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16 October 2005 @ 09:36 am
I got pretty drunk last night. Brendan and a few of his buddies and I went out on a pontoon. We didn't go far, but it was fun. We were drinking tequila and Crown royal. What a mix, right?

Anyways, we got to talking about that dreaded conversation :(

The one about me and my step dad. Since he was drunk, he talked without inhibition. He told me I let it happen, which is true. He told me I'm sick, which is true. I remember sobbing when he told me I was sick. Sobbing because it's so fucking true. He didn't say a lie last night, he told me exactly what I am.

It was horrible. The worst part about it is that I couldn't deny anything he said. I had no grounds for defense, unless I had lied. I tried to explain why I didn't do anything, why I let him do it. But I think that just disgusted him even more.

I can't stand to be in my body today. I have memories that won't go away, so I want to make them leave. But the only way to do that is to die. Can't die. I hope I don't think about this for the rest of my life like I do now. Why do I have to recall it every day? The more I think about it, the more I hate myself.
15 October 2005 @ 10:10 am
I feel so worthless today.

Why did I think I was feeling better yesterday? I hate being happy. I believe I truly hate it. When I get happy, it feels so good. Too good. Because then when I come back down again it feels ten times worse because I can almost still remember what happy felt like.

It will go away soon, though. The memory of happiness, I mean. I know it will because it always does. Just like when I'm happy, I can't remember what I felt like a few days ago when I was so down I could barely get out of bed.

But apparently nothing is wrong with me. It's all in my head. Fuck, I wish I could believe it. If it were true, then my problems would be way easier to solve. Please be right. Make it fake.
12 October 2005 @ 11:22 am
I feel so unsatisfied today.

I went out on a pontoon yesterday. Though it was 80 plus degrees, I wore pants and was very hot. But I had fun I suppose. I got really drunk and was fishing off the side of the boat.

Fishing really pissed me off. I saw tons of fish jumping around in the water, eating the bugs on the surface. Not one stupid fish took my bait. I'm just a lousy fisher, I suppose. I'm good at deep sea fishing, though.

I woke up this morning feeling strange. I felt very seperated from everyone. No one ever notices me. That may sound like a self pity statement, but it's true. I walked down stairs this morning and Glenda was watching tv. I walked by, she said nothing. The dog was walking behind me and she said hi to the fucking dog, but not to me.

Last night there were a bunch of people at the house. Not one of them said a word to me. I walked in and out of the room. It was drunken wandering. Eventually I got up and went to bed. The next morning Brendan was like, "Did you hit that blunt last night?" I was like, "What blunt?" He was like, "You were in the room..."

But I wasn't.

Am I that quiet and elusive? Or are people simply blind? I don't know.

But I am very unsatisfied today. I think I'm going to stop trying everything. I'm going to stop trying to be healthy, stop trying to be mentally stable, stop trying to be *well*. I'm not going to hide my feelings anymore.

First feeling? My body sucks. Every time I take my clothes off, I feel like a cow.

Also, I'm sick. I'm sitting here sweating, sneezing, freezing, and coughing. I wonder what it is. I hope it kills me.
08 October 2005 @ 10:26 am
Last night was another drinking night. The previous evening was tequila, last night was whiskey.

I told myself I didn't want to drink. I told myself this because I got very drunk the other night because I was mad, and I woke up with a headache. So I tell myself, "Maybe one shot. You can stop yourself!"

I felt very confident. But the whiskey was calling. I could hear it in my head. Do you know what whiskey sounds like? Probably not. I'll tell you. Whiskey has a voice much like that of a possessed person. You know how they sound in the movies, right? The high pitch screams, low moans, evil cackles, et cetera. Well, that's how whiskey sounds. Like a bottle possessed by the devil. You'd think that would be a little scary. But it's not. Strangely it's aluring, soothing, an irresistable temptation.

So I obeyed the calling. Take a shot, doesn't matter if it's cold. I took a shot. Warmth spread through my stomach like butterfly wings unfurling. It's a lovely feeling, that warmth. It reminds me of the opiates. You get wrapped in a warm blanket, and a smile comes to your face. Oh yes. Maybe that's why I like the alcohol so much.

But I took the one shot and stuck my bottle in the freezer so I couldn't hear it calling me. But it's voice surpassed it's icy cage, and I released it again. Another shot down. I gave up and left the bottle out on the counter, right in my sight. I think I took about ten more shots, but I wasn't that drunk.

No more tonight. I can't tonight, I don't want it. But I do.
07 October 2005 @ 03:08 pm
How is it a person has bad dreams when they're wide awake?

I've been sitting at my desk all day, trying to read a cheery story, but I can't. I'm losing focus even typing this. I'm hot, now I'm cold. I'm sweating, but I've got goosebumps. I'm not sick. I don't feel physically ill. This is all in my head, you know. That's weird. Having the symptoms of being sick, but not *feeling* sick, I mean.

I woke up last night at 1:00 in the morning. I drank a cup of water, filled up another cup and drank that. The light was on and I don't remember turning it on. I don't remember turning it off. But when I woke up again around 3:00, it was off. I had no blankets, Brendan was lying on them all. But I didn't mind because I was dripping sweat. I dozed off again. Forty five minutes later I'm awake again, shivering. I'm surprised I didn't crack a tooth. I slept again and didn't wake up until 7:30.

Ah, exercise time. Quiet morning time. It's always been my favorite time, right when I wake up in the morning. It's only later in the day I start feeling bad, over run. Burden, I guess it's called. You can't imagine what I carry on my shoulders. Well, I'm sure you do (who ever you are). Everyone has their burdens.

My burdens are unspoken words, silenced for fear I might anger someone who I only want love from. I hate harsh words when I'm only trying to speak my mind. I also hate being told to shut up, which is what happens a lot when I speak. The only safe way to get stuff out of one's head is to write it, or type it. You can't interrupt someone when they're typing. I dare you to try.

But, my burdens. They aren't anything special. But they are so heavy. Maybe it would be easier to just cut my tongue out. It would suck, yes, but then I wouldn't have to think about what I can't say from fear. I would only be thinking about how I don't have a tongue, and how much better that is for everyone and especially me. Yes, cut out my tongue, cut out my eyes so I can't cry. Cut out my voice box so there's no noise from me at all. That would be heaven. No one could look at me with false pity or disdain. I suppose they could, but I would never know. I can't see. Take away my ears too, while we're at it. Shut out all that hate, misery, jealousy, pain, fear, anger. Take your fucking emotions away from me, make me Apathy.

If I had no emotions, I wouldn't be dying here. Why can't they see I'm dying? Right in front of them. But I'm ok as long as I respond to their questions with, "It's nothing, I'm ok, just feeling weird."

No, I'm not feeling *weird*. I'm feeling like I'm suffocating on emotions. That isn't weird, it's very distinct.

There's too much to worry about on this rainy day. I wish it would just go away.
05 October 2005 @ 06:42 am
It feels like hell out here today. No, it's not overly hot. And, no, I haven't seen any devils.

I've seen myself, though. I saw myself this morning. Feeling half drugged, I worked out and stared in the mirror, and weighed myself. I went down a pound. I gained two, lost one. That's not the point. I don't even care about that right now.

I can't sleep. I'm sure I got about three hours last night. From the way I feel, it could be five minutes. I turned, rolled. When my leg went numb, I would switch to the other side. When my back started hurting, I was over again. Every time the blankets russled, I woke up and stared at the darkness for 30 minutes.

I hate falling asleep. I'm afraid, I realized. Right before I get into a deep sleep, I'm in a trance. No, not really a trance. What can I call it? I feel drunk, doped up. Like I can't move. But when I do move, I jerk to reality again. Then it all starts over. The anxiety, closing my eyes half way shut, and laying there. Afraid I won't be able to breathe if I fall asleep. That's what it is.

I sleep on my stomach, see. My mouth isn't covered by the pillow, but right next to the bed. When I start to drift off, it feels like my throat closes up and I have to move. Move anything (my arm, legs, head) to get my air way unblocked. But it's not really blocked. It's all in my head, and I know this, but it won't stop.

I get home from work and sit in front of the tv. I'm not watching the tv. What I am watching is everyone around me. Why are they all smiling? And how come no one is looking at me? No one is touching me, giving me attention. So I sit there, or maybe I'll go upstairs and read and wait for the morning to come again.

Time doesn't exist anymore. I can't keep track, anyways. All I know is the difference between night and day. The difference is during the day there are people around to help if I stop breathing, or if I go blind suddenly. Or if everything just stops.

At night, I'm all alone and my mind plays horrible tricks on me. It tells me things about myself that I don't need to hear. It clogs my throat, drugs me, sends me into a black void. I've got my eyes wide open, but I can't see anything. I hear the steady breathing of someone next to me. But where is my breath? It's gone. I can't hear myself, I can't see myself, I can't move myself. I am only a brain, rotting in this body.

I'm a fucking retard.
30 September 2005 @ 09:54 am
Things are bad today.

Very bad.
27 September 2005 @ 12:19 pm
This morning I watched a spider weave its web. It was one of those big garden spiders, sprinkled with yellow and black. I know it's body was at least an inch long. With leg span included, it was at least three inches across.

My entire front yard is home to these huge creatures. I don't mind them at all, unless I run into one of their webs. The silk they use to make them is so strong that you literally bounce off and it doesn't break.

But I watched it this morning, my eyes wide with fascination. I don't think I'd ever watched a spider do it's work before. It walked so carefully across the invisible strings. This is because it's so big. If it wasn't careful, it would most certainly fall and break it's own web, and therefore have to start over again. Almost looking like a tight rope walker, she made her way across the precarious edge, spinning her silk to make the deadly trap.

It took so much care and patience, that for a moment I felt bad about hating spiders so much. They really are fascinating. I imagined myself spending that much time to do something for a meal. I imagined myself every morning repairing my trap, only to wait to have it broken again. Who would have thought I could learn something from a spider? What did I learn?

I learned that no matter how much time you put into a project, or a person, that it (or they) can still break on you. Just because you want something to work with your whole being doesn't mean it will. In fact, most of the time the web will break, and you have to set out to fix it again, and again, and again. There is no end to work. There is no end to bad things. But good things will come out of your work. A meal, a place to sleep, something to be proud of. And as long as you keep rebuilding what was broken, then you'll be ok. You'll live.
25 September 2005 @ 10:29 am
This guy I work with, Blue, just sold me his bike for ten dollars! I thought I was going to be out 100 dollars or so. This is awesome. And it's a girl's bike too!

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25 September 2005 @ 09:21 am
I gained a pound. I'm 126 now. I wonder how that happened. It must have been that enormous chicken pot pie I ate last night. It was worth it though... It was sooo tasty. Mmm.. pot pie.

I want to by a bike. That would be fun exercise, you know? Riding around all day on my little bicycle. And it would build up my legs and butt, which I want. It's supposed to work out the tummy area too, so that will get toned, hopefully. Bikes are fun. I can pretend it's a motorcycle. I'm still like a little kid.