terribly disturbed

i am terribly disturbed by the fact that:

i cant think of happy script/story ideas.
i haf stalker-ish tendencies.
i can be so dman happy, yet so damn emo.
my blog contains some very distrubingly strange entries.
i am so weird.
i do insane things while i'm sane.
franz ferdinand wrote michael.
alot of things disturb me, things i cannot think of rite now but i am sure exist.

rite now i'm listenin to wayyy to much all the same.
music is screwing up my brain you know.
its like, my emotions are being determined by wads playing on my ipod/tunes.
its weird, and scary.
i mean, what if i no longer can control how i feel?
i'd haf become a robot.
with artificial emotion.
so damn afraid really.

pple shld really not take me seriously. i hope its that way. i mean, at least thats wad i tink. i mean, maybe i jus wan it that way. pple to not take me seriously, such that they never noe when i'm being serious when i'm not. its a double-edged sword. on one hand, dats a gd thing, cos its easier to guard myself, easier to pull on that mask of happiness, to live a life constructed all in my bedroom. yet on the other hand it makes me so fake, so intangible? not really. i tink it jus makes seperation so much easier, to distance myself from everyone else. and its not a gd thing, i and some argue, cos den i'm not lettin others help, even if i need help. whos to say?

its so funny, yet its not.
you're like this, phantom,
this ghost.
ure not haunting me,
not yet,
u jus linger here by my side.
running through my head,
laughing, smiling,
i can hear the clanging of your laughter.
it hurts.

this pursuit, fascinating,
the way i chase,
run, stop, run, stop,
its a never ending stuggle,
to discover that at the end,
what?

the funny thing is, somehow it only works to have that something. to guide me? to anchor me? to scare me? but i guess i want it that badly all the same. its like porn O_O

i want you to know,
and at the same time i'm afraid you know.
i'm afraid you already know.

its so ironic how much songs can really say what you are feeling. its comforting, yet at the same time its fucking scary. am i then subject to making meaning of my life solely through others? its almost like a meta-narrative gone wrong. we all need meta-narratives. but i tink its only safe if we had a many. to jus haf a few, it leaves the possibility of them faling, fallign apart. what then?

its not that i like to talk liddat.
its not that i'm trying to be mysterious.
this, talking this way,
its the most comfortable for me.
the easiest way for me to speak,
as it somewhat eases my fear of,
being understood?
i jus don feel so, vulnerable.
its another of those insecure things.
but i indulge myself in it anyway.
so no one really takes me for everything.