| Noose... |
Dear Diary,
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I want to be beautiful again. I want her to see me like she did back then. I want her to know how much I love her. I want her to believe when when I whisper it into her ear. Maybe she won't ever believe me again. I wonder if she ever really did. Besides, how could someone like me, someone so negative and cynical and angry and immature, so stupid and fucked up and crazy, so hopeless... how could someone like me find it in myself to love her?
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Soule called me the other day to see if I had "offed" myself. I guess people do worry about me, and I really don't like it when people worry about me. I wonder if I really do sound like a suicidal type of person. Not to say it hasn't crossed my mind once in awhile, but I really don't want to be that way. I especially don't think Soule needs to worry about me like she does. She doesn't have a reason to care. She shouldn't think about me anymore. It will only make her feel bad.
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I had a bit to drink tonight. My head hurts. I have had a headache for about three weeks now, but drinking made it hurt worse. God, I fucking want this to go away. I don't mind the pain, it's just that I can't stand that it seems to be amplified by thinking about it, and I can't stop thinking about this damn headache.
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Things need to change. Things need to change real soon. I can't spend the rest of my fucking life so goddamn stoic and brooding. But I don't want to be one of those people that tries so hard to pretend they are happy for people so they can ignore the fact that they really aren't. I hate people that do that. If you are unhappy, fucking show it. I don't mean get all emo and spread yourself thick all over everybody, I just don't like to see people pretending to be something they really aren't. I know some would call me a hypocrite for saying this, but I could care less at this point.
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I need a cigarette. I don't smoke, which is the funny part. I just really could use a smoke right about now.
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It is funny. Right now, from a third person point of view, everything is right where it belongs. But I don't feel that way. I am anxious and uncomfortable. I don't feel anything anymore. I caught myself not eating because I didn't even taste the food anymore. I don't feel like writing or resting or doing anything. I haven't stopped drinking though; I have always found comfort in a good drink. Not usually alcohol, but that is probably just because I don't have easy access to it. I am going to be a fucking alcoholic, just like the rest of my family. God, I don't want to be like them. I have been getting sleep, but always at the most inconvenient times. When I sleep, I have horrible dreams that I can only vaguely remember, and when I am awake, all I want is to be back asleep. I hate myself sometimes.
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I was driving home tonight and I swear I started seeing everything in black and white. It was like an old movie, except that I was in it. I wasn't dreaming, I wasn't drunk, I wasn't tired. I was just seeing differently than normal. I didn't snap out of it until I got home. I found a beer sitting on the side of the road. It wasn't opened yet. I drank it. It was actually the best beer I have ever had. Thus, here is my advice. Break the law, forget the risks, take a chance. You are always going to be missing out on the oppurtunity of a lifetime.
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I hate when people look down on me. I really don't like it when I know that I am being judged and the person judging me is probably no better than I am. Everybody fucks up. Not everybody is fucked up or fucks up as badly as I have, but everyone has something in their head that they don't want to let out. Everyone has flaws, everyone has addictions, everyone has something. I have flaws. I know it. I am addictive by nature, and I always have something. There is always something for me to do to forget something that I might want to forget about, even if it is just for a little while. I always have something.
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And despite that little fact, I almost always feel like I don't have anything. I always have something to complain about. No matter who I talk to or what we talk about, I always have something negative to say. I always have something in my head that catches people off guard when it comes out. I fucking hate myself and I really think that a lot of the time I am not the only one who does.
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I keep feeling sick. I just get hit at random intervals with this nausea and a feeling that I don't want anyone or anything around me. I just want to be alone a lot of the time. I don't want anything. I just want to be caught up in my own mind, my own world, my own reality. I know that isn't healthy, but most of the things I do and think about really aren't healthy, and I seem to be doing alright.
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I like the way I dress. All one color, not too extravagant, and comfortable. I like the idea that no matter what I wear, I am still the same person. No matter what monkey I am dressed as, I still have the same thoughts and the same vices. I like that I am defined only by the way I think and act, not by the way I look.
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How do I look? Sometimes I look in the mirror and think to myself that I really don't look half bad, and sometimes I get suurprised that I look unexpectedly well dressed or well formed. Sometimes I can find beauty in myself, but just sometimes. Rarely. Most of the time I realize how dirty or fat or trashy or stupid I look. I feel the same either way, but I like to think that I feel better when I look better. Maybe it isn't true and I always feel like shit, but maybe I could always use a good grooming to cheer myself up.
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I like the way my hands look. My skin looks thick and tough. And the pattern on my skin is very well defined. I like it a lot, especially when I am typing.
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I think I am developing a raw and natural hate towards people. I keep seeing smiles carved in people's faces when I look at them, or I see a flash of them on the ground with their knees spread and a huge gash up their middle. I see so much violence behind my eyes, but I know I wouldn't ever be the source of it.
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I like sitting in chairs. I always feel so important, like a prince. Maybe it is just the way I sit or the fact that I am the only one that can fit in a chair or the feeling of the chair surrounding me like a throne, but I really like feeling important to myself.
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Everything is blurry now. I told Jed I don't feel like anything is real anymore. It is like I have become part of my own euphoria. I don't notice when I get hurt. Ana pointed out all the cuts and scars on my arms, and quite honestly, I don't even remember getting most of them. I know people usually notice when something hurts enough to make them bleed, but I just dont' care I guess. A little cut or scratch is not nearly important enough to notice. But maybe that is my problem. Maybe everything is important enough to be noticed and maybe that is why I feel like nothing really exists. Maybe the fact that I don't notice anything is causing me to feel like nothing exists, simply because I don't care to notice that things actually might be real.
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And maybe I think too much. And maybe I am too fucked up. And maybe no one really cares. And maybe I don't even care.
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And maybe I do...
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I want somebody to tell me that they love me, and that they need me, and that I am their world and their everything. And I want that somebody to mean it. I want to know, I want to be able to feel, that that person really feels that way. I want to be important to someone. I want to be the most important. I want to be so much, and I really think I am next to nothing in most people's minds.
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I also want this fucking headache to go away.
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So here I am, sitting in my chair, a chair that really isn't mine, in a room that really isn't mine, in the dark. The darkness I will claim as mine. I don't think it will mind.
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Have you ever been near a street light when it just randomly turned off? I have. Coincedence? I don't know, since I started counting about a month ago, I have been within twenty feet of thirty-seven different lights as they turned off. I find some simple pleasure in thinking it is my fault that they turn off. I like it when they turn off just after I look at them. That is when I think it is most unusual.
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I am getting pretty good at playing my guitar. I like it. I think I am going to start my own band, but I want to be the only one in it. I don't want to have to deal with telling anyone else how something sounds in my head if I can just make it myself.
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Go ahead. Laugh at me. I am not doing it to copy Trent. I just want to do it because of that fact within itself: I just want to do it.
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I think I have written enough for now.
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Dear Diary,
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Thanks for listening.
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I love you...