entfall @ 2011-02-10T00: 40:00
After I - partly out of convenience, partly because I was simply not a very good mind me mentally and emotionally involved again so intense with my hazardous waste sites must be - the careful revision of my journal now pushed for so long before me was that it was long overdue, it is now finally done. And that was really an act, with fun had little to do. The
me now has become the most annoying messages I've already deleted a while ago, or roughly vorzensiert / edited, this time were the subtleties of it.
was Eliminates means all that I now simply become too unbearable, and which I have therefore not felt too well - and there was a frightening amount of amazing how much rubbish you can write. But well, that too is me.
rather have him think me some extremely ambiguous passages of old records whose release I find in retrospect as a rather delicate. In part, I have removed whole paragraphs, sometimes at fomulieren trying to understand. Even though I identify myself with many no longer can, so I've included some of the apparently taken place in spite of all redundancy development (which I own only through re-reading has become so much) to distort it, so are the old entries to read in places still imply that my present life no longer reflects reality. A (also content) has undergone a complete renovation, only the very first entry that came to me in his old form at all any more. Of certain contaminated sites have or will at some point but I just separated completely.
Past Faithful is therefore not more largely given, but that's me on the net also rather less, the place for it is in the private sector. It may anyway no one really understand what I wrote when and how (let alone whether stories from my past actually correspond to reality), and is it really so important?
My humanity is more of a dynamic - changing personalities are not set in stone and count it in the meeting basically only the present, no one is alone to nail down his past.
carry such and such documents replace only certain parts of a human being and never the whole picture or the overall impression. Language is deeply dependent on interpretation, but thus undermines any communication has two filters - that of the formulated, and that of the recipient. If you are lucky and a similar language and emotions is the distortion while still low, but the more experience and expression worlds drift apart the bigger it becomes.
As for my journal, there are days when I take the whole thing on the net would fully love, but the atmosphere is very dependent. Ultimately, no one forces me so to me, so public to ask''to show''that is my decision alone. But I have, if I'm honest with myself, to hide the effect actually not really. In my decision for an authentic life that is only one possible logical consequence. I'm just living so and so must also - ultimately is it me with many things, just simply not care if it's the people know of me or not what they do with it is indeed their cause and for me, this changes nothing as she wants, and I can easily hide and not always just, that's me too strenuous. In addition, I have it enough for me to . Ashamed Point.
It's definitely a good way to work on it. More to center in itself.
an interesting side effect was my journal overhaul after all: It has become only really aware of what I am for mental abyss because some actually go through and why. And me are the many, many reps have noticed that allow exactly two conclusions: a) my vocabulary is pretty limited dependent (certain distinctive terms are subject to a census in the two-digit) and b) my life's just rather ereignisarm (note the constantly recurring themes) - both perhaps not exactly uplifting, but very true. What the heck. This is what hold out my reality, welcome.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Itchy Breasts Symptoms Menopause Toothbrush
(Expected) Last Post
I'm tired, here breitzutreten my life! As I now mitgekriegt yes, comments are written anyway unless it comes to my ex to stop! If I'm told by beautiful things, says it has no pig!
But who is really my friend can, so talk to me or does the things that I would tell here, anyway, with me - everyone else can keep me stolen!
I'm tired, here breitzutreten my life! As I now mitgekriegt yes, comments are written anyway unless it comes to my ex to stop! If I'm told by beautiful things, says it has no pig!
But who is really my friend can, so talk to me or does the things that I would tell here, anyway, with me - everyone else can keep me stolen!
Monday, February 7, 2011
Cubefield Level 10 Game
entfall @ 2011-02-08T04: 06:00
And then there are those moments that can not be grasped in words, its cool filigree and fragility as when catching snowflakes melt away.
When it is dark and quiet, well after midnight. Orange light outside, blue inside without drowsiness and fatigue. And in this beautiful unspoilt way only if one is alone.
noise Affairs: memories, sense fragments, fragments of thought, you could sink into infinity. Nothing, nobody. Only one self-Image, which you must present or should, wants to not be fulfilled expectations and commitments. Only at night. Probably only in those abandoned moments can be comforting loneliness - with the right music is the yearning never more beautiful.
Just because one has to learn and is not perfect (in thought and in feeling and not also generally not), it does not mean to be scum. Rankings are always, always, always subjective, you know that. Do you collect your own experience.
What you need, all inhibitions and inhibition, may allow defiance must learn, is a valve for the tensions - something that really is good to flow out and let alone just for you is. You are not dependent on love, if you can love yourself.
heart to the rhythm of falling and floating.
self prudence ... Departure and search and vitality in me and through me alone, once, really quite to feel resolved, the wild and distant birds alike. No one will understand you
ever quite, no one will ever quite understand you - in the end we are and remain all alone, but why it's bad, but if we care for ourselves and we meet at various levels can ? If I know there is nothing left, except myself, is the sense of awareness incomparable.
for me and I actually really important. Because so much in fact is so ridiculous ...
The world and its people fall into your hands like sand stone, trickle through into the void between your fingers and what remains is an impression that an echo - like a drop of blood on snow, reaches for more, into the water falling corn that grows in circles. Bouncing blur expand, pass away. And from then stamped inside.
A longing which can thus cause only the absence of something that never really was there. Insatiable. The shudder-making soul-grazing whiff of something untenable, the water whipped up yet then back away until he is long gone, passed. Never enough of it to inhale.
Gliding on drowsiness, get drawn in apathy and against the wall feeling drunk.
You're so close, so un-graspable close, only those shimmering translucent wall between us, to us (like everything and everyone, the order itself and the white) separated - and you see do not know nothing of it because you do not want it. Perhaps these are only illusions, only dreams and a cocoon (mine, in the case) crazy brain (perhaps just inflamed already burning, they sing-scream) - How real is reality - and why should I I worry about something that is just as true as the space which I give him?
[And reason alone I call myself omission to this sentiment's sake.]
In the blackness I'm just disappears and everything else fades into the nothingness. And then you listen, the whispering sound of the driving current.
have the 'I have so written in about two years ago, in autumn or early winter, and it could be by now. Repeats itself simply everything, takes his seemingly endless circles. This time, too. Writing triggers and word choice are almost identical, unintended, unconscious - until just now. Is
the laugh, cry or both, or nothing? I think I'll take nothing.
For this moment - - -
And then there are those moments that can not be grasped in words, its cool filigree and fragility as when catching snowflakes melt away.
When it is dark and quiet, well after midnight. Orange light outside, blue inside without drowsiness and fatigue. And in this beautiful unspoilt way only if one is alone.
noise Affairs: memories, sense fragments, fragments of thought, you could sink into infinity. Nothing, nobody. Only one self-Image, which you must present or should, wants to not be fulfilled expectations and commitments. Only at night. Probably only in those abandoned moments can be comforting loneliness - with the right music is the yearning never more beautiful.
~ * ~
Just because one has to learn and is not perfect (in thought and in feeling and not also generally not), it does not mean to be scum. Rankings are always, always, always subjective, you know that. Do you collect your own experience.
What you need, all inhibitions and inhibition, may allow defiance must learn, is a valve for the tensions - something that really is good to flow out and let alone just for you is. You are not dependent on love, if you can love yourself.
heart to the rhythm of falling and floating.
self prudence ... Departure and search and vitality in me and through me alone, once, really quite to feel resolved, the wild and distant birds alike. No one will understand you
ever quite, no one will ever quite understand you - in the end we are and remain all alone, but why it's bad, but if we care for ourselves and we meet at various levels can ? If I know there is nothing left, except myself, is the sense of awareness incomparable.
for me and I actually really important. Because so much in fact is so ridiculous ...
The world and its people fall into your hands like sand stone, trickle through into the void between your fingers and what remains is an impression that an echo - like a drop of blood on snow, reaches for more, into the water falling corn that grows in circles. Bouncing blur expand, pass away. And from then stamped inside.
A longing which can thus cause only the absence of something that never really was there. Insatiable. The shudder-making soul-grazing whiff of something untenable, the water whipped up yet then back away until he is long gone, passed. Never enough of it to inhale.
Gliding on drowsiness, get drawn in apathy and against the wall feeling drunk.
You're so close, so un-graspable close, only those shimmering translucent wall between us, to us (like everything and everyone, the order itself and the white) separated - and you see do not know nothing of it because you do not want it. Perhaps these are only illusions, only dreams and a cocoon (mine, in the case) crazy brain (perhaps just inflamed already burning, they sing-scream) - How real is reality - and why should I I worry about something that is just as true as the space which I give him?
[And reason alone I call myself omission to this sentiment's sake.]
In the blackness I'm just disappears and everything else fades into the nothingness. And then you listen, the whispering sound of the driving current.
~ * ~
have the 'I have so written in about two years ago, in autumn or early winter, and it could be by now. Repeats itself simply everything, takes his seemingly endless circles. This time, too. Writing triggers and word choice are almost identical, unintended, unconscious - until just now. Is
the laugh, cry or both, or nothing? I think I'll take nothing.
For this moment - - -
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Does Brain Lipoma Cause Headaches
"Can you give me back?"
Somehow I have this stupid feeling of being not good enough. No matter what I do.
But not for anyone, but
for me alone.
Constantly feel need to keep up with someone. To be at least as good as that or even better.
this, I'm
just as well. On my whites. Every man for himself.
And I know, but somehow this does not work in my skull.
Again I fall back and I am sad and grim, so much that I already own so that nerve.
And others as well.
I would like to make much, much
reach back and finally find my self-esteem and it shows.
And if it starts only in little things!
Yes =)
And my darling, by Phillip has called that my design is ready.
Yeah, one small step for me in the right direction.
Somehow I have this stupid feeling of being not good enough. No matter what I do.
But not for anyone, but
for me alone.
Constantly feel need to keep up with someone. To be at least as good as that or even better.
this, I'm
just as well. On my whites. Every man for himself.
And I know, but somehow this does not work in my skull.
Again I fall back and I am sad and grim, so much that I already own so that nerve.
And others as well.
I would like to make much, much
reach back and finally find my self-esteem and it shows.
And if it starts only in little things!
Yes =)
And my darling, by Phillip has called that my design is ready.
Yeah, one small step for me in the right direction.
And Kathi:
dear, you are strong and can do it, just like your dad.
I believe in you, just like you to me.
Oh man, I'm sick to cry full = D
It is happening but only hurt himself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)