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I was never meant to be here. I'm from another planet.
This is why star trek is so fascinating to watch.

Why soap operas bore me.
Everything always feels like a dream and I never feel alive.

This is why I don't drive. I would die in a horrible accident while day dreaming.

These repeating day dreams chain me down until anything around me is background noise.

I'm a huge flaw in this planet. Scabbing over until I'm skin again.

This isn't a poem, it's simplistic and it isn't fancy.

Where ever I go. I'm considered a fuck up even if they don't say it.

Something always rubs me wrong when they tell me to do what they do.
Go to school, be a nurse, you only need two years of college to wipe old people ass.

When I'm alone, I'm always left with questioning myself, doubting. Asking myself if I should
be this stubborn against people who act like they're trying to help. Are they really my enemy?
Just because they're stupid, and they don't question anything. Should I feel sorry?
I have felt sorry, and I have explained how I feel about everything.

They don't listen. They think I'm mean when they're just afraid to come out of their comfort zones.
A zone they've had, like a cushion prison since they were born.

Any time I could go to a friend's house, I would. Because they always had more food than me.
They had a pool, a hot tub, a computer. Something I didn't.
My friends started to think I was using them, calling me poor trash.

Drinking well water and never having juice or soda growing up, or candy.
Unless my parents scored while dumpster diving.

I'm an irresponsible child at the age of 25 to most but I know why I'm like 'this'
I hold no title, I am never the same each day.

I hate: No one and nothing.

I don't believe in hate. I am selfish, suffering and I love, just cold on the outside.
Cold because people are ruthless drones who care nothing about my feelings.

Share your story of yourself, I'm all eyes.
 

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I am a storm dreaming in nothingness.

A child who wanted to be the Moon
still cherishes its oasis.

I am not made of star stuff, I am made
of dreaming cells. And every cell which completes me
departs in silence.
If I could dream forever
my microcosm would be unified.

Concrete is a prison. Searching for a spell which can turn it
into a river.

I love trees. Sometimes I think they are siblings
I grew up without.

Whatever the road I'm on and the path I took
I must have put weights on my ankles. It feels like
crawling. Everything I contact is the Way, but usually I
touch thorns.

Trying to make the whole World dream...
someone told me I'm asking for a nightmare.

I am the Universe which is still an egg.
 

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I would write posts like this at another forum, trying to express a feeling I disliked thoroughly enough that it could finally fragment. It is like bleeding acid into the hardened cracked earth until I could finally wedge my fingers deep enough into it to pull out a crumbling chunk of it be rid of it. The writing that came from it I would post because it had a kind of beauty to me and it felt like the purest expression of myself. I wanted others to relate so I would know I wasn't the only one who appreciated it. Few would reply, and I felt alien because of it. If they could not relate, I must be alien.

I wonder though. How could they relate when what upset me most was my alienness? If that is what I was insisting on, what could they do to cross that divide? Who will cross into a backyard with a dog who is angry for the division that stands between him and others, and thus punishes both? Who will go willingly to get bitten, even if they would otherwise want to reach out? Who who in their heart who wants to reach out would say, "yes! I am just as you are! completely different from others and this is my story!" They who do are clearly confused, for what they say and do are completely at odds. Is it for not wishing discomfort they persist in avoiding such confused behavior? Well, yes, and fortunately so.

Most everyone has their own residual fears and doubts and will seek to the ground they are most familiar with, finding friends not far from these places. It is just the way of it. But if their hearts are that gentle, even small barks can make them desire to seek company perceived more trustworthy.
 

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expressing emotions is... strange and difficult for me. so i'm sorry i can't contribute. but i wanted you to know that i read this, and i love you, meak.
 

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Discussion Starter #5
I love you too, my grandbaby ^^ haha so weird saying that xD I know you have a hard time expressing yourself, and so do I.
I am still worried, even after posting. Paranoid since I'm such a private person.
 
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I wish I knew who I was. That would be the best gift anyone could give to me. It's very unfortunate I can't give it to myself. I once thought that I did not need anyone but myself to survive and be happy.

I am who I believe you want me to be for the time we are together. I create a character that pleases you. That you are comfortable with. That you believe me to be. It is very easy for me, since we always stay above the surface. Everyone I know here is terrified of going under the current and taking a swim with me, for fear of revealing anything about themselves. When we both go our separate ways, I cease to exist as this string of smiles and gestures you are familiar with and go back to being a faceless and blank mass of cells that I cannot for the life of me categorize objectively, which makes my attempts at self-identity pointless and miserably futile. After you leave my sight, I dissolve like a mass of raindrops into the concrete. Water is shapeless. It can turn into anything. It cannot be defined.

I merely exist. A mass of various and diverse types of cells called an organism. That is the only proper title that can be assigned as of now. One can only see the shell: the physical, discarded remains of a person. The occupant can't even bother to care properly for it because she is so distraught and unable to find that calm center she once had. That calm center of the galaxy: a black hole where no light escapes and everything seems real. That center of gravity that pulls everything together. Everything there is absolute and figured out. All the equations have been solved. Everything makes sense, even if someone could reach in and pull out all the conclusions and turn them into equations and find the place where I made an error in my calculations. Then again, sometimes the answer is not as simple as x=1.

I toe the line between the subconscious, schizophrenic dreamland. I think the most frightening things come from my own imagination. My own mind scares me the most. Horror movies aren't scary. My own personally significant nightmares are, because then I must face some poorly-formed, fragmented, humanoid shape that passes as myself. If I am alone enough for a long enough period, I start to wonder if I am awake or asleep, if I have been dreaming this whole time.

All right, enough. Time to go distract myself from this with worldly, concrete pleasures... again.
 

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i am a manic depressive teddy bear
i do believe that i'm an alien, and music is my way of communicating back to the mother ship
i want to make a difference in the world, but not in a traditional way
i want my legacy to come to life for the aliens to come, so they will never feel alone in this world
i see the beauty in everyone
yet nobody can find a way to the innermost parts of me to catch of glimpse of my beauty
my soul mate is a dreamer
her best friends are the little things in life that i often miss
we don't complete each other, we see each other as individuals and love all that we see and perceive
sometimes i get sad knowing i'll always exist as a soul
sometimes i'd like to rest completely from it all
then the sun goes down, i see the moon and feel the eyes of my true love looking back through it
she's not an alien, but she's fluent in the language and fascinated with the culture
i used to be well liked at school
but i felt fake
then i was introduced to myself by a friend
that friend was punk music
i love endless summer days
like joy and comfort although it fades
the promises of love remain
love will be enough
although i don't know how to say
the words won't come, the feelings stay
i know i'll never be the same
love will be enough
i hate cliche sappy poems like the one i just wrote
i'm ashamed of it, but too lazy to delete it
if i knew the world was going to end tomorrow i'd say
"it took you long enough"
 

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Sorry about that last post meak, your avy scared me a little. ^^ Space though, I love thinking about what other worlds or people might be like and YES, wonder if they would be more like me, lol.
 

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In addition to what I already wrote on the other thread:

Sometimes I feel like my Heart is too big,Like it might all of a sudden burst
from my chest. I feel so Much,I love so deeply.
I remember everyone it's this problem I have.
Nostalgia Nostalgia Nostalgia
Heavy heart.
I connect with strangers I know their faces in
my mind people I never got the chance to talk to but Impacted my life.
Sometimes I wish I could be Cold wish I had no feeling
Wish I didn't care so much.
I know that will never go away I'll always be the
girl with an open heart getting heavier everytime.

I just re-read this It's not very readable but it is how I feel
Essentially I'm trying to say that my heart is just too fucking big
and that my mind weighs too heavily on my past.
 

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you're supposed to express yourself on personalitycafe. that's what it's for, you know? and no one will think any lesser of you, if that's what you're worried about.
Exactly :happy: Whatever anyone writes they certainly won't be judged for being radical or different, so don't be shy peps. Whatever you say about yourself is good on this forum.
 

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This thread caught my attention as a friend referred me to this site.

I typically don't feel "human" and I wonder if it's just because I observe people and have developed a sort of misanthropic attitude. I see all this needless conflict based off of people's egos and I just remove myself because I feel like I'd be wasting my breath pointing out the situation they are in and how stupid they are being for not taking a step back to actually analyze the situation.

I also get so annoyed because not many people seem to take any time for introspection. Like, to actually work on themselves and own their shit. A world of people manipulating each other to try to get each other to conform to what they want instead of doing the work themselves because apparently it's easier to make other people appease you than to grow internally.

I get along with people very well regardless of all this. I'm a very understanding individual and don't express my judgmental attitude towards people so most everyone seems to inherently like me.

Growing up, I've always felt like I'm the only "real" person.
 

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I am the wind. In my loving moments, I am a gentle breeze, fluttering like a butterfly, caressing your face, stroking your hair. And your heart. I carry the scent of flowers to you, but I have no perfume of my own.

In my happy moments, I run through fields and forest, rustling grass and leaves. I carry the songs of birds to you, for their music conveys my joy better than my own.

In my adventurous moments, I bring lightning, thunder, and rain. I am strong. I carry excitement to you, but sometimes you are afraid.

In my sad moments, I bring clouds and soft rain. Even in my sorrow, my tears carry life, and joy.

In my rare angry moments, I am still. Calm. I do not give of myself. I do not share. But they do not last for long. I soon forgive, and am sharing my love once more.

But no one notices the wind. I am not seen or heard. Only felt. And usually ignored.
 

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This is how I tend to feel sometimes. I feel like I'm not from here, like I'm too sensitive. I feel like I came from a world where things are good and pure, and this world seems too hostile, rude, and selfish to appreciate the world I came from. I am special, but sometimes I don't want to be. I keep wondering how I'll make it in the cold, cruel world out there with my soft heart and idealism, and I know I might not. I'm fifteen, but I've already been through so much, yet like Anne Frank did I believe deep down inside people are truly good at heart. Tell me otherwise, but I'll believe it until I see with my own eyes that humanity truly has little to no hope left.
 
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