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Surrealism
Surrealism
A small, tan coloured book, completely unadorned. The binding is worn and aged, the pages slightly tattered and curling towards the edges. Several small notes peek out here and there from between the sheaves of parchment and pieces of torn blue silk mark places within.
Tuesday, 04 September 2007


Why do I feel like I have been played for the fool? What has made me so suspicious of the truth in words? On all sides I feel ...I do not know what is true and whats lies people think I want to hear. People are so quick to say things, ..I dont want to be this person, this perosn tht questions whats bee nsaid...that wonders whether there is any truth in it. I dont want to be jaded. I want back the innocence that gave me the ability to take everything at face value, for purely what it was. I dont want to overthink things anymore.

I have never heard him speak to me that way, with such disdain in his tone. Is that what he is really thinking? Is that how little he thinks of me?

I am so scared now, that I will never trust again...that I will never fully and truly believe things. That I will never have the depth of love or anything. I will always be slightly removed, never truly feeling. In essence I will never be truly happy, because my sceptical nature prevents it. How did I become this...shell?

I want something pure, no lies, no honeyed words. I dont want to hear what people think I want to. I want the pure unmitigated truth, whether I like it or not. I want the hard bits, the things that I know will hurt but at least will seem real, not like lies. I want to know what people are really feeling or thinking.
Celestia posted @ 05:12 - Link - comments
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