The Outlet

I am certainly not the one to dislike people. It is they who are the ones to dislike me. I have a problem with people who do not like me as a person. For who I am. I just do not appreciate people who do not like me because they have judged me. Being written off as something I may be or may not be. Either way, it is certainly not a kewl thing to do. The friends I have I have because we have a mutual respect. We don't judge each other. We like each other for who we are. Not by what we hear or see from afar. My friends are the best thing to me, and the people I wish to keep the closest.

Emotionally I'm not sure where I stand. I stand where I stand because I won't classify myself. Inside me are things I think about. Good and bad, happy and sad. I miss people dearly and anticipate when I can see them again. Even a simple conversation on the phone will suffice. Some people I have trouble being around because of the way they act.

My name? You probably know. Who I am? You may know. What I act like? Some truly know. How I look at things? I know. Who I care for? Some know. How much? I know. Do I write? Yes. Often? Yes. Do I let people read what I write? Depends on the person. My attitude? Variable but usually cheery. Friends? Many and those I wish to keep for long times to come. Farewells? Right now.

To all my friends who read this. You know who you are. You are the most important thing to me. I can't think of what I would be without you here for me. Certain friends of my I consider unbearable to lose. I bet the people I speak of know who they are. Hopefully we'll stay friends for as long as we can. All we have to do is try. No matter the time, no matter the place, I'll be there for you if you're there for me. Keep it real. Bye.

Knowing how to take up space gives someone something to do. It's giving me something to do. I'd really like people to sign my guestbook. It'd be cool.. Well, I've got stuff to write about. It'll just be here in a later time.

Anyone bored? I get bored. A lot. Gotta think of something fun to do. Well, I dunno. I might stop writing in this because there's not much for me to write about. Still, more poems to come.

It's interesting really, how people can say something is perfect. Others say perfection is imperfection and to be perfect is to be imperfect. There is something you have to take under consideration. There is no perfection without imperfection and vice versa. You can't say something is perfect until you can compare it to something which is imperfect. There is nothing imperfect until is it compared to something perfect. There is something, though. How is something considered perfect and imperfect? What if there was nothing to compare it to? Than there would be no perfection or imperfection. How do we base our ideals of what is perfect or not? What gives certain things the right? This is something to think about. Please don't argue with me about this. I just thought that it was something to think about.