Twisted

I was helping my good friend Charles with his literature assignment last Thursday and it hit me.

I am so freaking metaphorical.

I thought I was just being descriptive with all of the 'rain of sadness' kind of shit, but I thought hard about it while I was jogging yesterday as David Guetta tunes blare out of the cheap earphones of my iPhone. How did I become so metaphorical over the past few months? Neil Gaiman's Jingo did not have a lot of metaphors as it was the last novel I've read, what more than my Strength of Materials textbook which bores me to death with its countless beams and supports? God I hate textbooks. Someone should revise every textbook in my table and inject them all with humor, or drawings of cute little stars and hearts and other girly crap like that.

Maybe I should.

This is the reason why I am staring to loathe jogging. It makes me think so much about the most random of things, and even my stinky pile of problems that I do not want to discuss. I bought cheap earphones so I can divert my attention to how a particular song gets me so pumped up and how I will make running more complicated than, well, running. But this is not the case, much to my dismay. Kinda makes me think of skipping Black Eyed Peas and Lady Gaga for just something as simple as a long beeping sound so my ears can bleed themselves out. That way, I won't be able to hear anything, not even my thoughts.

How morbid.

And emo, at that.

I still remember this certain phrase I've read in Second Helpings, the second installment of the Sloppy Firsts series. My thoughts create my world. Marcus Flutie said this to Jessica Darling and it seriously punched me in the face. If I have good thoughts, then I have a good world. Otherwise, then I have a bad world to live in. The weird part about it is that I neither have good nor bad thoughts; they're always twisted, at some point. Like it's this shaft that's subjected to an infinite angle of twist. Once it is twisted, it goes on and on and on until another soft shaft molds into it and twists for the rest of my life.

But the good thing about it is that the ends of shafts stay the same way as they are, no matter how you twist them in the most crazy-ass way you can think of. Those ends represent my personality.

I stay the same as my thoughts twist infinitely.

My twisted thoughts create my twisted but hella fun world.

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