I was contemplating on why I wanted to share this with you, can you handle it, can you handle me being blunt, will you just judge me for revealing how I may feel towards a person, topic or even you, so with all that being said... I wasn't going to show this but I feel like a collection of people need to hear it, and also profusion of weak-minded individuals are scared to say the truth amongst the masses (which are their friends, strangers, and family members); the reason why they might be hesitant on sharing their thoughts on a "strange topic" may consist of fear of being judged, fear of being an outcast, being alone, failing your loved ones, staying in a box, remaining in the hands of poor choices of leaders, fitting into this category of "weirdos", and/or being placed in a barrel of deep-dark-matter, forming strange thoughts of abnormal voices and situations regarding inscrutable singleton/misfits. You tried comparing being cynical, introverted, using meaningless words of misfits, with being insane, psychotic, mentally deranged and "strange-minded" Really? if being motivated to be the very best of your abilities will take you, not knowing your own limits, never stopping until you have nothing left in your body and even then, you won't stop because you know, if you stop you may miss something significant, so then guess what; I assume I am a psychotic, deranged, mentally disturbed, insane, and strange-minded individual. but anyways, off topic, I'm always drawn towards the obscure, darker, deep-mined and vague individuals because I think it's just a lot more interesting. But it's also thought-provoking fun doing the meaningless antics sometimes, and I think that's why 'Misfits' have been great in that way, as you get a really good balance of unusual, obscured, introverted, thinks-loudly, randomness, provocative (in the way of, not caring what you may think of them, but keeping that mentality of self-respect and of others in mind), refreshing, and amusing. I will never understand the course of thought behind apotheosizing a person not knowing who they really are, it's strange, but whatever do you.Extra stuff:Like I said before, I honestly can care less what people have to tell me what I need to do in order to keep my sanity, composure, and how I may feel at this point in my life; but just know, I am in no way shape or form, saying everything that's happening in the world or in my life is all for a greater purpose, I'm simply saying, poor choices are a part of life, and if this is one of mine then so be it, I'll accept it as a learning experience, so peace out. PS: I am not directing this to anyone, in particular, it is just a series's concept, with underground meanings.

It all comes back. Perhaps it is difficult to see the value in having one's self back in that kind of mood, but I do see it; I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were. I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be; one of them, a seventeen-year-old, presents little threat, although it would be of some interest to me to know again what it feels like to sit on a river levee drinking vodka-and-orange-juice and listening to Les Paul and Mary Ford and their echoes sing "How High the Moon" on the car radio. (You see I still have the scenes, but I no longer perceive myself among those present, no longer could ever improvise the dialogue.) The other one, a twenty-three-year-old, bothers me more. She was always a good deal of trouble, and I suspect she will reappear when I least want to see her, skirts too long, shy to the point of aggravation, always the injured party, full of recriminations and little hurts and stories I do not want to hear again, at once saddening me and angering me with her vulnerability and ignorance, an apparition all the more insistent for being so long banished. It is a good idea, then, to keep in touch, and I suppose that keeping in touch is what notebooks are all about. And we are all on our own when it comes to keeping those lines open to ourselves: your notebook will never help me, nor mine you.