A brighter tomorrow??

I keep going to sleep at night awaiting a brighter tomorrow: that never seems to come. Maybe i only remember the days like this/ when i feel alienated among man kinds. unable to relate, incompatible. I am overly sensitive to their negativity, and ridicule. I feel so deeply, that the tiniest little vibration hurts tremendously. I have been cast aside, i have screwed over, and the only time i remember feelings on top, was when i was soaring above, numb to the world. I do not feel a need to go on. If you throw me in therapy, and pour drugs down my throat, all your doing is killing me. Every fiber of me dead, and in turn creating a zombie. Who does that help? you! You cannot accept that some souls are so tortured from past lives, and current, that every moment is like an immobilizing pain. What would you have me do? to live with this, to satisfy you? pretend i am okay and happy? i am done pretending, when no one on this earth can relate or show me the same consideration i construe or convey to them. I do not hate all living beings, i hate those which make life just a little worse. I am just so far away from the light, i can no longer feel its glow on my face. -Jessica J


Philosophy Of A Borderline by Jessi James is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at jamesborderline.blogspot.com

Illusionary Fantastic

Illusionary Fantastica –“Fantastica” stemming from the disorder Pseudologia Fantastica. Compulsive lying, to manifest a whole world in a web of lies.  Illusionary Fantastica was an ongoing project conducted by myself, Jessi J. The study was canceled due to information compromise. Illusionary Fantastica – to paint a world in one’s own mind, and disown reality, not on a permanent basis. Although lying may be a common ground between the two, they are not the same in characteristics. I.F. is wanting to live in the fantasy created in one’s own mind. The fantasy is always the same fantasy. Characters within the fantasy man change. Example: Suzie believe she is married to actor John Doe. She obsesses over actor John Doe, fills her mind with every detail of his being, and his past. And adds more detail to her mental Fantasy as her knowledge grows. A patient exhibiting signs of Pseudologia Fantastica, may have several fantasies they move between during their separation with reality.

This project has since been stopped, due to the fact, my work was ruined by a hacker.

Philosophy Of A Borderline by Jessi James is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at jamesborderline.blogspot.com

A tale as old as time (work in progress)

The day the wonder and mystery fades, is when the cold truth seeps into your fiber, your consciousness.  Only when we are truly breath taken by wonder is it truly ever wonderful.  As is the case with myself, having seen, experienced, learned, and formed a perception, is there no turning back. Greatest wonders and mysterious have become no longer mysterious nor wonderful.  They get stripped away, taking along with them my passion, and often my will, or motivation. My drive for life, for uncovering each new day, has faded long ago. I can’t go back and undo the effects I’ve caused, nor can anyone undo the effects they have caused. I can’t unlearn, un see, un feel the cold depth that the world is masking below the surface of everything.

                Maybe being naive is truly bliss – as in blissfully unaware, blissfully ignorant. The fact is I’ve seen the cold, dark, seedy underbelly; I cannot go back to believing it to be anything more than what I’ve experienced, than what I’ve perceived.  If existentialism is correct, I’ve led myself to see the world this way. If its correct then I am subconsciously right where I want to be. Whether I see it or not, I allowed myself to find this path, I allowed myself to continue to follow this path. Point being life will never be the same, to anyone. We all feel differently, we’ve all experienced different steps, even if we have the same end result.

When I am around or within reach of temptation; I cannot say no. The difference with the new me, and old me being: I do not seek a situation that will involve any type of temptation. I am not saying I cannot partake, I am merely stating that I am not only driven to continually be in that state. Recovering addicts cannot be taught the lessons we learn on the way back from temptation. We are doomed to only believe it when we see it happening, and even then some can’t wrap their minds around it. Recovery is not magic, there is no easy way, there’s no magic remedy. What there will be, is a new awakening, a new found perception. The perception that we’ve seen hell, and back; and it hasn’t dragged us down to the pits of hell, because we wouldn’t allow it. There’s no sudden cure, it’s a disease. I’ve heard many argue it is not a disease. Is a disease not, a lifelong battle for an incurable aliment? That more than describes the symptoms of an addict.

                Anything easily procured, or acquired usually has a catastrophic drop or downfall. Its amazing how quickly, yet thoroughly we become addicts. Addiction can happen to anyone, anytime. The Rich, The Poor, The Smart, The Dumb, The Lazy, The Motivated, The Strong, The weak, The Pure, Or The Evil. And every fathomable combination in between . We need the drugs, to escape from hardship(s) of raw reality. For many addiction stems from poor coping skills. Inability to cope with good, or bad, do drugs to give way to an alternate perception of reality. Making bad less bad, making good, seem more triumphant.

                One person may become an addict due to recreational use. Party’s or social settings usually are fueled by inebriation. Drugs are what gave birth to parties: “I used this, it felt good. We should gather together and feel good together. Allow our inhibitions to lower, and make us stupefied.”  Even the most simple minded can wrap their mind around such. Drugs are a tale as old as time.

                Addiction, A dependence usually has two sides. Physical, and emotional; Getting emotional/Mental withdrawals is just as terrifying as the physical withdrawals.  Most with an addiction deny they are an addict. Not because they’re liars, more directly because they do not realize. Addiction sneaks up very subtly lulling you into a false security of drug you. You’re safe because you’re not this or that stereo type (as I previously explained). They are in a fantastica (false reality) about themselves. They want to lie to you, because they don’t want to admit the truth to themselves let alone another. That’s why the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. They basically get you to admit your addict as much as possible because they want you to be okay with the term addict, and feel secure in admitting you have or have had a problem. There is no shame in addiction, it just means your hiding from one thing or another, or have been altering your reality so long, its hard to come back to the reality we share. You notice your body screaming with every ounce inside of you, telling you it doesn’t want this. It has become accustomed to lifestyle that it doesn’t want to release. Most times in recovering you melt down, wanting to deny this life, wanting to escape the dull, painful reality. Wanting to rip your skin from your muscles and muscles from bone, to get rid of the plague you have poisoned your body with.

                Realizing there is a problem, and that you have lost control; Feeling like a robot, powered and fueled by the addiction. Seeing only the addiction, everything else just becomes black, life becomes a hellish abyss; Living day to day only to satisfy the addiction. Addiction over powers all reason, and any conscience you had. It will slowly grow, consuming all in its path. I think the important thing to remember for family, and loved ones of the addict, is simply the fact, this no longer is the person you know. They may never be that person again, but all is never lost. No matter how far you or someone else have gone, there is always a way out. I know many times it seems pointless, and impossible, but that’s wrong. I know when people said that to me, I didn’t listen to them. I thought, if they could only see my life, the things that drive me to keep using. Or if they could feel how bad these physical withdrawals are, they would know that its beyond pain. That I was the worst case scenario and that the only way to quit, would be when I left this earth. I feared any type of imprisonment, jail, prison, rehab, being stranded somewhere, a place I would have to face my demons alone, head on. But that day did in fact come. It was more than due to come find me. It wasn’t easy, like I previously said, there is no magic cure, no simple route. You just have to breathe, and remember that as existentialism states we make our own happiness. And that’s our obligation to our own happiness. Are you happy as an addict? Searching for a fix? Avoiding life? The drugs may make you think you are, but just take one moment, look at your life, and how quickly you have gotten where you are. Now imagine how much further you will go, if you carry on in this manner. Days begin to seem longer, harder, and leave you just a little bit weaker.

                An Addiction is not cut and dry. Once recovered you are always an addict, always battling to not fall into your previous mistakes. Hence the addiction being referred to as a Disease. Addicts take no ease in learning the recovery is a lifelong battle, usually best to teach the tools they need momentarily, than to teach the disease’s long term effects and complications. In Narcotics and Alcoholics Anonymous they teach you to live “one day at a time” and their correct. Taking it one day at a time is less over whelming to focus on. It’s always harder getting into a project, knowing it can take a lifetime to complete.  It seems like the addiction seems to blind you, and hypnotize you into believing souly in it. Making you feel trapped into continuing use. I’ve seen several good people, of strong will, being sucked down and eaten alive by this demon. It doesn’t have to be your end in this world, and addiction isn’t it for you. Once you come out of it, and you can see clearly. You begin to experience the depression of everyday. Everyday seeming like your personal breaking point. You see all the things you’ve done wrong, and all the people you’ve hurt. Which can drag you down more, some it does, some it doesn’t. The best thing to keep in mind, is everyday feeling content, and happy with your choices. Thus making you a happy person and less susceptible to being over whelmed and sucked back into a life you don’t really want to be.

                I’ve noticed some people want to be clean, only when the drugs are gone. To quote a song by Everlast “saving grace” – “If you’re losing your high, your losing your faith.” That single sentence spoke spades to me when I was using. Getting clean isn’t something to be done to lower your tolerance, to help you cope through a week where the drugs are few and far between. Sobriety must be come to in ones own time, for true results. You have to literally be sickened by the thought of another day wasted, and tossed aside like a candy wrapper. 

-Jessi J <to be continued>


Philosophy Of A Borderline by Jessi James is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at jamesborderline.blogspot.com

Oh what a night. (a short i did awhile back)

I stare into your eyes, your still, as if you’re a photograph. You seem so rugged, your hair, course harsh lining your face. You stand, you hover above me. I feel safe, when my body is screaming to be apprehensive. You stand looking down, your eyes never break contact. You say “It’s okay” in a tone of security, yet so gentle and quiet, it’s as if the words didn’t want to leave your mouth. Your take your long, strong arms, and your wrap them around me. As if you want to comfort me in appearance, but in your heart you just had to be close enough to press our bodies together. I take you in, slowly. You roll into my face like a cloud of smoke; I inhale you, and feel you as your course through my veins. You become like the blood, shooting into my heart. You inhabit the heart, as you take control from the inside out. And I can feel you, as I breathe back out, smoke rolls from my mouth. A kiss, has never been so mysterious, and yet, so intense it shook me to my core. You back up, your arms swing back, bad posture, but it appears as if you’re warning all the males nearby. You stare, neither of us speak. The intensity I feel radiating from your eyes, seem to have control. I fear no words I say will be anything in comparison to what we have between us. Your long fingers switch as you close your hands, and await a word from me, any word. But alas I cannot speak, as if my mind a new born babe, cannot fathom any word in any vocabulary known to man. You pull out a chair, using your body language offer me a seat. We sit, I know I must seem strange, a word must leave my lips, I fear if they don’t, you will disappear as quickly as you came.

“I have never felt someone kiss me in such a way before..” I spoke softly, my voice cracks as if I had just awoken. You chuckled, I remember you laughed as if I was being modest. “You sat there, the only girl in the coffee shop looking so sad. Writing in your notebook, with such..”
 you paused, searching for exactly how to relay what you saw, into my mind perfectly. “As if any world, beyond this world, is where you wanted to be. I stood there, watching you for a several minutes, and had to come over. I didn’t plan on a kiss, but I knew I had to show there are things in this world that are worth your gaze.” You spoke it so poetically, I felt as if I had just been read the most beautiful poem, any girl could hear. I remember smiling back at you, as the man at the counter shouted your name, and you rushed off. It was so crowded that day, and I was still inebriated by you, that I Didn’t even hear your name.

Remembering this now, it seems like a dream. So many years ago, you having been that charming man in the coffee shop. The one who turned my world upside down with one short embrace. Do you know I returned to that coffee shop, again and again, just hoping to find you, Or learn your name even. I always hoped if I went there to write, that again, you would show your face. Come up and kiss me with that kiss of inspiration you gave me once before. You truly were a muse, in every aspect of the word. After that day we saw each other, I wrote like I had never written before. It changed me, but not necessarily away from who I was. It made me more concentrated, I was able to write much more vividly. I could have painted the world with the inspiration that embedded itself with in me. To this day if I contract Writers Block, all I need do, is return to that very spot. I used to swear I saw you in markets, walking ahead of me on the cold New York streets. I would walk faster, catch up, and realize it couldn’t be you. You wouldn’t be the type of man that would read those books. You wouldn’t be the type of man to yell crastly on your cellular phone. Often I wondered if you even would remember me, if we should see one another again. I wonder still, if I had the impact upon your life that you had on mine.

I think everyone that I allowed to hear this story, thought me to be of the insane. Maybe I wrote the story, and thought it to be true. But only you and I, among the thousands in this city, know it to be true. Perhaps it was a bit insane to hold out blind hope of a second encounter. Something inside of me wouldn’t allow me to let go. It wasn’t until many years later, that I saw the face, Walking into an office, for an interview about my upcoming book release, I dropped my notes. Pages flew all over, blowing down the hall way with the wind. One tall man, dark haired, broadest shoulders I have ever seen. Stopped in his tracks, knelt down and picked up pages. As he turned to pick up a few more, and return them to the rushed woman. That I saw your face again, and I remained speechless again. But determined to find a name for this man who had single handedly given me the best gift. A gift of hope, and beauty, in an unsure, sometimes cold city. Our hands touched again, and I said “it’s you.” Hoping deep inside of me, you knew who I was. Had you not, I was sure I would lose all the good, that you had done for me. “We meet again. Tell me is the world able to be gazed upon?” you said with that same intense poetry you had all those years ago. “It does, and thank you for sharing your inspiration with me. I must add it has filled the pages of many notebooks, and now pages of my book.” I said, wanting to sound as if I had it all together, when in reality I was shaking inside. “I had no idea, I’d been taken into such capable hands.” You said. “I simply must take you out, to celebrate. I really haven’t anyone else to celebrate this new book deal with, that could possibly be more befitting than you!”  I said almost afraid that you would decline. “would could I refuse you?” you said with a smile “Im afraid I don’t even know your name?” I asked shyly “Its Anthony Defazio” you said, in an almost serene moment, while we shuffled down the hall way. -Jessi J

Philosophy Of A Borderline by Jessi James is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at jamesborderline.blogspot.com

Intro To Philosophy Of A Borderline..

Philosophy is what we make it, its interpretation. This project is my search for the answers to: my life, my mistakes, and my future. Maybe that’s subjective to each individual. This is just one journey of a fucked up girl, whose desperate searching for the answers, led her here. I hope that through this anyone struggling like i did, and do, will find the answers, or the path they need. Possibly feel comfort in knowing there are others out there that are struggling and searching for a reason to why we're here, and why we're such a mess psychologically. Much like the authors Suzanna kaysen, Beverly D'onofrio, And Dorthy Parker have done for me. Life is a tough shell to crack, but maybe leaving it uncracked and learning why it’s a shell at all is the best course, but on the other hand, maybe diving in there head first and asking questions later is the right choice, Interpretation. Every new beginning must come from another beginnings end. So keep that in mind as you walk the journey of life.


Philosophy of a borderline: Ambivalence means to be torn between two courses of action. Example: Live or die, it implies strong feelings in both choices, and uncertainty of which path is the right choice.  Insanity, text book insanity the act of repeating the same act again and again, hoping for different results. this definintion has always bothered me, seeing as how some of the greatest minds of our times, have repeated the same act again and again in hopes of different results. The difference is, they were creating the same act, but altered it. Such as Devinci and his flying machine, small tweaks are not the same act. The acts in which insanity refers to, is like putting yourself in a bad situation time and time again, thinking this time will be different.
            I consider myself in between, snug in the middle of the two. An Ambivalent insane. My meaning, to be unsure if you really are crazy or not. You have very lucid moments in time when you realize you are not, for lack of a better term, sane. Being unable to define the line between reality and imaginary, being one’s own worst enemy. Committing acts that you know full well are self-damaging. Being uncertain of any future or if you even want a future. The technical term for this is: Borderline personality Disorder.
            I am Jessica, and i suffer from this every day. Does this make me mentally weak? You tell me. I’m no slouch, no moron, do i over think, yes. Does my mind keep me awake at night reeling about things that are said and done long ago, yes. Am i going to go insane and murder everyone, no! I'm very passive, but i have my moments. Just like everyone there’s good days and bad days. We are high functioning in society; mainly because we are aware of our illness, and limitations. Some borderlines do not even know they have the disease. Mental illness has a huge stigma in the states, many people are too afraid to seek help, or simply unaware there is even a problem. But then on the other hand, there are some borderline’s who get progressively worse over time. Eventually forgetting what a normal life is, or feels like. We begin to feel trapped in our own minds. Almost unaware how far we've been buried in our own afflictions. The oddest part is how we can commit such dangerous actions; without one moment of thought for what our actions may cause. And yet, we can over think everything else. Such as the lyrics to a song, or a conversation with someone. Replaying things over and over in our minds. Analyzing every word or body movement.
            A lot of borderlines end up with a chemical dependency. I am not sure why, exactly.  I know with me, i wanted to numb out the pain, be it emotional or physical. And because it slowed my mind down, so it wasn’t constantly going 100mph. And it helped with the daily anxiety i felt about everything and everyone. Getting off of the 7 year addiction, after suppressing everything so long, amplified the previous issues. When they all came back it felt like a wave had sucked me under and drug me out to sea. No matter how i struggle it doesn’t help. Someday i float along and others, i want to throw in the towel and let the ocean drag me under. End this misery once and for all.
            They say suicidal thoughts are part of the disease. Most people think the "suicidal thoughts" are only thoughts because we don’t really want to die, we just want attention. This may have the tiniest pebble of truth to it. We are trying to hurt ourselves, and kill ourselves to drown out the dark the dwells just under our surface. When you don’t want to feel anything anymore, death seems like the logical choice. When death draws near, only then do we begin to fear or prevent it. Our mortality which once seemed useless, or a punishment, now is a question of how far our bodies will carry us in this life. I haven’t reached the level of being grateful for every day. Maybe i never will. I don’t think that with all the different things my mind reels on - that i could ever be blindly happy. Or ignorant, for bliss. Maybe no one truly is.
            I've never set goals or standards for myself; it’s just not something my mind seems to process. My mind constantly runs with all kinds of thoughts, about the earth, mortality, life, the meaning of existence, existentialism. But goals and a future has never been on that list. I lay awake at night worrying about friends and family situations now, or if I’ll be able to be socially active due to my extreme anxiety.


Perception: Staring up at the night sky, the stars and moon - every night they'll be there as if they're awaiting the world to gaze upon their beauty. Romantic's tend to reference the stars and moon a lot; poets and writers alike. Maybe it's because of their natural beauty and wonder. Or maybe it’s because of their common ground, or Possibly their reliability in our life... A lot of them make reference to "Giving you the stars, or Moon" because it’s such a grand gesture. Wouldn’t you be wooed if someone gave you something as grand and one of a kind like the moon? Men seem to all topple over themselves to outdo other men in the art of Woo. As if it’s a sign of their man hood, or something. But they do it in hopes of procuring a mate, or possible suitors. And thus win the right to procreate with said woo-ee.
            It’s like everyone wants to live in a little sealed box. You all strive to keep indifference out, and yet applaud the Freud, and worship the art of vangogh; Because Freud made psychological claims based on his perception. Vangouh never sold a single painting in his life, and ironically in death is the appitamy of the art world. He led a long depressing life, and tried to express himself and his perception and everyone sneered at him. Then he dies, and wow, it’s like we've just discovered him. And the art world sits ringing its hands congratulating themselves for finding him. When, if we weren't so closed minded to difference and others perceptions he may have gotten to experience the appreciation of his works.
            Everyone perceives everything differently. The eye see's, sends a signal to the brain which in turn turns that into imaginary, which we perceive as reality. Two people can be exactly the same, but they aren’t perceiving things the same way. Those who claim to be, are making false statements. No two people, think, imagine, or perceive the same things the same ways. You may group them together because of common ground but do not make the mistake of ever thinking anyone will have the same perception you do. The world, the planet, it’s all ground we are all walking, But no two humans will ever experience the same journey.

            Perception of the meaning of life: The meaning of life, a question that has bugged the human race as long as we can remember. We have a hunger for a meaning to why we live, what we are created to do. We want to define all the things we experience, and research everything. Tag everything, and categorize it, and stick it in a dusty drawer never to be gazed upon again. Philosophers over time have all put their take on it. But when i was researching the afterlife, and what happens when we die, etc. i came upon Sylvia Browne's views of such. Basically she would have you believe we walk this earth to gain knowledge to take back to the other side. She describes the other side as sheer bliss, peaceful, and all knowing. If it is all knowing and so splendid, why do we come to earth? Why would we exist on earth only to learn? How does that make life fulfilling? Does this mean Sylvia doesn’t believe in evolution, or Darwin’s theory?
            Maybe the meaning of life isn’t as complicated as everyone tries to make it out to be. Maybe it’s always been, and always will be right in front of us. Finding happiness in the midst of war, Smiling when you want to cry, laughing when your broken hearted and worn down. Or tolerance when you’re at your wits ends, straddled with hardship. Maybe it’s just these little fleeting moments, like when a child put their hand in yours for guidance. A good deed done, when you didn’t have to. A Meal for the homeless when you don’t have next month’s rent. Coming home to a house full of loved ones, and memories. Knowing that tomorrow is another adventure you have yet to see.
            But if the meaning of life is simplicity, I’ve wasted my life over analyzing, studying cause and reaction. Most of all, it’s been wasted under appreciating. Be it family, friends, or love. I've underappreciated them all. I took the good for granted, been stuck so deeply in the bad, i didn’t know up from down. I've been waiting for something grander to happen to give me the faith that I’ve struggled to understand. When i was missing out on all the magic and wonder of days past. In the end, maybe realizing this is that grander sign I’ve awaited so long. Or maybe i am doing like everyone else, and I’m sealing myself in that box and refusing to feed my urge for further knowledge of anything that doesn’t conform to "box Life." Heck, maybe the meaning of life is security. Love security, having a counter point to depend on. Or maybe it’s an interpretive thing, depending on what 'level' we are on.

            Perception of the meaning of life/Existentialism: Blaise Pascal, Fredrich Nietzsche, and Soren Kierkegaard have got some fascinating views of the meaning of life, life fulfillment, and Existentialism. Which is something i am fully behind, and i believe should be more promenade in our states schooling curriculum. Existentialism was brought about by 19th century philosophers (Pascal, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard) whom despite their differences in their positions generally focused on the condition of human existence, and an individual’s emotions, actions, responsibilities, and thoughts - Or the meaning of the purpose of life. Existential philosophers often focused more on what was believed to be subjective. Like religion or human states of being, feelings and emotions. Pain, guilt, regret, happiness, freedom, fulfillment. As opposed to analyzing the objective like language, or science.
            Soren Kierkgaard is whom is referred to as the father of existentialism. He said that "The individual is solely responsible for giving his or her life meaning. And for living that life passionately and sincerely - in spite of distractions including despair, angst, absurdity, alienation, and boredom." Which is along the lines of what i believe. Going back to over thinking the meaning of life, and constantly being on the lookout for our fulfillment, and meaning. As if it’s going to fall from the sky into our laps. No one gets anything for nothing; we get what we put in. Those out looking will find that a lot sooner, than those awaiting the knowledge.
            To study the existence or non-existence of god - And how one constitutes a fulfilling life. Its traditionally systematic or academic philosophy in both style and content, as to the abstract and remote from concrete human experience. This term and knowledge of existentialism became popular during post war times. As a way to give meaning and importance to human individuality, and of course freedom.

            Perception Fantasy Philosophy: I myself, have a fantasy life. At times it’s hard to see through the muck and emotional turmoil that is my daily routine.  But its there, hidden away. We all have fantasy, it’s what drives us in life. Should you not want those fantasies, be it money, power, looks, love, well then why would you get out of bed in the morning? What would you go to work for? We teach our kids at a young age about fantasy, in the fairy tales we tell them before bed. We even create fantasy mythological characters, that now represent the fleeting youth. Santa clause, the Easter bunny, or The tooth fairy. As we grow up we develop our own fantasy life, buried deep in the back of our minds. And we strive in hopes of one day making that a reality. But living purely on your fantasies will never make you happy. The goals i guess we set as humans, it’s to strive to live by everyone else’s standers, or ideals. And we seem to measure our life and our fulfillment by stuff, things, and items of no real value in the whole scheme of things. Just things we attain on the journey we are making this trip 'round, or this life. In the end of days, of our life, what gives us significant of our life? Relationships, love, stability, the value of self-worth, and the value of others.

 Fantasies have to be unrealistic, the moment it becomes anything but fantasy, or you get your fantasy, you will not want it anymore. For our fantasies to keep alive in our minds, desires that long for that fantasy must keep it just out of reach. Not so far you can’t reach it, but far enough you won’t reach it. It’s not the items we can’t, it’s not the money or fancy cars, and it’s the drive of wanting it. The fantasy if you will. "We are only truly happy when day dreaming about future happiness." Fore if you get what you seek, you’re doomed not to want it. –Jessi J

Philosophy Of A Borderline by Jessi James is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at jamesborderline.blogspot.com