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The_Purple_Duck
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Name: Carol
Birthday: 3/24/1992
Gender: Female
Interests: Writing mediocre songs, playing mediocre songs, putting my creativity into objects, trees, thunderstorms, talking with close friends until 2 in the morning, looking at the stars, watching old movies, hearing a good song on the radio, drawing all over my wall with Sharpies, quotes, lyrics, profound and ironic thoughts, photography, different perspectives, spontaneous and illogical humor.
Expertise: Being me. Awkward, redundant, earnest, passionate, and honest.
Occupation: Face
Industry: In the crowd
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
MSN: carol.clayfreak
Member Since:
12/31/2005
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| Seven thousand years welling up inside of me / Seven thousand tears that nobody ever sees / Take our turns to lie / Take our turns to cry / Nobody ever knows the reasons why / Cast me upon the water / Watch me float away / Your life gets heavier / With every passing day / Seven thousand words taking up all those letters / Seven thousand feelings hopefully changing for the better / Standing to the side / Letting you crawl by / If only this could fit into a sigh / Cast me upon the water / Watch me float away / Your life gets heavier / With every passing day / Write it down / Fold it up / Let it go... | | |
| Writing screenplays is much, much harder than writing stories. Is forcing something better or worse for creativity? I would lie on my bed with my head upside down to get some ideas rushing to my head with all the blood, but my sister is in there, and would probably ask what the hell I was doing. | | |
| Words built up inside her mouth like an overflowing dam. Sooner or later it would burst under the pressure. Something unpleasant would sooner or later escape her lips. Poisoned, disgusting, sour sentences that could burn the surroundings like acid. Would going to the root of the problems, her brain, diffuse the sickness? Could there be a vaccine for this cancerous growing impudence? If only she could go back to when there was innocence. When the fault of such awful words only lay with the dirty surroundings. But now, now the fault lay within her. She was the disease. And if she wasn't careful, the right words could contaminate those she loved, all too easily. | | |
| She waited... Deftly staring into the black abyss before her. Some spoke of the vastness as though it was a child's plaything, while others told of it as a mysterious and sacred void. Such a think so vastly interpreted in so many different ways was so intimidating! How would she interpret the blackness before her? Did the feeling she had now have anything to do with what lay in the great beyond? And what was on the other side? The mystery of it thrilled her and terrified her. Was she even ready to face it? Was the time right, or would this be something she would deeply, deeply regret? The concept of a deep regret was so frightening; so terrifying. The fear of making a horrible mistake that could shift her entire world with one touch, with one word. One simple, small movement that could set her universe aflame. It was like looking at a cigarette lighter through a microscope. Something small in size becomes so awesome and spectacular when drastically up close. Ah, perspective, thy name is notion. Thy name is lack of motion. Only one way to see things is through a stationary gaze. Move one inch, and all shifts into an entirely new angle. 2D to 3D to 2D again; a 1D mind breaking down a 4D universe. Living inbetween dimensions, swinging on a thread of time, waiting for it to break. A crack that collapses universes and galaxies. | | |
| Man, I feel so alive this week! Sure, I've been running off and on for the past couple months, but I've never tried switching off biking and running every day. It's AMAZING! My mind seems to have been reawakened as well as my body, and I feel positively wonderful. Sure, my legs are really sore, but who the hell cares when I feel so renewed and happy for once!
I also discovered something today. Just for fun, and for purposes of self-discovery/psychoanalyzing, I drew a picture of who I used to be, and who I want to be. Then I drew a picture of who I am, and realized, those three people I drew are so different! One is black and white and gray and artsy. But boring and somewhat depressed. (Something I have been lately) Then the other picture I drew was full of color and the girl was smiling and dressed all cool with her new dreads, being silly and flirty. (Which surprisingly made me sick) Then, when I combined the two I came up with how I felt today. In the middle, but a good middle. The center of finally finding SOMETHING out about myself that I actually... Well, love. Someone who is confident but not shallow, nor too deeply drowning in thoughts. Someone who wears what she wants, and doesn't care what other people think of it. Someone who knows she is loved, and knows how to love. That is who I want to be. And, as I was so excited to find out, that is who I am becoming.
Of course none of this would have been possible without God. Though I haven't been praying fervently as of late, these runs and bike rides of mine make me feel so much closer to him. And I guess the closer you get to him, the closer you get to yourself, if that makes any sense.
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