I want a fuckin' quick fix for how I've been feeling lately. I feel completely irrational and its been like this for a while. I had a dream about my problem. That almost never happens. Never. It's why I guess I've been so restless at night. I think I'm going to be sick. Fuck.
And what the hell is it with me saying fuck? I'm getting a little sick of it as well. I've been using too much slang and what not because of the people I hang out with. Sometimes it feels good to say fuck, but I feel like a tool just for saying it. Tool, that's another word I only picked up around you people. Fuck it.
I think I'm being childish, just with everything lately. Fuck. That's all I can say. This is a tired rant filled with nonsense and bullshit, and no this isn't me being insecure. I fucking hate how I seem so goddamn insecure to all you people. Yeah, I can be insecure but for everyone who think that defines me go fuck yourself.
*sigh* Now that I thouroughly bitched and moaned I feel a tiny bit better. I know what's bothering me, but this isn't the place to deal with it. My problem is that I'm dealing with it poorly, I know I am, its just that I'm in a bad spot. Nothing I can really do but try to weather the storm. If I try to run away it'll all be for nothing. I guess the way I'm feeling might be a sign more for the good, at least if things pan out.
Sorry I'm being ambiguous, if you're reading this and just want to know more just contact me. I'll try to divuldge as much as I'm comfortable with.
Goodnight everyone
Friday, August 31, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Frustrated
For the past two days I have to say I haven't been in that great of a mood. The best way to describe it is I want to be angry, but I can't. I kinda just want to destroy something beautiful.
While I don't want to admit it, I know why I feel this way. I've been so psyched about UConn, about getting the fuck out of here, and having so much to look forward to, I haven't paid attention to all the bad that'll come with it. I swear I must be fucking bipolar, because now that the high I was riding is over, I'm starting to hit a low. When I hit a low these days, though, its not that I get dissapointed with life, but I get dissapointed with myself for getting back to here. For getting my hopes up. What the fuck am I rambling about? I'm just rambling I suppose.
Fuck, I should just be happy with what I have, but it feels good to pine, to desire, and to get your hopes up. Sometimes it feels like this zen ideal I have is more like apathy. I think I just need to bitch. What the hell am I saying?
While I don't want to admit it, I know why I feel this way. I've been so psyched about UConn, about getting the fuck out of here, and having so much to look forward to, I haven't paid attention to all the bad that'll come with it. I swear I must be fucking bipolar, because now that the high I was riding is over, I'm starting to hit a low. When I hit a low these days, though, its not that I get dissapointed with life, but I get dissapointed with myself for getting back to here. For getting my hopes up. What the fuck am I rambling about? I'm just rambling I suppose.
Fuck, I should just be happy with what I have, but it feels good to pine, to desire, and to get your hopes up. Sometimes it feels like this zen ideal I have is more like apathy. I think I just need to bitch. What the hell am I saying?
Something for Something's Sake
I woke up on the couch again this morning. I had weird dreams all throughout the night. I can only remember bits and pieces now, but I remember shoot outs. There were violent gang wars and I was in the middle of it, a man with a vendetta and no hesitation to pull the trigger. The next thing I recall was having killed Victor for some reason, and by the way I felt and the way I acted around Jessica it hadn't been an accident.
It was an odd feeling, waking up, because I was entirely convinced I had killed someone. It made me feel different about myself. I had done something which could not be undone, and the deed had left its mark on me. I really felt like I had killed someone when I woke up, and nothing can really compare to that feeling of self-loathing and complete acceptance of what I had done.
But as I do with each morning, reality slowly reared its ugly head and I was no longer this cold-hearted killer, nor was Victor dead. Victor was probably just getting back from work and heading to bed himself (since he works the night shift) and here I was, staring out the window, waiting for the Sun to banish the last vestiges of night.
I decided today that I'm going to get off my ass and try to do as much as I can. I played pokemon a tiny bit, but quickly just took care of the daily events and turned it off. Then I covered good ground with Goblet of Fire. Right now, though, I think I'm about to pop into the shower, dress in some clothes I like, and head out for a good walk. I think I might bring my camera with me, but I've already walked this route so much that I doubt I'll see something new. Might be a good time to wander someplace new.
It was an odd feeling, waking up, because I was entirely convinced I had killed someone. It made me feel different about myself. I had done something which could not be undone, and the deed had left its mark on me. I really felt like I had killed someone when I woke up, and nothing can really compare to that feeling of self-loathing and complete acceptance of what I had done.
But as I do with each morning, reality slowly reared its ugly head and I was no longer this cold-hearted killer, nor was Victor dead. Victor was probably just getting back from work and heading to bed himself (since he works the night shift) and here I was, staring out the window, waiting for the Sun to banish the last vestiges of night.
I decided today that I'm going to get off my ass and try to do as much as I can. I played pokemon a tiny bit, but quickly just took care of the daily events and turned it off. Then I covered good ground with Goblet of Fire. Right now, though, I think I'm about to pop into the shower, dress in some clothes I like, and head out for a good walk. I think I might bring my camera with me, but I've already walked this route so much that I doubt I'll see something new. Might be a good time to wander someplace new.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
monologue intérieur
Wanting something to write but not being able to think of something to write, maybe I should end this sentance. Self conscious about my writing, why do I write (why should I write) when I have nothing to say to no one in particular. What will anthropologists see while looking through the internet centuries from now? It's something I will never know, because when I die I cease to be what is me and become something else, and the future will go on without me. That is what I am afraid of most: people moving on. I'll miss out on so much when I die. Why do I dwell on death so often? Does it still make life more valuable to me or am I only driven by a morbid curiosity, wondering if life isn't playing some prank on me that will end in a surprise! death is not the end, that was a joke and now you get to really wake up. I'd like that to happen, it means that life cared enough to prank me, but my mind will cease to be but my carbon will be eternal until even death dies. Will the universe die or is it just living a cyclical life and nothing is progressive but instead regressive after one cycle is complete? Does a question mark go there. Does a period go there? I want her to be reading this because I want her, like life, to care. Maybe that's all I need. Someone to care. Does my dad care? I don't know, I thought I didn't care about him but I'm starting to choke up. Who is reading this? I'd like to know because I care. I'm sorry for all the times I've seemed callous my friends, I care more than I let on I just don't know how to show it in any other way than making you smile. Writing this down made me smile. It's made my day better. I hope your day is now better.
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