Sleeping with Ghosts

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swelling scar

2002-05-04 - 11:16 a.m.

welcome, once again, to my daily venture into psychosis.

currently: you figure it out

i hurt myself today to see if i still feel i focus on the pain the only thing that's real the needle tears a hole the old familiar sting try to kill it all away but i remember everything what have i become? my sweetest friend everyone i know goes away in the end you could have it all my empire of dirt i will let you down i will make you hurt i wear my crown of shit on my liar's chair full of broken thoughts i cannot repair beneath the stain of time the feeling disappears you are someone else i am still right here what have i become? my sweetest friend everyone i know goes away in the end you could have it all my empire of dirt i will let you down i will make you hurt if i could start again a million miles away i would keep myself i would find a way

nine inch nails

Because sleep has become my best friend lately, I decided to spend time with her last night rather than go out. I've become disillusioned. And she, aside from the dreams that accompany her, lets me get away from it all for a while.

The dreams leave a rancid taste in my mouth. Before I woke this morning, I was in my grave but looking down on it. A man was there, kneeling on the grass before my headstone. I could not see his face, but I could faintly hear him sighing or weeping.
After I woke up, I almost laughed at this dream. For one, I don't plan being a corpse in the ground. And two, the chances of any man weeping at my grave or anywhere in the vicinity of my grave are slim and none.

I also had a dream about dinosaurs. It took place in an enormous building with a mall-like lobby. I was packed into a restroom with dozens of other people, and we were cramming ourselves into the stalls to get away from the raptors (Jurassic Park be damned). Since my brain was obviously fixated on the Jurassic, I jumped up on top of some plumbing and popped open the ceiling tiles to get the hell out of there. I don't recall much after that, except that a T-rex was talking. Uh... yeah, okay.
I've had several dinosaur dreams. I guess it's my subconscious' way of telling me not to fuck with things bigger than I am. I dunno.

That's all for now.

12:53pm

I got bored:

I think you would

I tell you how I feel, but you don't care
I say tell me the truth, but you don't dare
You say love is a hell you cannot bear
And I say gimme mine back and then go there, for all I care.

Fiona Apple, "Sleep to Dream"

4:00pm

currently: WHAT?

*listening to Haujobb, Polarity*

I was playing games then drawing... then I got restless and started talking to myself. Never a good sign.

--outcry--

Just tell me what the fuck is going on.

For future reference: guys, do not upset a female when her period is creeping up on her. The results are very very very bad.

Not that I'm having my period. I think my body is skipping out on normal activities this month. Stress'll do that to ya.

I need a hug, yet I don't want to leave the house. My cats are looking at me strangely. The speakers of my stereo are talking to me. No, wait, that's music. I have the space heater on, but it's not cold. I'm going insane. I want to crawl under my mattress. I must look for my checkbook so I can pay my phone bill. I'd have a shot of bourbon, but I'm drinking milk. Blehh. I wanna douse myself in rubbing alcohol and have a cigarette. I cannot think. I cannot think. I cannot think. I should paint the walls in blood. I despise not knowing what's going on, and you prolong the anxiety. There's no one home. My hair is still damp from the shower I had a while ago, yet I want to crawl into the bathtub with my clothes on and turn on the hot water.

When I was younger, some allergy that afflicted me off an on for a few years once swelled me up like a balloon. My throat was swelling shut when my dad took me to the ER. I should have hidden in the closet and suffocated to death. But, no, I got taken to the ER, where I was pricked and bled and given a teddy bear. Congratulations, you get to live. Have a bear. I still have the bear... somewhere. Maybe I should put it on my bed as a reminder. I have a similar bear from going to the ER when I was just a wee thing. I slipped from my dad's hands while he was bathing me and cracked my head open. At least, that's what they tell me. They also say that I was very quiet the whole time. I never cried or fussed. Skip a few years into the future from there, and I tumbled down some stairs at my babysitter's house. Forward, feet over head, head over feet, wall, wall, rail, rail, wall, feet over head, bottom. For a moment, I simply stopped. Then I jumped to my feet and ran to the nearest couch and rested flat on my back. The babysitter nearly had a heart attack. I didn't talk for the rest of the day. I've had a number of similar incidences since then, but you get the idea. Physical pain cannot compare to mental pain. I'd even take the muscle spasms and shoulder dislocations over the war that's going on in my head.

Alright, I've worked out a little stretch of ...whatever this is....


What Trigun ship are you??

I'm going to go throw up now.

6:00pm

Some of you probably think I live on the internet. In all actuality, I'm running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. Every once in a while, I come back here, looking for my head. My attention span is shot. I'm constantly looking for something to help me feel better. Or make me forget. So, I'm writing again.

The semester is over. I've got more free time. Great. That's just what I need. I can't believe I wrote that. I'm usually longing for more time to myself. But that's the last thing I need right now.

I'm in love someone I can never hold onto it. I'm in love with a man that went from saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you," to "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I want to tell myself that he was lying. I can remember every word exchanged between us. And each one mocks me and my eagerness to believe them.

Isn't it just my luck that my first love is for someone that's already got a first love?

Please tell me why I belong to you, when I cry... when I cry for your hands on my skin. Please tell me why I belong to you, when I cry... when I cry for your hands on my skin.
De/Vision

Murr. When he finally tells me what I want to hear, then my love can transform into something else. It's always going to be there; it'll just be changed.

Oh, God. Did you eat all this acid?

No, but I am going to have a shot of bourbon now. I'm afraid my convictions will have to be ignored for a while. . . . . ...yuck. And now for some nicotine.

Hm. Ya know, I wonder if I was heading for a little spell of depression before the shit hit the fan. I mean, I'm there so often, I might as well take up residence. Up and down and up and down and up and down. Maybe it just got amplified. Oh, well, not like I'll ever know for sure.

I believe in your heart, can you believe in me?
Would you try me out one day, when our souls are free?
I can taste your sweetness.
I am out of control.
Leave my mind
If you don't stay
You decompose my soul.

De/Vision

end of 6pm rant.


where you go, I go. - 2013-03-17
leave me the way I was - 2012-11-08
Never Flicker - 2012-11-03
Sis boom bah - 2012-11-02
Like a rusty needle in your eye - 2012-08-07

lost - data