The Mind Of a.jones:]

Think of the children, Do it for the children: Day 2314

Think of the children, Do it for the children.

Day 2314: Its not even your fault, yet you always find yourself showered with guilt and sympathy. Seems like your the cause for all of this distortion and despair. Though she doesn’t complain, you know theres a struggle that plays a hefty burden. If shes not looking down, neither should you. So off you go, first and fifteen. There are deficits to overcome, though that doesn’t prove you to be inferior. So there you stand, six years old, taking positive adult-sized steps forward. Because you realize that she doesn’t need to do it all alone. Your only six, but there goes your brother watching two years behind. A six year old role model, a six year old difference. Doing it for your mother, doing it for the children.

-a.jones:]

Think of the children, Do it for the children: Day 1.

Think of the children, Do it for the children.

Day 1. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing that you could possibly do about it. You were an accident, and HE wasn’t willing to deal with the consequences. And who could blame him? I mean, your just a baby. Soon enough, you’ll be grown up, out making the same mistakes that HE did. No different. Nothing but a cycle of mistakes and regrets. So what’s a boy with one of his own? What isHE supposed to do? Sacrifice his life mediocre life, in return for two fucked up ones? HE didn’t think so, and that’s all that mattered. Off he went, running into the darkness. His mistakes, your life. HE wasn’t thinking of children, HE didn’t do it for the children.

-a.jones:]

I think that the meaning of life, is simply finding a meaning.

-a.jones:]

Here’s the secret.

People don’t like you, you dont have an amazing personality, nor are you beautiful.

your just a slut; and sadly, boys are drawn to sluts.

Men fall for beautiful women.

So girls, dont worry, dont be jealous, and dont cry when you see the slut with the cute boy.

You’re just a lady, waiting for your man.

not a pussy testing dicks.

A girl’s true swagger is her dignity, not her sexual experience.

So sit back, relax, and have a laugh.

you’re a beautiful woman, yahsee?

-a.jones:]

7 Notes

The fact that you actually read my blog

My blog.

Not this anthonybobjones bullshit.

the ayyejones.tumblr serious blog i have, is my true blog.

a sincere collection of writings that define Me.

not this one sentence, cleaver phrase shit.

that isnt me.

this is me.

The fact that you read my words and taste my thoughts,

The fact that you actually understand me better though my words,

The fact that you appreciate the type of writer I am,

and The fact that you take the time to wiggle and adventure through my mind.

You underestimate me, and I love it.

You dont know me, and I love it.

Take the time, to understand, and you’ll love it.

I love you Anonymous Readers,

-Anthony Jones

1 Notes

[image]

Theres been something thats been lingering about my mind, for what feels like an eternity of hollowness. I sometimes find myself sitting, staring mindlessly into space, just wondering. Wondering you see. Wonders that turn into theory. Theory which causes a civil uproar, bringing relentless debates. Debates. Debates that still leave more things unanswered than asked. As one idea concludes, another battles back. And as my hand tries to meet the paper (or the keyboard for that matter), no concrete reasoning can ever form words.

You see, its just one word. One word, that can mean the world. You see, the questions lie within 5 letters. One word. [Image]

My Image. Something so Precious and Valuable. Something that can easily be inflated, yet destroyed even quicker. Something with boundless routes, though containing limited results. [Image]. It can easily be the factor influencing a life of social acceptance, outcasted disobedience, or disturbed apprehension. [Image]. Worth more than golden words, or pure liveliness.

Images follow you long before its significance even hits you, and lucky for me, my understanding of social imagery came before my slate was poisoned. My slate was clean, and I did everything to maintain its innocence. While other people rotted away their purity with: drugs, alcohol, playing girls, slutting around, and simply growing up though mistakes, Ive made my way through clean.

Im not saying that these types of things kill your image, nor do I intend to strike anything but popular references. Though, my [Image] has always been cherished as too precious to endanger. I’ve always emphasized my [Image] as being nothing short of clean and noble.

Furthermore, with success and acceptance flourishing, I have came to bring about another aspect to my [Image]. As I have reached into the dark night and came down with star dust and moon dreams, as sense of confidence settled. Soon enough, the world, in my mind, was my playground. I’ve become more cocky, cruel, conniving, inconsiderate, selfish, inflated, and fearless as ever. Though while maintaining a sense of sensitivity, charismatic knowledge, cumulative intelligence, and risky courage, ive been able to maintain a sense of relief within and towards myself.

Thats where the problem resides. Ive found a sense of relief within the lines. I’ve come to believe that the quantitative results outweigh the qualitative perceptions. I come the believe that my previous image of cleanliness maintains through my cocky dominant thoughts. I walk with my nose in the air, because of how I’ve been seen, and because of how I see myself. I’m not perfect. But being told that I am doesn’t help one bit. I’m nothing short of what I know I should be, so should I really be seen as different for doing what comes natural?

You see, I’m finding myself caught in the moment. The moment. I’m acknowledging myself through a greater [image], rather than letting the results speak for themselves. I care too much to be seen as greater, rather than focusing on being greater. I can sit here all day and say that I don’t care about what other people think about me, but I’d be lying. Honestly, I do care about how other people think about me. I always find myself fighting to be seen for what I deserve, rather than focusing on self-righteousness.

I’m tired of caring about my [image]. I want to be judged by the content of my character rather than the color of my [image]. As of today, I have been escalating the public perception towards me to be even more exaggerated than ever. I still bring home results of purity, wisdom, intelligence, and sincerity, though Its just makes it harder to believe and see through an [image] of dopeness.

I’m sorry if I’ve brought about a cancerous cloud around my [image]. I really am something greater, I promise. I just need love, I need to be found. I find myself with countless acquaintances, though in reality, I’m left with very little true friends. If you could please forgive me for the [image] I’ve cared so much to maintain and escalate. Trust me with sincerity. I’m just tired of fighting inner peace with exterior violence.

Though within itself, It’ll always be apart of an [image]. Which [image] is truly sincere, and which one will prevail? It’s not going to be easy, I kind of like this life. Though, it just might not be right. And I’m sorry…

There is never truely a birth of an [image], I just hope that its honor can be resurrected.

It’s not what your given, but what you take.

Im sorry for trying to take it all.

-Anthony Jones :]

7 Notes

God send me an angel, a friend, just a friend please…

God send me an angel, a friend, just a friend please… Thats all ive been looking for. I need a friend who can make me feel just a little more special than the next. A friend who fills the hole in my heart as much as i occupy theirs. Just a friend Lord, please, all i ask for is a friend. A true friend. A friend who accepts me for the annoying obnoxious piece of shit i am. A friend whos there whenever I ring. A friend who doesnt get tired of me. You see God, I have many acquaintances, but few friends, few true friends who are really there for me. I enjoy the respect I have amongst any given group of friends, though what I truly desire, is a friend. One friend is what I honestly ask for. Its more than a want, or a desired God, its what I need. My heart aches as It settles in my gut, as I comprehend how lonely my heart really is. But no, thats not the worst part, you see, whats more painful is the trickery. Yes the trickery. The world plays games with me. Just as it feels as if I have found someone to be my bandaid, it proves to be a scheming wittily mirage. God my heart does not like to be amused with. My heart is lonely, and its tired of turning to alternatives routes to hide it. God, please send me an angel, a friend, yes just a friend please. I need a friend, though all I am left to do, is ask. I ask that someone be brave enough to take on the stuggle that is my friendship. I promise Ill contribute in return. I promise, ill show you, if you just let me.

God send me an angel, a friend, just a friend please…

"
‘usually, girls give me the respect i deserve

im not a player, or a heartbreaker, or anything bad

id just expect to be treaded better than those types of people’
"

- Anthony Jones

1 Notes

We need to talk.

We need to talk.

So im sorry if ive been harassing or annoying you this past week about everything… Its just that, I need to talk to you. And you see the thing is, I need to talk to you. And the thing that truly hollws me is that, I need to talk to you.

I am a sincere man, I promise I will not play. I am a man of pure committment, and I promise I will not stray. I can be your man, if you just give me one more day. But if you wanna be my girl, let me know its all okay.

Theres no other way to say, I need to talk to you. But dont be afraid and dont worry, its not like that. You see the thing is, a week feels like a year without you. Your so devoted and motivated and its amazing. Its great to have a girl who knows where shes going in life, a girl who knows her priorities. Its just hard to swollow my wants with your needs. While you study, I want you. Your such an amazing girl, and It makes me want you even more. Your gracefully chained, and who am I to disrupt that?

Its just that, I need to talk to you… You see, I am a strong man, from the stone in my knowledge to the harmony in my morals. But I am not perfect. My weakness is eminent and evident. My heart breaks me to my knees without a sense of direction in solitude. You see, I need to talk to you. With you, I am at peace. With you, I have no need. With you, I am at home, when my hearts been beat. No more walking, no more searching.

I need to talk to you, I need reassurance. I need to tell my heart that its right to fight. I need to feel your heart hug mine. I need to let my heart react to yours. You see, in all honesty, you have already changed my life. I do not need to run anymore. Lets be honest, I flirt because im lonely. The new people I meet act as a bandaid to cover an empty wound within my chest. I dont need it anymore. You gave me butterflies. But now without your voice, theyve been a dancing chaos. I dont want to meet anyone else, because they want you. I dont want to text anyone else, because only yours make me smile. I dont want to talk to anyone else, because only you make my heart feel special.

Please help settle the butterflies. I Will work for love, just give me your hand, and we will dance. We need to talk.

-a.jones:]

1 Notes

Writen in Blood

It hurts. Not because of what you said, but because of the circumstances. Of course youd expect me to sit here and defend myself. You expect me to sit here and trample every slash, every critique, every false comment you made. Of course youd expect me to analyze the cruelty and disrespect you put me through. Of course you expect me to attack your attempt of power and pleasure. But im not. Im not going to bypass what you said with an offensive attack. I dont need to attack back. I know who I am, and whether you know me too or not, is not the problem, the fashion in which you presented your opinions and comments is. To be honest, my heart is aching. And it wasnt your words. I can accept the criticism. Its just like, how could you have the audacity to tell me this in my yearbook, rather than in person. I gave you my yearbook to be the first to sign it as a symbol of friendship. Whether im your friend or not, your still mine, and its just respect. Whether you like me as a person or not, theres just a common rule of respect. You went from making me cry from inspiration, awe, and bewilderment in last years book, to crushing my heart, intentions, and self achievement in this years. My, I cant tell you if I mean anything to you or not. I cant tell you if you like me as a person. I cant tell you if im your friend. I cant tell you whats best for you or not. But whether ive made a difference in your life or not, I can honestly say that youve made one in mine. I can judge your actions, but not you as a person. You have a good head above your shoulders.

So now, theres only one yearbook signing in my book, and its written in blood. When im older and wanna look back, Im going to have to relive the pain that I feel now. And im just gonna have to remember, that just a month prior, I admitted to liking you after 3 years of crushing, and whether you meant it or not, you told me you liked me back. So now I sit, and read the beautiful texts I have saved in my phone. The ones where you told me that you like me, but hate the idea of us. When you told me how im ‘too perfect’ and that its just super intimidating to like a guy who has the answer to everything, That it would be easier to like me if I wasnt so perfect. So to read a page and a half of pure bashing and attacks hurts. Obviously im not THAT perfect then. Nobodys perfect. I mean, I have a heart, and it can be crushed just as easily as anyones else. I just didnt expect someone who means so much to me to step on it for being myself.

Im not insecure. Im honestly just being myself. Accept it if you must, but only God can judge me. So please dont hurt me again :(

Sincerely,

Anthony Jones

About Me