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outcry, now I use this as a freedom, a freedom to write whatever is on my mind or crosses my mind, ... then, a freedom to act without fear of criticism, without needing to pay attention to criticism, without evaluating what I am saying, without spell - checking, without editing, ... please excuse me... for the misuse of words...
for incongruence, incoherence please forgive me... for I have committee a sin... in my bible... in my head... with my bare hands...
I regret saying I because now I am trapped into this image which is provoked by the thoughts you entered the room with... the glare of the screen... does it shine... no, not at all... does it pierce the sky like hope... no it forces him, probably a fat, bald male, to squint his eyes, body sweating in the basement of someone else's home...
I don't know... I feel as if I can say no more due to whatever... due to I want to make that good first impression... due to the fact that I think that this guy, who you still do not know, is not me, is not ever going to be me... yes, I just stayed here, or there, for a few days... 3 minutes of sunshine in work breaks and play breaks and snack breaks... etc...
do they know what I speak of? ... do they have a clue? ... do they hate me? /... are they leaving? ...
am I paranoid? ... am I having a nervous breakdown (did I? , will I? )... what is goin on? ... what is the reason for anything? ... now I am just wasting your time...
no poetic ness (if there is such a thing, maybe I am rebelling against it) will not be found (or will it? )... I keep trying to entertain, ... what the fuck is this black hole sucking me down... now, ...
you see. something must be finding its way out of the grasshilss in my mind... and what is going on... I ask for I would like to know did I say I was hungry... did I say there was work to do... papers piled upon a desk...
papers organized in the order in which I would do them if I ever were to do them... fuck... efficiency has been ruined... when will this end? ... what am I talking about? ...
what is every question referring to... this guy is a jackass (I want to make a cd called pretentious and read the listener's criticism)... oh no... I am running out of jokes or something, , , or out of interest... I have a weblog... but there were no comments...
no hate mail, no love mail, no anthrax... maybe I did something wrong, ... but what is there to wrong... some people would never consider what I have done as bad, as evil, as wrong... maybe little boys with sunny clouds withing their heads would form different ideas and who are the purest souls anyways? ? ? ? ? ...
who is the authority? ... what is wrong with this? ... the reason is that I cannot live with it... , , , I must live with what I have done... but I do not have to continue...
the day is day 1... it started at 7 or so when I made a final goodbye, ... as much of the lasting records were erased, ... I want to wash up, wash off, get rid of the stench, the uncleanliness (? ), the liquid, the thoughts, the after - effect...
everything, pain, in retrospect... and in that moment of camera flicking bliss and lens watching joy... and all those childish toys, ... and and... and... and...
I say I must quit... and I am saying it again. , ... and it is the second time I say it today... in this publicized form... ohhh... your time is ticking...
am I... I am? ... writing in riddles... could everything be so carefully crafted? ? ? ? ... are these typos, mess ups incidental...
this is a commentary on myself... if you have lost interest at this point you are probably like me... what education do I have? ... what gives me the right to talk? ? . , ... (freedom of speech, a feeble answer out of a voice echoing in a hollowed stomach) ... why would they listen? ... do not preach...
oh no... do not be Bono or Mel Gibson... for they are worst of all... and shit! ! ...
I just made a current reference... which means this may not be read in the future... and... I just shared which means I lost another demographic... and I am now floating off topic...
but my grasp is truly firm on top of it... I am just avoiding it... telling myself there are not rocks at the bottom... I hope I am not lying... I talked in sly smiles to people I paranoiacally talked to (trying to entertain them with charm or personality, ending up talking too much about myself; exuding narcissism... or many other things happen; I regret any thing I said if I take time to read it over)...
I hope this is an introduction... no, I truly do not... I was at a lost for words at a second... no, this must be too long to be a permit is ugly... and thus it is art, whatever art is and is not...
for it portrays this ugliness which I love for brief periods of time... and I cannot bring myself to say it but maybe you already know... and I want to "kick it, quit it " and I will end it... end the essay / poem / writing ...
and I will end this addiction, ... I WILL END THIS ADDICTION I WILL END THIS ADDICTION I WILL END THIS ADDDICTION...
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Research essay sample on End This Addiction Addiction I Will End Time
