Wow! I have
two journals going, a poem book, and a creative writing
book.
Gee Dane you
must be artistic!
No, not really,
just confused, uneducated, and very unorganized.
Why should
I be concerned about how I look, does it matter? I know
my faults better than anyone else and they don't. I guess
that is why I am so insecure most of the time.
Today I just
wanted to go home and kill myself. I hate when I feel
like this. It scares me. So I write about how to improve
myself.
It is redundant.
I give myself
pity.
I wish I could
draw or write beautiful creations. My poems have no real
pattern, they go off the main subject (birdwalk) and are
incomplete sentences. They express my feelings towards
my emotions. My feelings and the way I observe my emotions
are so scattered, like my poems.
Incomplete.
Contradicting.
Imaginary.
My style.
Chris likes
my writing. I feel good that he does. Kelly likes it too.
I would love to write all the time. When I am alone in
a busy place I do my best writing.
Strange.
Somehow other
people's voices; their talking, laughter and eruptions
give me fuel. An inner self comes out and expresses my
scattered feelings towards emotion.
"Scattered
Feelings Towards Emotion"
by Dane Michael
Cameron.
My book name.
My masterpiece.
I wish I could
get my work published. I wonder how much money it would
cost me? I would feel good about myself to have something
published. Like I said, my art.
When I was
younger I wanted Fame, Success, and Money. Now I kinda
just want Success and Money. No fame. I don't want to
be a star, I don't want to have people know all about
me and know who I am.
That does not
mean however that I do not want to be noticed. I like
the feeling that people are watching me. I like people
to wonder about me and want to get to know me. I like
to think that I am attractive and that other people do
too. It gives me a type of security that although I am
not rich, intelligent, established or successful that
at least the boy is good looking.
My favorite
three words:
"I don't
know"
Chris' three
favorite words:
"I don't
care"
Kelly's three
favorite words:
"Fuck
you, bastard"
Bastard meaning
Michael. It is the same thing you know.
Oh by the way,
I was writing a monologue about this boy and he just came
into the cafe. It is an experiment for me. I'm spying
on this boy and writing what I am doing. It is a comedy.
He is outside now. I don't know wither or not to go out
and talk to him or not. He just motioned my presence.
He was with a girl. I hate to invade, perhaps he is having
an intense conversation with this girl.
I don't know.
I want a cigarette.
This does give
me inspirations to continue my mono.
Does he think
I am too forward? Does he even like me?
Only one way
to find out.. Go out there and intrude. I need to learn
to intrude more. I think I will find out. It won't cost
money,
GOD I NEED
A CIGARETTE!!!
Calm down,
think of something to say and go out there. Become a person
that he will like!
(later)
Well, bombed
out on that!
I ended up
talking to this girl, Julie, who was in my fashion awareness
class at Cuesta. (The girl he was with)
He just kept
silent. I don't think he likes me. He never talks to me.
How come anyone I want to know does not want to know me?
Fuck it, I
don't know!
Anyways here
I am at the last lines of my first journal. Depressing,
but here's good news:
Although everything
in my life is shitty, I feel content.
(weird)
A MAN'S REACH
SHOULD EXCEED HIS GRASP.
- Dane
...back...
