| Part CCCXXI - where clarity loses focus | ||||
| 04:50am 11/07/2009 | ||||
But i get so frustrated. Like smoking cigarettes and viewing hundreds of images on a glowing screen is suddenly going to make me fit in. I feel like i was born in the wrong decade. I wonder what it would be like to be glamorous, or even if my body and mind could handle it. all the skepticism of the media, and all the demands of society. would i just be another drug addict on the street or could i be that princess in a fifth avenue apartment? right now i don't think i can be anything. I want to be something. i want to be someone that people remember. that when i die they don't just say i was a crazy teenager, with severe undiagnosed psychoses. i want to be pretty. and i want to cut off all my hair. and wear too much eyeliner. and smoke too many cigarettes. and dance. i want to dance. like i don't have a care in the world. like it's 5am on a street in new york and it doesn't matter who's watching because i just want to dance. and i want to wear dresses, and drink, and go to parties, and clubs, and new gallery openings. I want to take a cab because i can afford to not take the subway. and be lavish and a socialite and know people. and make people WANT to know me. but no one wants to know me. i'm scared. because i think i'm ugly. and i'm scared. because what if no one ever really knows me? what if i just drift away as a misunderstood girl curled up in a blanket at 5am on a street corner? or when i die people wonder how much more there was to me? i feel lonely on nights like this. when clarity comes and i don't want to look inside myself but i don't know where else to look. because no one wants to be my voice on the other end of the telephone. |
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thoughtful| Part CCCXX - where I reach out to touch someone but I can't lift my arm | ||||
| 04:34am 14/01/2009 | ||||
and all i keep hearing over and over again is i can't sleep. i can't speak to you. i can't sleep. and i'm sure there are dozens of better lyrics that i could have stuck in my head as i pound away on my keyboard at 4:35 in the morning, but i can't think of any. i feel guilty listening to the same words over and over again. like a mantra, digging into my skull, reminding me, that yes, once again, i'm up at 4am instead of curled up in bed like almost everyone else. and then i wonder what i could be doing with the time i'm not sleeping. maybe there's this whole world outside that i'm not experiencing because it's 4am and my eyes are bloodshot from tears, and my hair is flat from a long day of stress. is there this magical dark world outside my bedroom window? if i ran downstairs like a little girl at the sight of the first snowflake would i find something miraculous? Would i get to watch faeries dancing around tree leaves, or the world waking up, like it's the first time all over again? i think i'd like to look, but i can't seem to get there. and so i can't sleep. and i can't speak to you. and i can't sleep. and i can't sleep. and i can't speak to you. and i can't sleep. |
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blank| Part CCCXIX - where getting lost seems familiar | ||||
| 05:16am 31/12/2008 | ||||
and i cried in the kitchen today, but not tears of pain or hurt, tears of frustration that i finally needed to let go. tears of tension that have been weighing me down so much i can't close my eyes because all i do is think and overthink. and i was called wonderful, and i gave people perspective on their lives, and then, i wondered, where was my perspective. i keep thinking "it's because you're in the middle of it," but that doesn't feel right. in the middle of what? i'm not doing anything. i'm not lost, i'm not struggling, i'm just here. here. existing. stuck. and i'm lonely. but not because i don't have friends, or i'm not seeing anyone. but because i don't have friends inside my shell. i've broken down so many walls, why do i always rebuild them? i don't know what to do, and i don't know where to go. i feel detached, and, i feel like i should be asking for help. but everyone seems so bogged down in their own murky mud pond of issues that i don't want to get in the middle. i don't want to be a burden. |
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distressed| Part CCCXVIII - where Barnes & Noble creates introspection | ||||
| 06:00pm 29/12/2008 | ||||
In the bookstore... --- I'm in a good kind of space. One where I just want to write. And not to get the words that are filling my head down on paper, but the actual action of writing. And I wish I had pen and paper, and I contemplate going to the car for some, but it's cold and so the comfortable couch and the cell phone will suffice. It's quiet here, even though people are talking, music is playing, and pages are turning. There's an awkward yet homey quiet sitting in a bookstore. I imagine I've been reading for hours, but the only proof I have is that it was light when we got here, and it's dark now. Every few minutes headlights from outside catch my eyes and someone wearing red walks by. What is it with red around Christmas time? I find that even though I'm covered in blue and white and gray and orange I feel out of place, like I'm the only one wearing black. And I imagine I could sit here forever, and stay in this space in my head where everything feels different. I got up for a cookie before, but I didn't feel there. I felt lost in this stream of consciousness like I was stuck in my own fiction novel. Like Johnny Got His Gun, but without losing all my limbs, and still able to communicate. I spoke and my voice felt outside of me, not like an out of body experience, but just like I was so buried in my thoughts my body was working on its own. Even now, when my phone slows to a crawl because it's trying to process all this text, and I wonder if I'm getting a text message in the back of my mind, i hope i don't. Because I don't want to be interrupted from this feeling. I don't want to be jolted back to reality. Because it's quiet here and things are simple. And I need a little simple because my temples and my jaw and my teeth can't take much more tension. It's so peaceful here. Can't I just stay? And now I want to read again just to ensure it will continue but I wonder if Jesse is bored in his chair, and I should buy the book and ask to leave. Go back out into real life. |
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| peer pressure meme | ||||
| 02:10am 26/01/2008 | ||||
i'm in the mood to photoshop, but inspiration is failing me. leave me 1-3 of your favorite things, and i'll draw you something. [i'm not promising you'll have it in a reasonable amount of time] |
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