|
|
Saturday, October 2nd, 2004
|
|
|
what is this bullshit, i ask myself. i don't really remember half the time.
it's been awhile since i've wrote in here. i don't even know why i keep it, i could just copy the entries and delete it. but i suppose it's an escape from all those motherfuckers, eh? i look back and read this journal, and i despise it. it's so..childish and far away, yet not all that different from my current frame of mind. i felt pretty bad last night. i still feel relatively bad. of course you can say, get over it. aren't you a little too old for this? snap out of it. but of course reality doesn't work that way. nothing ever really works that way. don't you think that if i could, that i already would have? it's so easy to give in, don't you know what i suppress? no.
i find that none of my efforts ever really matter. nothing ever really seems to matter.
i am an extreme person in every sense of the word. there is very little about me that is grey, it is black and white. that's just how i am. it's all or nothing, it's not half-assed bullshit.
i would be lying if i said that there wasn't some small, miniscule incident that triggered me this time. i would be lying if i said that you probably wouldn't laugh and shake your head if i told you what it was. it doesn't even fucking matter..but why does it tear me up so? all i need is one little thing, and i'm gone. this tiny piece of shit has rolled and rolled until it's this huge ball of shit running you over [oh, god. that has to be by far the worst metaphor that has ever come out of my head, but it's so amusing, no?]. i'd be lying if i said i didn't cut myself a couple weeks ago, and that i'm dying to do it again. i'd be lying if i denied that i have begun carrying around the package of exacto blades in my pocket again.
anyways, i don't really know what i'm rambling about anymore. i guess i just wanted to write something down. but there's so many things that i hesitate to write, to solidify, to put into reality by writing them down. i don't know, maybe i will.
i don't really care for this name anymore, but it was a good joke in its day. hell, i can't even quite remember where it originated from. maybe i will make a new name. -shrugs-
edit: well, i deleted most of the shit in here..it's more tolerable, i suppose.
|
|
Monday, January 13th, 2003
|
| Time: | 7:39 pm. |
| Mood: |  uncomfortable. | | Music: | [[The Downward Spiral-Nine Inch Nails]]. |
|
and then the time finally comes, and you don't know what to say. that akward silence splitting into your brain like an ax. the words won't come, and neither will the breaths to make them possible anyways. you just stare blankly at the floor, trying not to cry or let your face betray your emotions. clench your hands into fists, and begin counting, counting always calms you. most of the time.
is this what we've become?
i'm afraid to answer that.
|
|
|
|
"you're highly emotional as well, but you hide it better than i. you know lots of stuff you want to do and accomplish but for some reason you find yourself doing nothing about it, and i believe if you devoted yourself to it.. as you do to me, and your other good friends.. you would accomplish more than you could imagine."
|
|
Sunday, January 12th, 2003
|
|
|
how long will we lead these bleak lives, desolate of even the smallest tinge of hope? how long will we punish ourselves for actions that are beyond our reach? how long will we wallow in darkness and become the blinded sheep we have always detested? how long will we let the irrational fears of our subconcious rule our concious lives? will we live in isolation for it? will we slice ourselves bloody for it? will we starve ourselves to death for it? will we push everything away that we love for it? will we suffer for it? yes. will we destroy ourselves?
hopefully, no.
we shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.
|
|
Wednesday, December 25th, 2002
|
| Subject: | empathy. |
| Time: | 3:35 pm. |
| Mood: |  gloomy. | | Music: | [[The Day The World Went Away-Nine Inch Nails]]. |
|
Main Entry: em·pa·thy
Pronunciation: 'em-p&-thE
Function: noun
Etymology: Greek empatheia, literally, passion, from empathEs emotional, from em- + pathos feelings, emotion —more at PATHOS
Date: 1904
1 : the imaginative projection of a subjective state into an object so that the object appears to be infused with it
2 : the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner; also : the capacity for this
|
|
Thursday, December 12th, 2002
|
| Time: | 12:40 am. |
| Mood: |  depressed. |
|
scrubbing skin, trying to wash away the sins that litter your life, only to find they are etched permanently in unforgiving flesh that bears the scars of a thousand lifetimes.
how deep can i make them?
as deep as the blade will go.
|
|
Tuesday, December 10th, 2002
|
|
|
i'm supposed to go back to college in the fall, the community college around here. and then maybe 2 years later down the road go back to U of L. no offense, but i don't want to go back to that hellhole. and i don't want to take more shitty ass classes that are general education-type things. look, i used to have a 4.0, but i left college with a 1.6. does that say anything to you? i couldn't do it. i'm not sure if i can anymore. my mind was..what, decaying? yes. and i just wasn't interested in school. i skipped classes, i failed tests, and one of the classes that i was genuinely interested in, my honours religion class, i didn't turn in my term paper and got an incomplete. my parents don't know my grades, and my parents don't know that i also lost my scholarship because of my grades. they wouldn't understand. things were getting bad. i started cutting myself more and more..because it was my only escape. an escape from me. maybe it's hard to understand if you've never been there, but when your mind is your own worst enemy, it's a living hell. i dunno, that's an entry within itself, if i could even explain.
i was never really emotional. i dunno, i pushed it all back, i kept it in. i usually played by myself, since my sister was 12 years older than me. i was/am pretty much a solitary person..but what line do you have to cross when you realise that you might need someone else? or even more than one person? can one live in isolation? not only the conventional definition of isolation, but also emotionally isolated? can one suppress their emotions? i'm not sure, but i've tried. i was pretty successful for 17 or so years. i'm a pretty emotional person, no matter how much i refuse to acknowledge that at times. i'll admit i used to be a person who didn't make many decisions of my own, but that's changing. i'm not living my life for anyone else anymore, just me. what the fuck am i talking about? i dunno.
i remember in the second semester of college that i took i was taking the final in my bio 243 lab. there were tables in that room and different stations, and each were timed. i guess i wasn't paying attention, and the teacher was walking by, and she saw my arm. mind you, we were in the middle of our final, so everyone was dead quiet and stuff. and she goes, 'oh my, what happened to your poor arm?' i brought it closer to me and mumbled nothing, but she said something else that i forget, and thank goodness the little timer went off and it was time to change seats again to go to the next station. no one else has ever seen my cuts/scars, except my mom [accidentally, 3 times], and i've showed my psychologist. i remember my arm that day. the cuts were on my forearm. i suppose i had done them the day before and earlier [don't remember, but i did cut myself pretty much every day back then]. they went about 2 1/2 inches down my arm, maybe an inch and a half long. i had made them with an exacto knife blade. there were many; maybe 50 or so. i guess it was a bit odd looking.
i guess i'm done with this rambling entry. -shrug-
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
mr_botev's journal
nauseated.