceptualizing.
3. a mental image, esp. when unreal or fantastic; vision: a nightmare fantasy.
4. Psychology. an imagined or conjured up sequence fulfilling a psychological need; daydream.
5. a hallucination.
6. a supposition based on no solid foundation; visionary idea; illusion: dreams of Utopias and similar fantasies.
7. caprice; whim.
8. an ingenious or fanciful thought, design, or invention.
9. Also, fantasia. Literature. an imaginative or fanciful work, esp. one dealing with supernatural or unnatural events or characters: The stories of Poe are fantasies of horror.

–verb (used with object), verb (used without object)
11. to form mental images; imagine; fantasize.
12. Rare. to write or play fantasias.

Pretty interesting huh? This definition tells us that fantasy is as well entwined with daydreams as it is invention. Also suggests that a daydream is in fact a psychological need. Strikingly weird, it also says that an ingenious idea can be a fantasy.

Now think of this question. "What's your fantasy?"
Is it a singular experience that you secretly long for?
Perhaps, your fantasy is to defy a physics constant?
Or maybe attain the heart of someone?

Fantasies in themselves, are both a weakness and a strength. Fantasies allow, like anonymous said a goal to strive towards. Even if, (Which not always) it is unattainable. They are what allow inventors, writers and dreamers to create what they do. The mind needs some element of fantasy for personally, my mind is not quenched so easily by what is available. It is always seeking nourishment from normal sources. That fantasy is a world in which we create to entertain and test ideas we would never dare venture towards in reality.
You say this is weakness, I disagree. Weakness is those who remain in a fantasy never to return to their true life. Fantasies are dangerous though, most times untamed. There have been many people not able to wake from their fantasies. Some stuck permanently within them.

Think about what you consider to be a fantasy.
Think about the people you know, and what their fantasy might be.

It has been said that to see someone's fantasy is to see into the true inner workings of their mind. Because, most minds strive towards their fantasy. So their actions have the undertone of this.

No one can truly be in touch with reality if they don't leave it from to time.
It helps to find the distinguishable line. A learned person has been to both sides of the war. Not only one. Journeying too far on either side, and you will be lost without chance.

Keep your mind open. And take the journey.

Fantasy.

Well...
I want you guys to anonymously post what you define the word fantasy as.
I've got a couple thoughts on this so make sure it's good.
I'll post my reply when I get 5 or more.

Mirror Mirror On The Wall...

Mirror mirror on the wall...
Can I ask you a question?

Am I really here?
Or is this reflection just an empty shell of where I used to be...

I guess you can't answer that can you.

It's true..
Sometimes I just look at myself in the mirror to make sure that I'm still myself.
Today I looked, and saw no one familiar.

Not that I've changed, but more to the effect that I never knew myself to begin with.

I looked into my friend's faces today.. Kind of letting them imprint my mind.
I felt sad. Sad because as life is inevitable tragedy. And I'm so tired of hearing tragedy. I guess I wished that life wasn't the way it is.. for any of them. And that happiness would always be there.

I am No One.

I'm writing this out of pure insomnia induced insanity.


Ever stop doing something, just for a second and wonder where your headed?
Very seldom, do I actually do this. Most of the time, I'm concerned with simply what is happening today and nothing more.
Maybe it's just my mental deformities that cause me to think in such a way.
Not to say that anybody really has their life paved out for them.
After all, we are all walking in the same race, though somehow I feel like I'm destined to come in last.
I'm completely o.k. with this.

I take the title of No One, because very seldom do I actually feel like someone.
As a whole person, I'm more composed of stories than I am experiences.
Like a ghost, that just happened to be around while these things were taking place.
Lost in limbo forever.

For a while this was just supposed to be unspecific writings not focused on my personal feelings. While still unspecific, focus has changed. And for this I apologize.

Reality is but a spinning cycle of events completely lost in a made up scale.
Ask me the time or date.
I'll bet you 8/10 chance I won't know it.

Why you ask?
Maybe I'm just stupid.
Or Maybe I'm playing a game with myself to escape from the tortures of our man made scale.

How old am I?
Not too old, and never old enough.
But not young either.
I'm just here.

Religion is one of those things thats supposed to put some structure in human life.
Think about it?
If you live completely abstract from society and rules than basically it becomes a life of anarchy you lead.
This makes making judgments a lot harder. You have no set of guidelines imposed on you to make sense from the experience. Your rules and guidelines become those that your environment has imposed onto you in your solitude. Truly could be anything.

With good intention became corrupt intention.
(And so corrupt intention has alerted followers of it's presence, and such has lost them.)

Structure has never been a friend to my life.
And yet I've never even rebelled to it.
It just never came along.
Everything, from this age has gone against those morals and rules that were imposed on me by my friends, family and leaders.
I live a life, not lead, but not leading either.

I'd love to think I've got a goals, but such goals have been fogged.
Them becoming a true possibility has been hurt by my apathy.

So I sit here, in this moment..
4:36AM frozen forever.
I'll awaken when I finally get to sleep.
Or maybe I won't, and I'll stay in dream land forever.
I sure do like it here.

I am No One.
I am the thoughts you choose not to allow to come to consciousness.
I am the hidden shadow behind your beautiful exterior.
I am the unaffected, unavailable and impossible.
I am not banished or welcomed.

4:36AM
I guess I will be asleep forever.

No ma__er people wi__ no_ mi__ m_.
My l_a____e_e o_ w___ g_ u_no_ti_ce_.
I ____ __ ____ __ ____.
_______ __ _______.

I'm not sure what changed that night, but the allure behind his actions wasn't as glimmering. Suddenly, I realized that he just like all of us. Corrupted. Stealing. Behind that seemingly good soul, there lies one much darker then all of ours. It's funny how one simple action can change your entire outlook on someone. And suddenly, you start to link them together. And they fall from their state of goodness onto the hard concrete of reality.

Stolen you say? Why not in the least. It's only stealing if your prey is aware of your actions.

Your immoralities beseech you to think differently than I do. But you are what you are a bandit. And that you shall remain.

Well, I'm glad you've come to this conclusion so quickly my dear friend. At last my thoughts are no longer incomprehensible.

But I've been you all along, so who truly is at fault here. Your thoughts are simply mine at different level. Two halves of one whole nothing.

Your contradiction has never felt more satisfying.

Correction.