In my head
There are conversations going on in my head even as I write this. Long, drawn out dissertations, short stories, comic strips and even the lunitic raving of a completely mad person.
There hve been many nights of conversations lately. Conversations with people (a good thing,) and conversations alone. Ideas and thoughts spiral down into a morass of thinking goo that solidifies, sometimes for the good, sometimes not.
The good times is when the solid formation is that of complex variety, an idea that incorporates my strange interests with tibits of knowledge I've managed to gleen off this rock.
And other times, more often times, it's me having a screaming match with myself. This usually results in the solidified block of "shutupShutUpSHUTUP."
Self-censorship is something that has been brought up and turned over recently. Very often I find myself censoring the things that I write, say, and do, based on perception of the recieving party. I do a lot of things based on perception.
But perception is just that: the mask, the facade; that which is put forward for people to see, that which they want to see, that which they can conceive.
I find these perceptions amusing. I have devloped them over time, out of neccesity. I have gathered my armor and it serves me well. Too well. I have built my tower, and every day I build it a little higher, a little stonger.
Because Kragore the badass does not exist outside perception.
It has been prooven that Kragore has an extraordinarily squishy, sensitive middle. This is usually done in fighteningly painful fashion, as so the armor grows, the tower gets a little higher, and I get a little more distant, the lunitic mad voice a little louder.
Very few people have taken the time to peek under the armor, pry back the jaded black-coffee covering and see that Kragore, is well... not exactly made of brass as everyone seamingly likes to think.
*blink*
Ahh well. One of the voices says it's time for bed.
- K.
There hve been many nights of conversations lately. Conversations with people (a good thing,) and conversations alone. Ideas and thoughts spiral down into a morass of thinking goo that solidifies, sometimes for the good, sometimes not.
The good times is when the solid formation is that of complex variety, an idea that incorporates my strange interests with tibits of knowledge I've managed to gleen off this rock.
And other times, more often times, it's me having a screaming match with myself. This usually results in the solidified block of "shutupShutUpSHUTUP."
Self-censorship is something that has been brought up and turned over recently. Very often I find myself censoring the things that I write, say, and do, based on perception of the recieving party. I do a lot of things based on perception.
But perception is just that: the mask, the facade; that which is put forward for people to see, that which they want to see, that which they can conceive.
I find these perceptions amusing. I have devloped them over time, out of neccesity. I have gathered my armor and it serves me well. Too well. I have built my tower, and every day I build it a little higher, a little stonger.
Because Kragore the badass does not exist outside perception.
It has been prooven that Kragore has an extraordinarily squishy, sensitive middle. This is usually done in fighteningly painful fashion, as so the armor grows, the tower gets a little higher, and I get a little more distant, the lunitic mad voice a little louder.
Very few people have taken the time to peek under the armor, pry back the jaded black-coffee covering and see that Kragore, is well... not exactly made of brass as everyone seamingly likes to think.
*blink*
Ahh well. One of the voices says it's time for bed.
- K.
