The Mute Diary of Perfect Insanity
Not quite as profound. So what?
Today was just the monotone ticking of seconds past. Maybe the silence just needed some music of its own. Maybe today I’m a little less profound, does that matter?
Apparently I never look the same as anyone else, whether I smile or sing or even if I’m just staring into space. Apparently even natural expressions of mine cannot fit in.
I really hate people when people narrate my thoughts, the things such as; “she gave me a look like…” or “she was thinking…” because they are generally wrong. The common person is so damn conceited that of course their minds must triumph over any thought offered by another. Am I that way? Sure sometimes, but I have learned that you cannot always read everyone’s expression.
A blank look? I am not confused by basic language, it bored me.
A glare? Probably not, my emotions just never seem to portray my thoughts.
A sad look? No you didn’t hurt me, it made me randomly recall something.
Unresponsive? Leave. Me. Alone.
Maybe I rant all too much.
Maybe today I just feel less philosophical.
So what?
Apparently I never look the same as anyone else, whether I smile or sing or even if I’m just staring into space. Apparently even natural expressions of mine cannot fit in.
I really hate people when people narrate my thoughts, the things such as; “she gave me a look like…” or “she was thinking…” because they are generally wrong. The common person is so damn conceited that of course their minds must triumph over any thought offered by another. Am I that way? Sure sometimes, but I have learned that you cannot always read everyone’s expression.
A blank look? I am not confused by basic language, it bored me.
A glare? Probably not, my emotions just never seem to portray my thoughts.
A sad look? No you didn’t hurt me, it made me randomly recall something.
Unresponsive? Leave. Me. Alone.
Maybe I rant all too much.
Maybe today I just feel less philosophical.
So what?