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My Last June First

zeepolarbear — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 18:27:38 +0000

I was walking around in my school with the Monday-morning grumpiness I usually develop when suddenly someone reminded me – it’s my last June first.

Today next year I’ll be 18 and I’ll look at all of those lil brats that’re jumping and yelling around and maybe put a lil smile on my face.

As I think of it..I should’ve been more irresponsible, more irrational, in short – every adjectif that starts with ‘ir-’ still I can’t imagine myself that way either.

So what do I do? I spend my time depressing over the past, singin’ John Lennon songs and drink alcohol because of pure boredom.

Today, one year earlier, at least I spent it under the supervision of two morons that made me hate my 16 years on this Earth. And of course, now, I miss it like hell. Typically. I’m just like all of the others – complainin’ about everything I have so that I could complain more when I’ve already lost it all.

As it seems, it’s all like that in life. Even after billions of denials it all ends up with this conclusion – the only thing that keeps people alive isn’t revenge, nor greed, but the pure desire for the others pity. Whatever someone does or says or feels like he/she wants it to share, even if he/she realizes it or not. So he /she pollutes the world with his/her problems by being absolutely hypocritical by doing it.

In the end, who really cares what do you feel? Oh, like crap? Sorry, keep that thought, I gotta listen to that mazochistic drama of my mate there. Ah, dissapointed? Ah, well, désolé, now just fuck off.

Every artist sells his emotions. He lives by the business of his own problems and dilemmas. He makes the other’s lives be more dramatic. And me? I’m at least admitting this. With the bare hope for this to mean something to someone. What a drag. What a naivity. Maybe I’m still a child after all.

zeepolarbear — Sun, 31 May 2009 12:10:40 +0000

It’s one of the stupid questions that just force me to wish to be a guy to ear-rape someone:

‘Why is there a Parabol and a Parabola song in Tool’s Lateralus?’

Spare me, please..Or else, just be quiet for once..~

It’s one of the few times when I realize that even MY persona has bigger concerns than explaining something obvious to either lazy or just ignorant people. And then, once again – why the heck did I just uploaded this whole thing? No idea. Sleep is requested. And it’s requested right now.

The limit

zeepolarbear — Fri, 08 May 2009 18:21:20 +0000

There are no limits. Everyone is making them up. Is blindness a limit? What about an injury? A sickness?

It’s all about the fear of the unknown. The mind creates interpretations of the world which are mostly considered as absurd. Bullshit. A door can’t be a limit. A wall can’t be a limit. A mountain can’t be a limit. An ocean can’t be limit. A planet can’t be a limit. But a personal barrier surely can. The rational thought creates our limits. It’s all on the inside, not the outside.

If something’s impossible, then it’s probably the will that isn’t enough. If you run out of options it’s probably because you don’t desire to achieve your goals. Your limit should be the horizon, the sky, the other side of the rainbow…else, you’re admitting you’re just not worth it. And that you’ll never be. You’re just a big dissapointment – to the others, and mostly – to yourself. But it’s your choice.

30.04.2009.

Just passed me by

zeepolarbear — Fri, 08 May 2009 18:09:07 +0000

Today I spent exactly 34 minutes and 52 seconds staring at the clock on the wall on the other side of the room. I silently watched how the minute hand made its way through down the clock, then again, up. How it was chased by the second hand. How they both tryed to move the hour hand. Without much success.

I was thinking…what could I’ve done in this time? In this locked amount of something that could not be measured…at all? After all, we’re all drowning in it spending all of our short existences trying to get it into us. To control it. Because, in the end, if you control time, you control it all. But then…where would be the thrill of the thought to have screwed up every great possibility in your life?

I could’ve smoked a whole package of cigarettes. I could’ve written a genius story. I could’ve composed an unique song. I could’ve painted an emotional painting. Or…whatever. Still…I didn’t lift a finger and sat there, enjoying how the time past me by…But in this case, it was pure intention. Something rarely and highly unusual.

But what did happen in this world while I was focusing on wasting moments of my irrelevant existence? Someone got his heart broken, someone else fell in love, someone was losing himself in his prayers for a better life, someone lost his faith in humanity, someone got away from the right way, someone started to draw new paths, someone got caught while cheating, someone heard the best news of his life, someone betrayed his closest friend, someone got what he deserved, someone couldn’t take any of this any longer, someone died, someone got born. In short, the circle of life.

But what about those who spent this time imagining what others do? The only thing that could possibly make anyone different is his imagination. Even if he never shows it. Even if he won’t talk about it in any moment of his life. Still, it’s better than just to act. Or maybe not?

A human’s life…what is it? It’s just the moment between the past and the future, nothing less but also nothing more than that. And deal with it already.

08.05.2009.

La lutte

zeepolarbear — Wed, 06 May 2009 18:53:49 +0000

You look extremely pale today, he said.

It’s because of the lack of sun, she said.

Your eyes are so fatigued.

It’s because of the time I spent waiting for you.

You’re shivering.

It’s because of the excitement of seeing you.

Your hands are so cold.

I’m coldblooded.

You’re coughing.

I’m smoking way too much cigarettes, that’s all.

You’re losing every ability to focus.

I’m just overwhelmed with emotions.

Now, you’re coughing blood.

Well, it’s just all of the poison in my body that wants to get out and be purified, just to be worthy…to be in front of you.

No…You’re just…dying.

No, I’m just carving myself slowly and painfully enough into your memory so you won’t forget me. Never.

04.05.2009.

about the desperate battle of the people to get a special place in the memory of the ones they treasure the most. even if it’s not a special place but a simple niche…let it at least stay there forever.

in the end, a naive utopian wish.

zeepolarbear — Fri, 01 May 2009 05:53:04 +0000

‘Are you an idiot??’

‘I’m a dreamer!’

The mirror /the poet/

zeepolarbear — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 18:47:51 +0000

You really want to know what’s going on with your soul? Well, it’s pretty simple. Look in the mirror – the thing that you’ll see in it is nothing more or less than a fake, a self-denial for the society. Take off your clothes, cut off your hair, wash off your make-up, throw away your jewels, tear off your pride, break down your believes, forget about your dreams, screw your future. Now look into the mirror. What do you see? Your real soul. Do you like it? No? Well, it’s the perfect moment to change everything. To start from the beginning, to make the things you always wanted to do. Take some time for yourself so there won’t be such a weak and dying creature inside you. Any longer. Never again. Never.

02.2008

Overrated

zeepolarbear — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 16:37:54 +0000

Everything is overrated.

Pain is overrated.

Sadness is overrated.

Anger is overrated.

Love is overrated.

The independence is overrated.

The human’s consciousness is overrated.

The importance of the person is overrated.

No one deserves to know more than what he was been told. The sooner everyone realizes it the sooner the pink sunglasses will be taken off.

And despite all of that, the one thing we care about is the price. The price of the pain, the sadness, the anger, the love. We all want to know what would it cost to have our independence, a limitless consciounsness, to be important.

And we never think about the value of all of it.

28.04.2009

La crainte

zeepolarbear — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 16:24:05 +0000

Why am I not saying anything, you ask? My silence, it’ll save us both. If now we talk about whatever is on our minds, what are we going to do in 6 months, a year, a decade? By the time you leave me we’ll surely have been through all…just in our imagination. And then, how could neither of us be capable of returning into the reality, so grown old on the inside? We will have lived through the happiest and depressing, the most magnificient and the most terrible moments of our lives, even only in our conversations. We’ll have invented a new world, but either way it would have been just an illusion of two strangers.

And still, we both’ll be left alone…blown away by the cold wind of the monotone existence, all so melancholic and yet annoyed by it. We won’t get surprised nor touched by anything around us – only because we’ll have been experienced it already.

And yet, even by knowing this, you’ll leave me. So that you won’t feel the pain from the appearance of the marks that the time leaves on the outside. So that your heart won’t break twice…for your lost youth, for my lost beauty.

So, please excuse my fear and my intention to keep this ending away from us…even for a couple of moments. Just appreciate this one minute of silence.

22.10.2008.