Gibberish: is a generic term in English for talking that sounds like speech, but has no actual meaning

Fuck is a harsh word. I dont fuck around or try to fuck up anything. And obviously this will sound harsh because i used the word fuck... But I don't give a fuck. I just wanted to say that.

I have no super brain. I only try to be what I want to be. And I try to want to be the right thing to be. And I try to define for myself what is the right thing to be, basically based on what I want to be. Who is almost someone I can actually consider good. A type of good i never see anyone achieve.
Fuck, I'm no good, but I sure as Hell try to be.
But like I said, I have no super brain. It was triggered by my unkown best friend. And I love it.
So don't go away. I'll get to know you, when my non-super brain finally figures it out.
Brains hurt.

I wrote a good poem about you

I wrote a good poem about you
and erased it until the paper wore through;
until the eraser shredded and the desktop
was covered with granular pink shreds.
the visible debris of second thought
mixed among shreds of notebook paper.
the compound debris of what might have been written
about you and your longing brown eyes
and silky black hair and your dissatisfaction
with the things you'd written. I wrote
a noble poem that described you heroically,
a woman waiting for her real heart to be born
from her paper heart and her pencil heart
but erased it a half hour later, sore
from the writing of it; sore from thinking
about you too hard indeed; sore from
looking at paper and lines of graphite,
smears of graphite on loose leaf notebook paper,
memories of tests taken in school,
and of looking directly into your eyes
as though your eyes were all there were.
to look into in this life or the next.
I wrote a good poem about all of this
and regretted not only writing it,
but the memory of looking into your eyes
and kissing your lips and you softly
kissing mine too softly almost sadly,
as if you knew that none of it could be held
for very long; that what you'd written
would also have to be erased before long;
that what you'd done you had not really done
and that it could be deleted and begun anew
on a new day with a fresh sheet of notebook paper
and a newly sharpened pencil after
the sharpener had done its grinding;
after you had done all of your grinding
on a new morning when the paper was new,
your real heart still yet to be born.
I wrote a good poem about you
but where is it now I just want to know...

Episodes

There are turning points in life that could change you forever.
Episodes.
I had one particular episode where I became the centre of negative attention, in my own home, for a reason I would rather not state. In the end it was just a misunderstanding, but, at that moment, I witnessed an alteration in my fellow friends; an evil facade of these people whom I had grown to love and respect. It's amazing how people can change just by believing that something terrible happened and how one little mistake might ruin someone's life.
Even though it was resolved and my friends apologised, I registered the fact that they turned against me without a second thought.
I don't dislike these people because of this, but maybe they are not who i think them to be?
Of course!

Nothing is ever how it seems to be!
Nothing!

One should always remember that when one is quick to judge.

Life. Is it secondary?

Life is the background to my mind.
I always have to look first through my thoughts before actually seeing what's there.