I think I’m really tired. Nothing is happy or nice rn.

...

I’ll be fine. And even if I’m not, there are sharp metal sticks of fun, that will make me fine.

My great grandmother, one I never met, used to say “If you want a hole dug, grab a shovel!“ which means if you have a dream, work towards it.

Needs improvement. Written on a whim.

A poem in response to nyleda‘s poem “who i write about”
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3724125/who-i-write-about/

How can I dream after that?! That kind of mood in a conversation puts bells in any dude’s mind, attracted or not (I fell towards the latter). Christ, I’m not gonna sleep soundly tonight...

I always wonder this for two firsts with a friend:
When I first swear,
And when I first make a ****** remark or joke.
(Dark humor is usually acceptable for ppl my age if the previous is ok)

People used to make fun of me for writing poetry, I cared and stopped. Then I needed it, so I stopped caring. They’re just people not even worthy of attention.

It was, in fact, a big series of coincidences and cut corners that led to this tragedy. Horrible luck, I do say.

Still, don’t cut yourself to the point I did. There is not one scar on my forearm or my hand that will ever go away for good. I can still see all of them, some clear as day, others are slightly less visible. I stopped because the pain dulled, and the wound would scab over in less than 3 minutes.

Inspired by misreading a poem. (Misread have for hate...)

I realized that I’ve never seemed to have the same effect on others with my writing as others’s work has had an effect on me. Sometimes, there’s more to believing than seeing though, so I’ll hope that somewhere, sometime, I’ll invoke the intended emotion into someone.

From out there, even the rumbles of highways are distant, echoed, and slightly distorted.

You never can tell who someone is just by their eyes. Who knows, god could have red eyes, and satan has golden ones. Maybe it’s just an alien overlord. I probably should’ve gone with silver eyes though, they’re more natural.

My mind is full of IT stuff today...

Actual notes this time? Has Adrian gone insane?

The title is a play on words, i put quarter instead of razor bc 2 syllables and two sides of the same coin.

The term ‘init’ (said “in it”) defines the first process that starts in a unix-based computing system.

Yes. Surprisingly (at least to me) I’m more math-oriented than english/language-oriented (close-ish call, but not really)

When there’s a will, There’s a way. I really want to keep the word love off of the top of the list though. I am in belief that I will do it.

Ok, so here is a lesson on IT. There’s a networking transmission model called the OSI model. It has seven layers on either side of a communication. Here they are:

1. Application (creates data to send)
2. Presentation (translates data into sendable data)
3. Session (establishes and terminates communication sessions)
4. Transport (identifies what is being transported (how to handle it))
5. Network (creates a path across networks)
6. Data link (creates a path across the local network)
7. Physical (cables and stuff)

That’s the sending end. The receiving end is the inverse. I formatted each line to each process in the layer, and used the layer number to define how many syllables in the corresponding line. I honestly find IT networking communications a really intriguing subject. The best way to explain the OSI model is by using the mail system and letters as an example.

The word silhouette is a pain to spell. Took me 6 tries then a google search.
This is true though, when I don’t know what to do, I’ll look back, see what I did, then do the exact opposite, because I obviously didn’t do things right the first time.

Everyone else: not using notes section.
Me: telling stories and jokes in notes section.

Side note: this is not anything perverse. Just expressing a relationship as fruit.

Yes, Aidan is my real name. Adrian is part of an anagram of my full name, and is the pen name I decided on. I saw someone with a rant poem, so I tried it. It’s meh.

Written on my phone.
Kida like the ate poem I wrote
(I’m gonna stop rhyming with “own/one” now)
JK! Ugh, now it’s time to atone...

Q’s stood for questions. A’s is answers. Someone said to me at one point “I find boys who write poetry really distracting.” I don’t recall the name of who said to me, I can’t even remember what they looked like or even where we were. I’m not sure if I want the one I like to say that to me, or to see that person again. I’m kinda stupid for thinking like this.

Just read The Masque of The Red Death. That’s where my inspiration lies.

I’m sorry if the previous note offended anyone in any way.

Written like a day or two ago, I completely forgot that this plagued me. I honestly don’t care anymore bc it’s probably some random person I talked to at a convention for a bit, not like I’ll see them again. Also that first line isn’t what happened, I’m pretty sure it just came up in average conversation.

I remember the sights like these that I saw on the way to climb Mt. Washington back in August. I was a bit nervous at first bc it’s such a tall mountain and I was doing the second hardest route, but it was fun... and it absolutely killed my legs for the next 3 days.

a haiku written with only e's. I did it in math class a while back. It actually is more than just a jumble of words. ('es' is Spanish for 'is')

A LOT OF ELLITERATION HA... HA... HA...

I honestly wonder who
This write would go to.
I wonder if they knew
How deeply I caught love’s flu.

“You know it’s sad but truuuuee”
-from “Sad But True” by Metallica

True story. I oftentimes think that nobody notices all these formatted poems I write. For example, Fulfillment has a template consisting of the syllables per each word type in a line; verbs and nouns, and then dividing the syllables between them. This poem starts off at 3 syllables and adds one onto each succeeding line, and the number of lines per stanza increases by 1 for each stanza.

My eyes are weird, man. The main color is supposedly hazel, but it is two different colors in concentric circles (that blend a bit but not too much). The steel blue is a mystery to me though. It’s happened twice.

I want to continue reading “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” by Edgar Allan Poe, but I don’t know whyI can’t start it. I really enjoy it so far.

I mean it’s not like she uses the sight,
Right?
I hope she doesn’t see all of this. Embarrassing stuff...

Fantasies that fail to uphold their truth...

I think... yeah, that title was the phrase I was looking for. In a way it is the opposite side of the same coin with an ultimatum. Think about that for a bit.

I mean I grow taller and my brain moves up. So it also works in literal meaning, I’m standing alone in idiocy that’s growing higher.

I **** at splits. I may be somewhat flexible, but I’m not that flexible. Kudos to any dudes who can do that.

Welp I hope,
Much like a dope.
And for now,
I’ll painfully hide my mope.

They’ve liked their wings
And have taken a flight.

Wasn’t sure where to put these two lines so I put them here.

The earth is roughly 8,000 miles through, that’s where the 1/8 comes from.

I’m bored so I guess I’ll play Minecraft. A bunch of new updates have come since like 2015 so I kinda wanna check it out.

I took the R from Ryan and swapped around the letters in Aidan to make Adrian. I would’ve done Austin but my name doesn’t have a U T or S in it.

Meant to be a poem about how I pose some questions in my poetry and that these questions are ones I fear to vocalize. I might’ve missed my target, who knows besides all of you folks.

It got repetitive within a heartbeat (ha... ha... ha...). And after being too repetitive, it brought itself into my bitter contempt. Jealousy is powerful...

The crashing of my soul’s window,
A sound unlike any other crescendo

Christ... before this poem I had written 232 poems, most of which were written since I joined in the end of November. Reminds me of the RS-232 serial connection for managing a network device.