Chevelle - Closure.
I like.
Shu at 11:55 PM
37.9 degrees celsius. Shit. I'm burning up.
Shu at 6:37 PM
ENFP - "Journalist". Uncanny sense of the motivations of others. Life is an exciting drama. 8.1% of total population. |
Shu at 11:32 PM
Ang, you're the bestest friend anyone could ever have. I don't know how to put into words what I felt after having read that really touching entry of yours, but the bottomline is, if I ever needed anyone to talk with, to laugh with, to cry with and even to just sit in silence and enjoy the smallest moments with, it'd be you. Don't ever doubt your worth in my life because it's just immeasurable. I don't know what'd life be like without you carrying me through with your uniqueness. You know how I treasure that characteristic ;) Hahah. Be yourself kid, because I would not leave you in times of trouble. We never could have come this far. I took the good times, I'll take the bad times, I'll take you just the way you are. :)
Shu at 10:44 PM
Ahaha. Got this in the mail. Check it out and turn up yer speakers ;] Click Meee.
Shu at 6:10 PM
"Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess-players do. Mathematicians go mad, and cashiers; but creative artists very seldom. I am not, as will be seen, in any sense attacking logic: I only say that this danger does lie in logic, not in imagination. The general fact is simple. Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea; reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite. The result is mental exhaustion..To accept everything is an exercise, to understand everything, a strain. The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits."
Shu at 1:31 AM
The Men That Don't Fit In
There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who wins in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.
He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life's been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
He's a man who won't fit in.
Ohh, the wanderlust.
Shu at 11:43 PM
You know, sometimes knowledge hurts. Especially the kind of knowledge that only you apperceive. The weight of such knowledge can get too much for you to bear alone at times, and you know how it is when people talk about how easy it is to share your problems and all, but the thing is, not everyone sees things your way, in your perspective. I only share my problems if I want a second opinion on them or if I want some form of comfort from those whom I confide in, but what do you do if you don't need a second opinion because you're so sure of root of the problem, and comfort from confidantes might not be forthcoming because loyalties might be called into question? You do what you have to do - suck it up and carry on as per normal, or rather, as normal as you can get when you have a depressed mood overshadowing your usual thoughts and actions. But God, I never thought it would be this hard.
Shu at 12:21 AM