Why are birds so symbolic?

She closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids, closed and entrapped inside her own head, it seemed...easier. It seemed like the world belonged to her, when in reality the world was sharing by many minds that seemed keen to think the same.
Each mind is settled in the huge nest of the world; each corner filled with a baby of a thought, a dream chriping by hoping for anyone in the nest to feed it's hunger for hope and attention.
Not every mind is fed by the large beak of life. In fact, we are sometimes screwed over by this huge beak. This beak will fucking break the frail shell of protection our mind lives in, and will shatter whatever is inside it.  Our thoughts, opinions, our life will ooze out of this shell, leaving this liquid yellow behind. No one else in the nest will notice, because everybody is too afraid of life's fucking huge beak.

End of the world...literally.

I feel like every time I write I get older and more mature. Which sucks on both accounts.
Right. Well. Where to begin?
Life has a strange way of working. no; scratch that, it's us who work weirdly. One day i am so
depressed and the next nothing could just erase the happiness I feel.
I'd like to think one day ill leave a mark on the world, but nothing I ever did or nothing that I have
experienced has ever defined me as this tragic martyr or as a person that can break through.
I have no message to the world, I have nothing special to tell. If i do reach the top, it'll probably be
because of selfish goals and motives.
Yesterday, the end of the world as predicated by the mayans was suppose to occur. Nothing did, naturally, but it was rather dissapointing to all those people who saved up bottles of alcohol and tuica.
I talked to a close friend of mine, M. Weird how things stay the same but they change.
Fuck that doesn't even make fucking sense.
Struck by lightning was oddly touching. Constricted by life, by situation, by the people, and you fight
to get out of it all and you're this close but you failed. You massively and utterly failed.
not everyone's dream comes true. dreams are shattered and broken by minute. and trying? trying to get those dreams? its a load of horseshit, because if you fail, it wasn't worth it. it wasnt worth the pain and struggle you went through. Happiness isn't secured through trying, and so why bother trying at all?

Weird

the concept of personification
how high was the guy who created it? did the guy just go "oh man this toothbrush speaks to me" and the rest of humanity felt compelled to agree?  either humanity was on some strong drugs or toothbrushes has a lot more emotional depth.
concept of muppets
putting a sock on your hand to create an alternative character to entertain kids. nope, fine.
the concept of vocabulary
peachy. how is my mood based on a fruit?
the concept of advertising
why is food such as bacon chicken steak tuna always placed next to the alternative living version of itself? how is that not sick? and what type of fucked up adverising is that? look it used to be alive but now its better!
and why is there a dancing chicken?

And such

"Elementry, my dear Vlada." I say, smiling at the simplicity of our case.
"Hoe, the fuck you talkin' bout?" She answers, with as much style and grace
that a being like her can attain.
"This case, Vlada, it is all so obvious. The clues have been misleading, but do not fret,
for although simple sights can be decieving, a brilliant mind like mine can look past it."
"..Nigga, you high on crack? I don't remember sillpin them mushrooms in your cake...
Recently."

Kelly after reading sherlock holmes.

"...And as such, the mythological only comes from humanity's need of an explanation, of an answer."
I explain, simplifying the matter as much as I possibly could.
"So...did they like...have sex to like create spirits and shit?"
I sighed. "While the observation is quite eloquent, no, that is not at all what they did."
"Cause dude I had this dream and dinsouars and mosnters fucked and shit."
"stop cussing."
"fuck that. go fuck yourself."
"do you have anything that goes beyond the word 'fuck'?"
"sex."
"oh dear"
"not with deers, no, man that shits nasty."


I stare at her fingers; fingers which have the finesse and practice
 of rolling joints for years. They slightly quiver,
as if the drugs were still in her system, but  they settle quite firmly
on her cigar.
"You should stop smoking." I mutter, hating her disgusting habit.
"You should stop being a bitch. Oh, look, two things that won't happen."
I sigh,and laugh slightly.
"Which site did you copy that from?"
"didn't copy it. I am just that smart"
"Facebook?"
"Fuck you hoe I got the iq of paris hilton."
"..So, you're retarded?"
"Naw, man, im classy."
"9gag?"
"Yeah."

Don't Care

So it seems I am bored. Vacation. Unlike the previous one where I basicly
was depressed and sobby and angst-y, this one is just filled with boredom.
The strive to do something exists, but the push necesary to create an
action seems to have gone missing along with the rest of Bucharest's
population.

Dinosaur

"there is 7 chakras of which you have to be aware of. the vitality, the heart, the sexual energy-" "um, i think that ones dried out on me, or, like, dead. can we turn it on or something?" yoga - not meant for the cynical. "also, if i have pozitive energy charge or whatever, does that reflect on my bank account?" atleast i tried it. my spirit just aint what it used to be.

god this is cheesy but i actually mean alll of it

after being in romanai for ten years, and being in Ib for almost just as much, ive grown up to be the individual i am today. IB has contributed not only to my education but to further on expanding my views and essentially holding most of my memories loced in this two small buldings (one of which did not even exist in the beginning). ive seen it flourish and grow into what it is today, and strangely enoguh ive grown with it it created the space for my childhood to exist and for the opportunity to meet some amazing people that helepd define my character and leave a mark that i hold for the rest of my life. the friends ive had, that came and went not without my remembering them and the teachers that left their lessons with me for the rest of my life. the opportunities given to me led to my discovering a wider range of talents or skills, ones that i normally wuld avoid or not be brave enough to attempt. I feel that after all this years of ib being my home, I want my last year to be one where i fully contribute back and manage to do everything as i saw my past self doing. As terribly cheesy as it sounds, I want to be a senior capable of helping others adapt and enjoy school life as much as i did. make the lower classes feel as involved as they can, despite still feeling new to everything. id like to believe im approachable and asy to communicate with and there may be a person others can safely confide in, and these qualities allow me to help others and make school an ideal place it can be both for students and teachers. my last year and i wish to become a prefect so i can leave nowing that for the last time i experinced alll the opportunities ibs has offered, and alongside this, contribute to making events the best place ever. ib has been a home andbid like to makw others feel the same about it.

Thoughts Upbringing

The mind is an amazing thing. It can expand beyond the physical world, it can create
new worlds, new galaxies by just using imagination. The body can only hold the mind but it limits it
mind touches every corner it wants to, it is boundless, cannot be contained.
Reality is its true enemy. reality prevents a heaven from being created, it prevents us from dreaming.
we are meant to dream you know. Life is short, but your mind; it's timeless.
It has no ending or beginning, but a continuos stream of existance.

"My belief is that genetics proscribes a theory for the existance of all
organisms, even those of mythological iniatiations or backgrounds. It is the
core of all living organisms, and whilst others may dismiss supernatural notion,
it would be a grave mistake, as by expanding our mindset, we can find answers that
otherwise we would have ignored. Humans are so very extreme; bordering from
religious dedication to the complete eradication of it, sancatlasation. We
have yet to find middle ground that enables for both science and that of
spiritual ideas to exists. Yes, the big bang theory so explicitly portrays science's
contribution to the beginning of the universe, but ultimately, even scientists
can't understand why and how the particles acted in such a manner. Limiting
ourselves to pure science is a mistake. It discloses opportunities to find answers
that may otherwise never be found through pure science. Never dismiss an idea
just because it seems unlikely. Divluge, invest, expand. What we see is but a
portion of a universe so large."

The students seem invested by the seemingly endless monologue delivered
by the professor. Erik was intrigued slightly, as it is ever so rare to see
a man of science proclaim science is not the answer to everything.
Mythology quite often is dismissed in the modern world, which suits a lot
of creatures just superbly - Erik being one of those said creatures.

Being a vampire is, you see, quite a task. Yes, there is the endless amount
of time, but rules must be abided. Like any community, standards must be
set in order for the survival of the race, and being part of -s clan did
not change anything for Erik

Heaven Or Hell

I looked into those crazed green eyes, wondering what lays behind them.
What could those lays of liquid colored specturms mean? What does she hide that she doesn't let anyone see?
She attempt to forget, forget whatever it is she so desperately wishes to erase from the corners of her mind. When you stare into those emerald orbit eyes, you see a story that cannot be told in words - a story that cannot be read out loud out.
"Don't do that." I mutter, I muttered.
"Bitch, ain't no ghetto-jew tellin me what to do," she says, moving her head slowly from one side to another, imitating what in her tiny little world would resemable a black woman.

Modern Day View, Boggy.

Her eyes told a story of a million words; screaming what her voice could
never tell.
If only life could rectify it's own mistakes
If only life had a soul it would understand human compassion a lot better.
If life had lips, they'd be the colour that no human eye could dechipher. They'd
be beautiful, those lips; perhaps the universe shall shred a part of it's eternal beauty
into life's soul, leaving life bountless
I leaned in, looking life in the eyes, and whispered quietly, "fuck the hell off." Life blinked slowly, amazement and curiousity crossing it's features, wondering whether I'm insane or suicidal.

The end of what is a new year

Hi there blog. Ur probably wondering if I died, but I didn't. Prove, I'm here writing.
New year came a month or so ago, but I did not express my thoughts on the manner.
It does not matter, really. I'm almost of age, getting older, doing the things that meek humans do. This year was plain dull and not exciting, and I may have being fighting the leftover wires of depression, but I guess I accomplished a new sense of maturity. It's definetly not a year that I'll recall with vigorous effort, but it is nonetheless a year of my life. Id like to reciprocate next year, by doing everything humanly possible for me to enjoy my last year here.
You know my deep desire is to leave, but at the same time, I want my final days here to be enjoyable. I promise myself an year of adventure to follow, and accomplishing something I haven't before. As the end of year approaches, summer will come and it shall pass too. Sometimes there's a reminiscent of loneliness, of needing something to full fill this..void. But I realise I need time to rediscover my individuality and my persona, and despite my belief in living life everyday, youth is still predominant and I still have time on my side to live everything I ever wanted to. Like a bird that flies whenever it desires to, so will I.
Gay, the cheesiness.

She settled the kneedle in her vein, feeling the euphoric freedom that only those chemicals could provide her with. She closed her eyes, feeling the mental journey of sinking lower. She could stop any time, any moment.
And she did, once, she did.
When she met him.
The drugs addication fated out and was replaced with him. Everything was him. Life, air, earth was him. She needed him, every single core of her body did. It wasn't love, it was survival at its basic strive. Her mind relied on his presence, on his acceptance. Of him nodding at him, of him moving and acknowledging her. Whenever he talked to her, she felt that much that her need was sated.