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Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Unavowed


My dreams tend to fade away before I have the chance to chase them, burning into oblivion like the stars of ancient times. I just can’t…

”Look at me when I talk to you!”
Daydreaming again
Apparently, my imagination is destroying the powder puff world created for me by those who “love” me.

“Are you paying attention to what I’m saying"
Here we go, some more advice from another avid Seanist. Go on pull the wool and dump the sugar. Coat everything in the sweet denial that you learned to love.

“You should do this. You should do that.” Translation: You should sell your passion for convenience and never look back.
I’d rather turn to ash with a genuine smile than live a lie forever.
Face the facts you fear. I am not like you. I mourn for those who are.
For those who settle and fall in line, and the ones who die dissatisfied.
Everyone who conforms to the ways of sacrificial masochists; you get what you deserve.
But I can never tell you exactly how I feel.
You will judge and criticize. You will bitch about your life. You will tell me that your way is so much better than mine. When compared to your pain, my worries are unwarranted. I should just be thankful I have it so good.
Well, I say fuck what you believe and the fallacies you stand for.

“But Sean, don’t you want happiness? Don’t you want nice things?”
And sacrifice my heart? My spine? My voice and my soul?
Never.
I refuse to give up all the things that make me, me, that make me true. Every fucking piece of me that makes me different from you.

“All I want is to see you happy.”
In other words, come into the empty darkness where life is without purpose; where desolate hearts go to die and everyone is as hollow as the values they cherish. Come into a world where true emotions remain hidden behind plastic smiles and peace is but a pill away.
Fabricate your own destiny. I will suffer through mine.
Let me live a life where pain is frequent and tears burn like lit matches to my cheek.
Give me all the reality. Don’t mitigate my struggles.
My breath here is for but a moment. I refuse to stifle it.

“But Sean…”


“Sean.”


“Sean!”

Daydreaming again

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