Archive for November, 2008

The first day of masturbation and snow

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique with tags on November 20, 2008 by Randomique Jester

I feel uneasy.

I’m not entirely sure why standing my ground is hard to stomach.
All these arguments, in the search of righteousness bore me to death.
I’m swept away with the current, regardless of whether I wish to be or not.
I’m an insignificant pebble, opposing, but too weak to hold on to my own ground.
The mass and strength of the waters dislodge me from my set beliefs; until, surely, I’ll be lost at sea.

I’ve developed this analogy quite nicely?
Now I wish I could fucking put my bored prose to my pseudoscience essay.

The first day of snow, loneliness and melancholy.
Brings back memories that tell a story of the past, future as well as present.
Only because I’m in a status quo, my melancholy never changes.

I understand, how late this came to me, that I am utterly alone.
Misunderstood; whoever can pretend best to know what the hell I’m feeling –
in a well of stupidity in which i’m drowning I reach out to those who don’t know how to save me but try anyways, giving me false hope.

A superiority complex is a dangerous thing to have; especially when you’re unfulfilled each day of your life.
I’ve searched for a sign for so long, in all the wrong places.
I don’t know where to turn.

I’m sorry if you can’t relate after you’ve deciphered my scribble.
I’m sorry you can’t decipher it at all, leaving me unattached and unrelatable.
I am cold.
No wonder I’m attracted to a sadistic ideal of beauty and perfection.
AS a perfectionist, I’m never satisfied with what the world has to offer.
I will tolerate nonchalance over dramatic bullshit of other people.
I much prefer being violently raped than pathetically adore.

Why do I ask why if I am the only one who can answer my won questions?
Who is this hypothetical ‘you’?
I thought I’ve found you but I am still looking for you.

I am free to be myself in the darkest cave.
None of you know what the fuck I’m saying anyway.

I don’t know,
isn’t that a surprise ending?

I simply don’t know where I’m going with this,
why should you?

does anyone understand?
but do you care?
but do you really?
do you really understand or are you pretending to know who I am?
I need to know,
because you knowing me might help me find out who I am.

the happy you are the more miserable you are.


Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on November 19, 2008 by Randomique Jester

Is it possible for your stomach to crave music, miss it instead of your mind?
Is it possible to have a life so ironic?
Is it reasonable to hate yourself for something that you love?
Is it fair to suffer at the hands of your own fate?

Is it logical, that I crave the attention but make sure to hide myself from the world?
Why is it, that my only voice is the written word?

I don’t make sense. What else is new?
I wish to find happiness in my solitude, not to socialize myself, or do so with others.

I’m disgusted by the cliches I readily produce… and the only way to be ingenious is to read and reread others’ cliches.
Irony, is the key word here.
The theme of my life.
I wonder if I would deal with any ones death the same way I dealt with my grandfather’s?
Crying under the table at 16; Throwing tantrums; laughing; Suppressing; Forgetting completely.

It’s repetitive. My way of dealing with everything my perception finds too boggling and threatening.

I have so much hate in me, that’s bottled up to erupt any second now; to pour and cover, inevidabely, everyone.

Pointless. I live from weekend to weekend.
I’m not satisfied. There’s a spark of happiness that passes quickly and I am lost again.
I’m missing nothing, yet I am incomplete.
Risky nonsence suddenly makes sense to me; as if I wanna die.

Help mes in the dark.

Life kicks me in the face;
it tells me what I loathe to hear:
here is what you want
here is what you need
And my body,
it gangs up against me;
limbs and headaches, cells and nose bleeds
gushing, rushing
When my mind is numb
my love for idols
and hate for self
the God within me;
breaking free,
creating what I accept
And what I won’t see.
And the Music,
my only fluid conscious
the only train of thought
In a chaos of nonsence.

And when I finally come to realize,
Staring into my own two eyes
– Straight and hard,
When my mind fails to reason
It’s only then I start,
Turning to the logic of my heart.


Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique with tags on November 14, 2008 by Randomique Jester

I should be working.

But I can’t make myself…
Procrastination is one of my numerous sinful indulgences.
Such as food, I discovered.

I never though I’d end up like one of those women on Dr. Phil, talking about eating their feelings.
I don’t even like food most of the time. Unless it’s good and then I’m forced to binge it like a hungry somalian in case this is the last time i eat something good.
And it is the last time, for that week.
My weekend is an all out feast, my week is a constant fast…
But lately I’ve had money so I was tempted on taking myself out to random movies and sushi.

I actually bailed on seeing some old ‘friends’, so i can watch a movie alone.
I’ve redefine the word “sociopath”.

What’s wrong with me?
It’s not that I don’t miss this closeness with people, the good ol’ friends I had back there… but,
my antisocial behaviour is a habit now.
I’m actually fine being alone… but on the other hand, i’m not fine with being fine about being alone.
if that makes sense?!

I saw some friends yesterday and it was incredible fun!
I laughed, I was funny, I was me!
Fuck, I’m charming.
They were on the edge of their seats to hear a stupid story of mine.
and it felt good, b/c that doesn’t happen very often…
That connection… I miss it.
And pointless online chatter could never make up for that.
Yet, I don’t want to sound desperate and overbearing.
I’m not shy or awkward around people, I just don’t know how to maintain a relationship with s/o who is not completely in love with me.
I’m a leo; I’m too proud to chase people, and I often feel neglected so I stop trying.
Then I’m alone.
And I feel unaccomplished, uninspired.
And then, being a hermit and a genius (and modest!), I get used to it.
Recondition myself. I’m ok with it.

Can I turn back time? On all my horrible habits?
I’m constantly inspired, but where is the long term motivation I’m looking for?
Everything is pointless…………………………

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on November 12, 2008 by Randomique Jester

Ah, at last: me again.

Will you posts this on Facebook as well?

This is the pity collection agency, you have the following amount due…

I keep on coming back don’t I?
To the solitude, the insanity the randomness…

“Little did she know, years later, the same nick name she conjured up one eventless night would come back to haunt; moreover, it would precedent her entire life as ‘the girl who wasn’t there’.”

This is a gold mine, folks. If I interest someone enough to stalk me, all these little clues could be pieced together and my carefulyl crafted aliases online could be detected and pieced together, like that!
I’d be flattered if someone went through all that trouble though; even if they murder me at the end.

Names. Are they precedents of our lives?
I mean, come on. My name is horrifically ironic enough as it is.
And it wouldn’t be if I never moved.
Why did I?
Why does anything happen?

Fate? I entrusted full responsibility in fate when I was a child.
A lot of things I thought, or knew, or thought I knew as a child were so much more concrete than they seem now.
Did I deteriorate? Do I overcomplicate? Is my mind so open to all possibilities that all knowledge becomes obscure and falsifiable?

Perhaps and Maybe, are my only answers.

I’m confused bored, scared.
What else is new?
Fear, rules us all…

I will be free to do anything only if I’ve lost it all.
Now I have too much too lose to try to gain something that’s so out of my reach.

I will not dare to try… God I’m killing myself this way;
I’ve never been more lost.
Physical disorientation is preferred. When I got lost it was my fault, control and blame was in my hands. Reality is now, gone, out of my hands. Everything is but a memory until I set my gaze on what’s in front of me.
I am not satisfied.
This is my concrete reality.
I have, these physical things, but I am not satisfied.
I wake up with a sadness, with a yearning that can’t be filled with the things I buy or eat.
A giant Bermuda triangle in my soul.

The solution is obvious, but suppressed in the back of my head.
I am too scared to do it… I don’t need rejection right now, I can’t take it.
Don’t make me.

I’m better than you.

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on November 6, 2008 by Randomique Jester

I was tempted to pursuit that innate desire for attention.

Temptation had won.

Will I do everything to please, and thus to disprove myself in my own eyes?

I am afraid of hypethetical demons.
I beat myself down to the point of humility, when I should proclaim, as you all do,
I am the greatest.

I am better than you; and the only reason you hate me is because you think like me,
talk like me- you are like me (only in physical form) and the only difference that seperates us is how we define each other;
not as human beings but according to animalistic nature.

Survival of the fittest, never meant the strongest.
Mind over matter, bitch.
But, how convinient for you to misinterpert, if you like what you think you’ve heard.

I am better than you; and I am more subjective, when I compare us.
In fact, I favour you in my jaxtoposition, because I hate me so much more.
I’m sorry to be appologetic, but your intellectual skills don’t impress me.
If you hang on to your IQ you’re nothing but the simplistic method that calculated it.
Your way of thinking is pathetic; philosophy goes beyond physics the same way I surpass you.

Why would I be ashamed to have offended you?
Why would I waste time on a debate?
Your stance would be “the louder you are, the more right you are”
while my superiority complex silently boils over.

I blame me; when I should be blaming you. Again, overcomplicating, pressuming you can’t be blamed for not knowing what you do.

Show me you’re deeper than a puddle of mud;
instead, you bore me, but this boredom fascinates me to the point of stalking.
Stalking you is a form of masochism.

What is it like to be stupid? Careless, feeling omniscient because you’re oblivious to how insignificant you really are?

“What is it like to sit alone at lunch?
-It sucks.”

If I had a licensee to kill, you’d never contaminate my world with your ignorance.

But then again, without you, I’d be incomplete.
You feed me with anger (with anger comes action, reflection, redemption),
with revelation (with revelation comes understanding),
with a feeling of injustice (that builds my own concepts of what just is)
and finally with acceptance and satisfaction that I am better than you.

And without you, I’d never know.