Woo! My stomach hurts and I have a headache! ho-rah!

Dunno why my stomach is bothering me, but my head probably hurts from staying up and typing so much. I've spent the last two days in the middle of a pretty rewarding story. It's definitely a new experience seeing as the other character is blind, while mine is super human. So it's a bit interesting to see how they interact. But so far, so good. Nothing to bad has happened yet. Though our characters have yet to interact with any of the other characters. But oh well!

Today was also NEASC. Which kinda blew. We spent about an two and a half hours editing a 10 page essay thing. It was probably the most dry experience in school that I've had in a while. Although some of the bantering was fun/funny. I kinda wished I had taken the laptop job, because even though the teacher that did take it was the faster typer out of all of them, he was still slower than me. Which just kinda frustrated me because I was tired and I wanted this over as soon as humanly possible.

Cookie IMed me today. Which of course is always a suprise. And odd one too. But I honestly feel like I'm in the middle of their little game. And it's kinda funny. Why? Because they don't know that I can read what's on their walls even though they don't think I can. Oh well. It's not like it matters anyway. It's just a little high school thing. It's relativly shallow.

Okay, so speaking of shallowness and such. I've decided to write this down because I'm starting to understand it a little in my head.

I think everyone in the world will say that there's a certain part of them that they think is fake. A part of them that they wear but doesn't quite belong to them. It's fabricated for the sake of going along with others that you feel compelled or forced to fit in with. This fake part of you is a part that you dislike possibly, because you believe it's not real.

But really. What is fake and what is real?

I wont bother with finding dictionary definitions, because I don't feel like it.

But I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Why? Because for the longest time I was under the impression that the majority of the time, I act fake. I act fake in school because I'm more shallow and I'm always happy. I act fake at home because I put on a "Holier than thou" attitude. I act fake in the dojo because I act stronger than I really am.

Though once I started to do that. I realized that if I started to pick apart things and say "this is fake and this is fake and this is fake" well then I'm not left with much to work with. I'm left with the little core me. The me that feels like it's being drowned and crushed by the pressures of the world. That still has demons that press down on me. And then I wonder...is that really who I am? Is this little tiny thing really me? Yeah. It's deep inside of me. The deepest that anyone can ever go inside of me.

So if you aknowledge that there is fakeness in you. You are saying that humans, are actually rather simple beings, surrounded by fabricated complexities.

But that doesn't make sense.

Everything that you do. Every single way that you act. Is a part of you. No matter how different each part may seem, no matter how 'fake' you might think it is. It's still real.

You think you've created something fake to fit in with others. A personality based off a general model so that you wont be shuned by the people that use that model to go about their lives. But think. That general model, while the same for everyone, isn't portrayed the same by everyone. To even create something that you think is 'fake' you need to use something real to create it.

So while this something that you create by taking two things and molding them together isn't what you had to begin with, it's an add on. And extension of yourself. Because everything is real. Even the things you don't think are real, are just as real as the things you think are real. In this way, humans are complex, but simple.

Simple because everything a person ever does is who they are. Complex, because there's so many different flavors and tones that it can come in.

People are like buildings with many different floors. If 8 floors are bright colours and filled with rounded and soft furneture. But, the last 2 floors are black and filled with hard and sharp lined furniture. While the contrast between the rooms are great. They are still a part of the same building. And the furneture can be moved in little ways to create subtle changes and varations to what is already yourself.

I don't know if anyone really undersood that. But I'm tired, and I felt like I had to say something.

Out~