Writing thoughts about having thoughts that are nothing but thoughts thoughtfully thought.

Me the ever compliant culprit of my own sarcastic self, roaming around in the confines of my cynical mind depending on my want and need. Remembering always that I am the vessel to which emotions appeal to for existence regardless of outcomes. Outwardly I adhere to all known social norms and expected behaviors while in my own small way know the delicate balance in which they exist. Such as my lethargy and my restlessness as always and forever unable to continually be compliment due to my lack of interest in events or tasks offered. My dignity and indignity, competing for equal footing among all the problems not mine and enforced beliefs that carry no weight in my life, that appear merely as a waste of my time in the moments I would be doing something other than everything that keeps me from myself. My caring and my lack of compassion never evenly mixing, always prone to imbalance, in more ways than one because of my scope of understanding that what's good for others is not always good for me and what's good for me is not always what's needed for others because like it or not, we're from totally different experiences. And while people look inward and see only what they want and decide what they will about me based only on their opinions of what they want me to be, I with much resolution cast them to their own winds to be scattered in their selfish selfullness, knowing this. Life is supposed to be experienced not mimicked.

Nowhere in my mind do I ever concede to someone else needs more than my own and while people always seem to want me to do so or be so, I have a lingering resentment that they are, realizing that if I have no importance in their lives, save only what they want of me, then I am of no importance to them at all and therefore feel no need to respond to their ever beckoning calls. Yes I am a living person, yes I have wants and needs of my own. And trying to fulfill them in some secondary scenario of living and being alive is as wasteful of life as is never watering a garden seed. Forthwith, as I search for the thoughts to entertain my mind that hopefully and with great forethought are not too much for my life to maintain, I level up to myself and greet my me every day with the same determination as the day before. To move forward and onward in the paths that cause some thought to life, some unmomentous occasion where nothing but being a part of a daily routine is in fact just that and allow for the times where and when I have no reason to be anything to anyone save myself. Dealing always with the ideas my mind must process in some sort of fashion in order to develop into what it is I would say, rather than what I would not. Realizing that in any given instance and or change of my characterization to which I am to manifest I must always be true.

Jade Jaspers