Being set to think is confronting but necessary

I've been acting like drunk fool lately, with some romantic idea's and fantasy's. Is this the real me?

The amazement I find in looking at some real normal stuff like a tree, a hand, a cloud, is what touches me deep in my soul and heart. Is that what I want to share with others? I really don't know.

Some part of me is that hopeless romantic.
Some part of me wants to kick society [...] - hard.
I think somewhere, that guy from Rammstein is cute.
Somewhere, I fancy the wrong guys, smoking (pot), drinking alcohol.
Somewhere I am that Calamity Jane: a knife in her boot, a bow on her back, fighting her way to freedom.
Somewhere I am Jane Eejit: that clown, bouncing off the walls, making myself look like an idiot.

I seem to be drifting on that sea of uncertainty, not knowing which part I want to be next. Unknowing wheter I am a mix of these extremes, or a person hiding behind them. Is it some lame excuse to think I've never known my real self?

I've spent years recovering from the divorce. I think I still am recovering. I don't think I know myself.

Am I that uncertain person, not happy with how she looks?
Am I that hurt person, abandoned and lost?
Am I that rebel, trying to change a stone into a flower?

Who am I?

Does it really matter waht name I have, what people call me? Will my true name reveal my real identity? Because I haven't felt like the real me when someone shouted my name or whispered it in my ear.

Will I recognize who the real me is?

I wish someone could help me with this. Can someone who has never seen the real me tell me who I am?

I shall hide behind my mask now and sleep. Ah...Muse is on. Good. That's just what I need.

So friggin bored

My God, my God...

It's eight p.m. and the main reason I'm still in school is that I've got internet in here and not at home.
Besides, there's not a fuck I can do at home, except eat crisps and play guitar. Which I'm bound to do eventually.

I'm really not into going home because I just know Marjolein is going to give me some fucked up sentence like "So...! You're home late. Was it busy in school?"

And I hate to answer that. I mean: she's got Borderline Syndrome which means she can be pushed over an edge [which she actually doesn't have] very easily. But the real answer to that question ofcourse is "I'm home so late because I didn't want to hear that fucked up sentence you throw my way every fucking single time I come home late. Okay? MY! SCHEDULE! SUCKS! SO! LEAVE! ME! ALONE!"

Grr.

And I feel so powerless because one of my best friends has a problem and I can't do something about it and I wish I could.

And there are people reading over my shoulder what I'm typing here. BUZZ OFF, I'm typing here!

Grr.

Bouncing off the walls in an angry manner. Grr. I need something to do!

[Paper LJ] Home.

When I came home, I was really quiet. Marjolein didn't hear me (that's easy because she's half deaf). I locked myself in my room with tea, crisps, chocolate, yoghurt and lemonade.

I'm now watching a movie called "Photographing Fairies" which sounds really interesting. There's some great music to start wit and some good scenes so far. It looks like just after WW I.

{After the movie}

I loved the movie. It was a very strange leading character. A fairy got burnt! By which I was inspired, which actually is not good.

I'm starting on a second fairy sketch while I haven't even finished the first. Sigh. Inspiration is a strange thing.