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stereoleafi'm getting all pouty from seeing all the abandoned journals from both lj and dw- all left to gather dust. how is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
motherfucker176 doing now? what happened to keith's girlfriend (and has she really learned?) despite motherfucker176's .001% jealousy? and ok, fucking, fucking listen ok- did motherfucker176 keep her word and never got tired of her, and i quote, incredibly sexy boyfriend? ah, well. good for them. i can only hope that they are happier now. or still happy. what? i'm an absolute sucker for happy endings- the final and they lived happily ever after before the tediously long credits, y'know? what a cliffhanger, though.
this makes me think- would i ever abandon my journal, considering how spontaneous i am with my accounts. my identity is all over the place- plastered upon the sturdy walls of the internet are my names, my journals, my little stories, along with all the others- journals that are still drying the permanent ink, journals that have been forsaken. will i ever stop typing? will i exit chrome one day, save my unpublished entry thinking that it's time to count the sheep, and never post it the next day for the walls to hear? it's a terrifying thought. there is, after all, no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. i am perfectly fine with the internet- my lovely flist- to know about my midnight escapades and where i had misplaced my other sock.
"This is what we end up as. Years of living and ruling and finding people we love and all that’s left are words in stone."
crinklefries had such a way with words. by the way, it's from their fanfiction called knights of cydonia. it's always fascinating to read other people's stuff- even their fanfiction, it's like a reflective mirror. writing is an intimate form of art, perhaps one of the purest that rests next to music and everything else that's considered artistic. its vulnerability never fails to astound me. a brief dialogue- a paragraph- an entire page; they may all reflect what the writer feels about something. the world, maybe? maybe i am thinking too much. but if i learned one thing today- it's that everything alive deserves a chance to grow, and that it's not how long you live that matters. it's what you live for.
motherfucker176 doing now? what happened to keith's girlfriend (and has she really learned?) despite motherfucker176's .001% jealousy? and ok, fucking, fucking listen ok- did motherfucker176 keep her word and never got tired of her, and i quote, incredibly sexy boyfriend? ah, well. good for them. i can only hope that they are happier now. or still happy. what? i'm an absolute sucker for happy endings- the final and they lived happily ever after before the tediously long credits, y'know? what a cliffhanger, though.this makes me think- would i ever abandon my journal, considering how spontaneous i am with my accounts. my identity is all over the place- plastered upon the sturdy walls of the internet are my names, my journals, my little stories, along with all the others- journals that are still drying the permanent ink, journals that have been forsaken. will i ever stop typing? will i exit chrome one day, save my unpublished entry thinking that it's time to count the sheep, and never post it the next day for the walls to hear? it's a terrifying thought. there is, after all, no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. i am perfectly fine with the internet- my lovely flist- to know about my midnight escapades and where i had misplaced my other sock.
"This is what we end up as. Years of living and ruling and finding people we love and all that’s left are words in stone."
crinklefries had such a way with words. by the way, it's from their fanfiction called knights of cydonia. it's always fascinating to read other people's stuff- even their fanfiction, it's like a reflective mirror. writing is an intimate form of art, perhaps one of the purest that rests next to music and everything else that's considered artistic. its vulnerability never fails to astound me. a brief dialogue- a paragraph- an entire page; they may all reflect what the writer feels about something. the world, maybe? maybe i am thinking too much. but if i learned one thing today- it's that everything alive deserves a chance to grow, and that it's not how long you live that matters. it's what you live for.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-05 09:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-05 06:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-05 11:47 pm (UTC)