Bottle of Soda with Mentos

My writing skills have been shredded and spit upon, these be my blatant thoughts.

It's known that dreams do not reflect reality, but then why does it seem so? It readily mocks me that what I try to hide is who I am, how I think, and how I shall act.

I've been hiding my feelings, as I always do. It's not towards anyone particular or rather it's not towards one person.

I'm spiteful and people deny that I am but I am. No one can know who you are except for you or at least unless you are bad at self-evaluation. Thus, I am saying I am vindictive, spiteful, and vengeful. It isn't public neither is it explicit; it is a parasite that lives within me that bloats and abates.

I was speaking to a comrade ( ha ha) and I was reasoning with him about those who are indeed good people and those who are lacking. My point of view was that I think everyone is capable of being sincere and genuine but it depends on how well you know that person, not everyone will reveal who they truly are to you. I cannot take anyone's surface personality for anything because it is meaningless. Only until I have successfully cut to the pulsing, bleeding heart, until then will I come to accept that I may know what kind of person they truly are.

Yet, this will never come to be. People are not picture books that allow the reader to know everything; unfortunately, the reader will never be omniscient. I still find out important features and memories from my best friend, who I've known for 9-10 years.

It isn't possible to completely understand someone, but I suppose there are times when one digging will reveal enough for satisfaction.

I dislike how my ideas are always abstract because I don't trust and cannot reveal what my inner thoughts are.

I admit this blog lacks flow and is butchered. My apologies.