Patterns of Emotions

As some of you may know, I seem to have this ability to predict what you are going to say. If you didn't then there you go. It does have limitations though, it does not work well on people I don't know (I can only narrow down the possible outcomes, not accurate enough to pinpoint exact actions or words, but enough to predict the most likely ones), and predicting exact words really is a matter of luck. I realized why I can "predict" human behavior. Humans of all things in nature, are predictable, unlike your everyday horse or bee, humans are a tad bit more complicated, but still, predictable.

Detour:

There seems to be this mathematical phenomena discovered by Leonardo DaVinci (yes, that Mona Lisa guy) called the Golden Ratio which pretty much maps out everything in nature mathematically. Of course, that's not ENTIRELY the case, because if it was, the "mathematically beautiful" would look more like Angelina Jolie instead of a random hobo, in fact that's what a study discovered, Mr. Leo isn't always correct. But his idea of an overall pattern in nature is still applicable, generally, not precise-to-the-dot accurate but hey...

Back to topic, this habit of mine, of saying what you are going to say before you say it. Its second nature for me to create this formula in my head (think of it as a mathematical function all you mathematicians eg. f(x)=...) , and factor in your personality and hey presto, I have a prediction. Sounds easy, in reality it is a lot more complicated and abstract than that, but i'm used to it. Now that I have the results, all I need to decide now is whether to say it or not, which could influence the mutual relationship between you, people around us, and me. I could also give myself away, allowing you to do similar judgments on me, which naturally, I wouldn't want (or would I? see this is the Great Paradox of Artking if you will, you will always need to see both sides of the coin to see if its two faced, or two tailed, or normal, either of which is possible, and even then it would be hard for you to know my motives).

Recently, I realized that the reason why my predictions aren't 100% (or close to) accurate is because i base my data on emotions, not so much the intellectual or rational part of the brain. I realized that all along I was actually "feeling" what people feel, kinda creepy I know.

I set myself this challenge, because I find that constantly doing this thing I do doesn't really help me or you or anyone else. If anything it makes my head want to blow, WAY too much information is being processed. I'd like to be a "victim" for once, helpless to the actions of the world around me. Often it feels so lonely, being myself, as all other people do, I want to try, just for once, to "fit it", destroying my "individuality" in the process. Well of course you would wonder, would I have hypothesized what I would feel during this self set challenge? well, I leave you to answer that question, a paradox in itself. Didn't I stand for individuality? Didn't I say that people are born who they are, unique in the eye of God? Well, all I can say is, frankly I don't care anymore. I'm tired of living an entire life within a few seconds, tired of experiencing things that should be beyond my physical self.

You could say I "know" what is about to happen to myself, then why would I do it anyway? Perhaps, perhaps to know and to experience are two separate phenomena of the human mind. Its funny how you can "know" the future and live through it at the same time, something like Dr. Manhattan, maybe I know what he feels like now (I do believe that he is fictional, its just something to stimulate the Watchmen readers out there reading this blog).

you only live once,
Artking

Dear diary,

Indeed this is another one of my English homework tasks, that I think is good enough to be posted here. The task is to write a diary entry to investigate the use of various language techniques. Dear Nexas, I am not suicidal.


Dear diary,

Will this be the last time I’ll write in you from the “comfort” of my room? The last entry written on my bed, somewhere in this inner-city suburb? As much as the cold hard street below stinks, it is 10 times worse in here, trust me.

I can hear my father, just beyond my closed room door, shouting at mom. World's most convincing drama if you ask me, I get a dose of it pretty much everyday, or at least when the dadium and momium particles collide. As if that’s gonna solve their problems. It’s funny how simple things like money and lipstick can tear apart the two people who made me.

There were nights when I cried like the kid I was, the quit sob I cried trying not to give in to “weakness” when I fell and grazed my knees, and I thought that was painful. Some nights I distracted myself with studies and stuff that other teens do, anything other than my parents. But tonight is different. I feel like I’ve been crushed in the debris of a collapsed building, but I’m not aware of the pain I’m supposed to be in, because I’m about to leave this world, and everything around me is fading into a bright light. I think I’ve earned this numbness, after all this bullcrap I’ve been through.

I feel this calling, a strong desire, almost a longing, all my life, to run away, escape this hell hole, before everything turns apeshit, with me in the middle of it all. Nothing has hurt me more than this, and nothing will. I cannot possibly be selfish in this decision. If anyone, they should be the ones mature enough to sort this out, bloody hypocrites. I’ve waited long enough, no more tomorrows. It should be easier for them when I’m gone. No longer will I be around to piss them off, “...what do we do with the lil-shit?” I’ll be on the streets somewhere, looking for something, or someone, somehow...

you only live once,
Artking

Down and Never Up

This a piece of homework I did for English as part of poetic studies. It was originally meant to be four lines of poetry, but I decided to finish what I started. The point of the task is to investigate the effect of poetic techniques and their applications in poetry as well as how feelings can be communicated indirectly. I did not get the chance to present my poem due to time constraints but here it is anyway. In case you are wondering, I am not psychotic.

My heart is chained to a mountain,
A burden too heavy to carry.
My heart is bound by the stem of a rose,
Piercing with every heartbeat.

Rid me of these memories,
These hideous acts of crime.

Should I run?
Should I hide?
Either way,
The demons will hunt me down,
I am never alone.


you only live once,
Artking.