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Noh mask.

The subject of 'insecurity' has come to my attention many times. It's one of those pesky truths about life, but most especially about adolescence. The whole world lives in a perpetual state of insecurity, and it causes unnecessary apprehension in your being.
I know, for the most part, that this blog has been anonymous...but, I want to attach myself to it. Honestly. Completely. Faithfully. Something resembling a functional relationship, that I will never actually obtain in reality.

Last night, I attempted to be honest. Not the kind of honest where you simply tell the forgiving truth, but the kind of honest where you tell the truth exactly the way it appears in your mind. The kind people, appreciative of honesty or not, never ever want to hear. Honest in the way that seems cruel. The kind of honesty your mind damns you to deal with, but not the kind it intends for you to share.
Consequently, it was not appreciated, a result I expected, a result I could understand. Still, I love the person I was honest with. Not the kind of love where you swoon, but the kind where you would take a bullet, or a knife to the heart, if that would ensure their longevity and happiness in life. I had hoped they would see me finally opening my soul, they would appreciate and admire it, they would do so in turn, and it would prove our love true ever lasting. That, expectantly, did not occur. They were angered and hurt, and I was not apologetic, simply sympathetic. I used to swoon over said person. I had been in love. I am not anymore. I know that tonight, for absolute sure, after last night.

Nevertheless, I feel that experience upset something deep within me, but also aroused a new taste of free-will. What might become of all my relationships with others if I was the most pure state of honest with them? They say that truth is priceless and divine, but to me the "truth" leaves much to be desired and I do not believe that world wants it.

See, 'truth' is like a beautiful woman, who so hideously sleeps with many men and even worse, she smiles about it and deems herself guiltless for being honest. You dislike her, and you may deny her validity, but you must admit her courage, but more importantly, her beauty...you can't hate her.

Most people are moral and just, which is why most people are not honest. The truth is offensive, immoral, inappropriate, and vulgar. Should I become a student of dishonesty, and live my life with a façade to ensure my place in society? Or should I become a slave to honesty, and live my life by the current, with no shield but also with no vice?

I think, Reader, you could see why I might be amused by the latter.

Review: Tekkonkinkreet

Tekkonkinkreet is an absolutely excellent film. There is so much to discuss regarding this movie, I barely know where to start. For those of you Anime fans (like me), you'll appreciate the detailed animation. However, even if you are not a fan of 'cartoons', upon watching this movie, you will have to admit the very crucial and incredibly profound plot exhibited so meticulously.
This is what the back of the DVD box says:

"...In Treasure Town, life can be both gentle and brutal. This is never truer for our heroes, Black and White, two street urchins who watch over the city, doing battle with an array of old-world Yakuza and alien assassins vying to rule the decaying metropolis."

The movie is an adaptation from Aniplex and Sony pictures of the popular manga written by Taiyo Matsumomo. I can not stress what a good flick this is. There is a depth to it that is too deep and too diverse for me to explain to you, it's something you must witness for yourself and will affect you as an individual. This is not a new picture, I believe it was released in 2007, but I had the pleasure of watching it for the first time about 3 months ago. It's definitely one of my absolute favorites now.

Btw: a "Yakuza" pretty much refers gangster in Japanese, but it is not a direct translatable word

Vexed

People are so terribly disappointing. I'm sure it's no one's fault, simply they are at fault for being human. Still, I find myself newly disappointed all the time. I know I am greatly liable, being as I am also condemned to constant inconsistency. Sometimes, I wish words didn't exist. I wish I didn't have to communicated with you through these absurd letters. I feel so foolish, because it is a vain attempt at a connection. My petty attempt at intercourse with you, The Reader. All I have ever wanted was intimacy with you, a stranger. I fear my words do not have conviction enough to entice such an exceptional act. Can you tell, Reader? That I can never get to the core of my conviction? That I run in a circle of futile attempts to actually express what I really mean? It's such a strain to hold back, but it's impossible to release. How, I ask you, how can I ever be a decent, let alone note-worthy writer, if I can not learn to release? Not in any sense, do I know how to release. Not when I speak, not when I touch, and certainly not when I write.

However, I hold this inter-web journal (or whatever you may call it) close to my mind.
You shall not perish, dear Reader.

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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/thurayya

Evolve

My life is taking shape, I will soon diminish and in my place a new specimen will emerge.

Once, I was told that when a caterpillar goes into it's cocoon, it embarks on a unbelievable journey of transformation. However, the pain felt by the caterpillar is so remarkable, that I could only imagine how physically agonizing it actually is. Still, I think I'm beginning to understand how mentally and emotionally dreadful it is.
The other day, my younger sister told me she was afraid of growing up and that she would avoid doing so if given the choice. I should have told her that she was wise, but instead, I lied and told her there was nothing to be afraid of. Funny thing is, when I was her age, I was so excited to grow up. I was convinced that I would simply grow wings and fly...I've yet to grow wings, I am nothing like the caterpillar.

But perhaps, one must build their own wings.

Sora

Our parents are our greatest patrons and our worst enemies. They may have simply brought you into the world, or they may have gone further to bring you up in the world, and if you're anything like me, they brought you up so far, only to abandon you mid-childhood. The influence and impressions they cement into our minds are so deep and detailed, even we can not fully comprehend. We can not abandon our parents, just like they can never really deny us. We are their legacy in the flesh, whether it be positive or negative, they are instilled in our fingertips.

For instance, my mother.

My mother was a beautiful woman. She was intelligent, imaginative, exciting and interesting...However, she was also, a habitual liar, manipulative, and exceedingly selfish. I can't stress the amount of influence this woman had on me. To me, my mother was the bravest, kindest, and most beautiful creature alive! She always knew exactly what to do when a problem might arise, but she particularly knew exactly what to say. If ever I have known a temptress, my mother is she. This Jezebel woman, could wrap anyone, man/or woman, around her finger with mere conversation. She was eerily witty, and undeniably talented in her skill to make you believe she was right, even when she was horribly wrong. In short, she was a tactician.

One of my biggest fears is to be like her, but I am afraid that is exactly who my personality resembles.

They say that ultimately you decide who and what you are, and while I'm sure this is partially true, it's not in its entirety. You are shaped by your environment, and you are molded into a reflection of some sort. Individuality is your soul, something you came with, something hidden and protected layers beneath, and it's the strength to dig deep within yourself and find it, that's makes you a better/different individual. However, your senses are used every hour or every day, and are in constant contact with the outside world. You hear, see, touch, taste, smell, your surroundings, your persuasive habitat.
For so long, I used all my energy to conduct myself in a way not influenced by anything...or so I thought, but the truth was, I was doing exactly what I was taught.

I was being exactly who everyone expected me to become.
I am much more predictable then I would ever like to admit.