11:19pm 13/01/2006
  I'm killing my unborn child . . .  
01:49am 10/07/2005
  She lied . . .
Almost through it away . . .
It took me crumbling in fear of losing her to understand . . .
Is this what I want?
It won't be the same . . .
At least for a while . . .
If I find out she dose, it's over . . .
Yet, I still love her . . .
Am I just blind . . .?
Or is it something . . . more . . .?
11:36pm 03/05/2005
  I'm worried.

Things fall apart . . .
09:01pm 26/04/2005
  Staring at the sun
no rays down on me
I call you in my arms
embrace is unreal

You're moving on
we'll never be apart
just drain my tears
I cry aloud

You're moving on
you'll never be a part
of all my tears
I cry aloud

Calling on your sins
you're here in my dreams
a desert place
I'm not alone

Do you really
want to be me?

You're moving on
we'll never be apart
just drain my tears
I cry aloud

You're moving on
you'll never be a part
of all my tears
I cry aloud

Alicia and I are no more. She took some time to decide if she really wants me. It sucks, badly, but as long as she's happy. . .
11:27pm 02/04/2005
  I've been growing increasingly paranoid over these past few weeks, and hearing about Jon just makes it worse . . .  
10:37pm 21/02/2005
  This is amazing. I'm sharing my most hidden moments with her. Parts about myself I've never wanted to acknowledge. My dark secrets and torments. My supressed fears. The things I'm not proud of. Things I never thought would ever leave my mouth . . . I share them with her. These things bring us together and I've never been happier. This is what keeps me alive.  
11:00am 04/02/2005
  Considering no on knows this exists anymore, I'm sure I'm safe

" figured it out. why I can't be with you anymore. You left, and it was hte catalyst to a wold of pain. I realized the break down was a result of your leaving me for someone else. I know we switched back and forth a lot, but the thouhts still lingered. I can't be with anyone who did that to me, then again, it is my curse, but it is my gift. I gained moreinsight to the world and I identify with my raven tressed beauty now . . . I'm conflicted . . . I think another reason may be the ficklness of your affection for me. one week you love me, the next you hate me, the next we're okay, then you hate me again; I couldn't deal with the stress. and it's happened all the way to recent. It's not we have nothing in common, although that may be true, there is more; I don't want to be in a platonic relationship with somone that cn turn on me in a few days. I have anough stress, I don't need that. This is my reasons, I'm sorry"

maybe I'll have the courage to say that to her face one day . . .

on a lighter note, bands I've missed in the past year:

thrill kill kult
the cramps
the cure
the legendary pink dots
shadows fall (x3)
Cradle of filth
arch enemy
cattle decapitation
in flames

this is sick, I used to go to shows all the time and now I barely go. What's weird is beore I didn't have a job and I had the money, now, I have a job but no money. NExt time any of these bands come, I'm going. No more missing out on my lively hood becuase of something lame. Ironically enough live music is what's been keeping me form drugs . . . and if I can't go the urges get stronger . . . not again. I refuse. Next time a band comes, I'm going.
     Read 5 - Post
01:35am 23/01/2005
  The Phantom of the Opera. The more I listen to this soundtrack I love it.

I realized the reason why I don't want any contact with Liz, but I don't htink she knows . . .

If Alica ever doubts my feelings for her, all she needs to think of is the sacrifice I'm making for her now. My medication blinds me and will just cause another breakdown when she leaves me . . . like last time . . . and I want to stop it, but that would add concerna nd worry to her and just make things more difficult. So I shall just supress my feelings until they explode again in order to make it easier for her . . . Am I stupid? No, I want to do what's best for her . . .
     Read 1 - Post
08:34pm 20/01/2005
  I stopped taking my medication. For a few reasons actualy . . . but it's brought back all those felings again.

I hate myself and I screw everything up. For some reason I can't stand the person I was with for two years. She brings uneeded stress and I seem to get sucked right back into it.

I can't do enough to be there for the one I love right now and it's ripping me apart. I fail everytime. She cannot count on me to be there; I'm too unstable. I just drag her down.

I'm fixated on the past. All the ambiguous images haunt me and I can't let go. I just fall into this downward spiral of self loathing and instability. The meds didn't even seem to be working anyways. They blind me, from my own self. I become ignorant of my own emotions. I may be miserable without them, but at least I can see who I am . . . and I hate it. This person in the mirror, I don't know him, yet I hate him. He was once like me, the way I am now. It's sickening how you can hate yourself so much. I wish I was stronger, strong enough to take on life. to take on myself.

I wish there was some way to make this go away. I wish I didn't have to know that this is a direct result of my own actions. Fucking heroin; that catalyst to my genetic flaw. I blame myself for everything.

I odn't know what to do? Go back on the meds, and live in ignorance? or run the risk of eradicating myself from this world as a result of too much torment? I'm not even strong enough to decide for myself. She wants me to go back on . . maybe I should . . . but maybe I shouldn't. This is why I need to leave here. Go away for a long time, sleep, escape from life and everything it brings.

For here I will. I bring her down, but I do it less on the medication . . . I guess ignorance is . . . bliss? hmph, doesn't seem like it.
10:44pm 18/01/2005
  Today I told a person the one thing a vowed would never leave my lips . . . I'm surprised, hapy, and worried. IF this gets out, my life is over :/  
11:57pm 20/12/2004
  I hate Christmas. This happens almost every year; I get horribly depressed for no reason . . . well there is a reason.

This break is going to suck. Work and I will see Alicia only two times. I was trying to hard to make this christmas a good one, but it looks like I will fail again.

Why do I fail at everything? I can't do anything right . . .
11:57pm 20/12/2004
  I hate Christmas. This happens almost every year; I get horribly depressed for no reason . . . well there is a reason.

This break is going to suck. Work and I will see Alicia only two times. I was trying to hard to make this christmas a good one, but it looks like I will fail again.

Why do I fail at everything? I can't do anything right . . .
11:57pm 20/12/2004
  I hate Christmas. This happens almost every year; I get horribly depressed for no reason . . . well there is a reason.

This break is going to suck. Work and I will see Alicia only two times. I was trying to hard to make this christmas a good one, but it looks like I will fail again.

Why do I fail at everything? I can't do anything right . . .
03:13am 20/12/2004
  Sometimes I wish I was dead. This is why she never calls me when she's upset. I just make things worse. I let my own feelings and thoughts get in the way and I become fixated on them; I discover new things about myself which I hate. I just drag myself down and drag her with me. I disgust myself and it's events like this that make me hate myself. She doesn't want to rely on me to fix her problems, which is smart. It's the goddamn exact thing I'm doing. I'm just repeating my mistakes; growing dependant on a person in order to make my pain go away. It hurt like no otehr when it fell apart and I know it will hurt agian. I'm repeating myself but the difference is I know what will happen, but I know I will do nothing aobut it. If I'm left to my own account to deal with my own problems I know I won't be able to handle it, I never have been. I've just been lucky to have found people to help me with the problems I wasn't strong enough to handle. People show their ignorance when they tell me to go off my medication.
Those who tell me have no idea what it's like for me. Without my medication it is hell, I mean that in the most literal sense. With the meds it lifts a bit, and with alicia it almost completely goes away. With the medication episodes are much less frequent, but when one hits, I do not know what to do about it. I cannot rely on my mind because it just leads me in circles. At least Alicia helps supress them, but I know she won't be around forever, and when she gets tierd of me and can't stand to look at me, she will leave, and I know I will fall apart. I have the opertunity to change my ways but I know I won't. I'd rather enjoy some happiness and have a large break down than live in hell constantly.
Last night, I scared myself. I completely slipped away form reality and now I suffer hergaze for sometihng that Isn't my fault.
Why must I feel that everything I my fault? All my pain, all her pain. I just want to help her but she's not even willing, but for good reasons.
I feel drained . . . I won't sleep tonight and I wonder if this will go away.
Why am I killing myself?
01:29am 18/12/2004
  Soon after my breakdown in May, I felt very Derelict, like I was abandoned by myself and the one I cared most for. I had a huge empty hole inside of me that I desperately sought out to fill. My background has never been filled with very much religious dogma, my parents always left it up to me to decide for myself. Since I was a child I never held any faith of my own, but in new light of my own subconscious, things changed. I felt as If I needed something to believe in, something to help me gain strength from. I had always put strength inside myself, and now it had failed me, so was there something else? Was there something else I needed? I was drained. I began to search myself for any hint of a religious conviction. My search turned up empty. I was not able to put my faith in something I couldn’t be sure of. I couldn’t find any trace of religious faith in my heart. People had always claimed that in their greatest time of need, they had always felt God, or Jesus, or some other deity, and all I felt was nothing. I felt that if there was truly a god, why do this to me? I felt that even from that point of view this pain was not worth the mistakes that preceded it. My emptiness soon grew to a sort of contempt. “Tutto ció che sarai, era gia stato scritto. Se davvero esiste, questo dio ha fallito.” This roughly translates from Italian to “All that you will be, has already been written. If he truly exists, this god has failed” Those words spoke to me. That was exactly how I felt, like if there truly was a god out there they had failed in ensnaring me as a follower. The contempt I felt for whatever deity might be out there soon turned to envy, envy for those who were able to so blindly place their faith in something and have it remove all their pain. It gave people something to believe in, draw strength from, and give reasoning to the pains of the world. I was unable to do that. I was unable to throw away my yearning for reason and science as a means to explain the world, including my own mind. I felt as if religion took a part of reason from the individual and I rejected it, even though I wished I could have it. Some people are find bliss in ignorance; however I was unable to accept it on the inside. I longed for that feeling however, the feeling of bliss that comes with ignoring the world. The religious questioning burned a hole inside that further magnified the emptiness. The months of questioning, paired with my own fall into insanity put my soul, spirit, essence, whatever an individual wishes to call it, through an extreme test. Unfortunately I still question my faith on almost a daily basis. It’s ironic how religion can disgust me so much and still fascinate me the way it does.  
Lapse of Synthetic Release   
01:40am 14/12/2004
mood: depressed
music: The Sisters of Mercy-Lucretia My Reflection
Life is odd. Everything in my life is going well; I have a wonderful, beautiful girlfriend who I get along with extremely well, who makes me feel happieer than any person ever could and who I do the same to, or atleast try. I have a job, great parents, good friends, and no external pain. And yet . . . I am miserable right now. I attribute this to the removal of my antipsychotic.
My medication dose was raised but after I would get sick once a week, so my psychiatrist removed me from the medication for a week to see if the Abilify (antipsychotic) was the cause of the sickness. I now know how much that medication truly helped me. I fell immediately. Flares constantly, hte only thing that chopped them down to hours was the helping hand of Alicia. The lack of medication made my mind of wild. I got depressed suddenly and began to contemplate many things. I wish I had a more tangible past. Everything, all my experiences and such could all be a lie. My entire person is based on events that may or may not have taken place. It's frustrating to try to ponder your origin when it's unknown. I wish I had a past I could see, and know for sure what happened. I recently found out that much of the testing I went through over the summer didn't happen. When my father informed me of this after reading a paper of mine I broke down crying. I should be used to this by now, finding out events were a lie, but I'm not. Part of me wants to because I know that I will have to deal with this for the rest of my life , but part of me doesn't because that means it will happen often enough for me to adapt. I have also been wondering about how this all came aobut.
My drug use was nothing to what I rmeember, but due to testimonies form various friends and aquaintances form the time, I was very fond of heroin. Now I wonder, was it the drugs that conjured up these problems? or was it just hormones and a genetic flaw. I have a perfect life otherwise, the only thing that holds me back is one tiny little gene on a chromosome. It inhibits my potential and causes my own mind to be hte bastion that covers my own wings. I am weighing me down. It's sickening.
It's also sad that my specific case has never been recorded before, so the best thing they can do is slap the closest label on it and give me a wide variety of drugs. It's depressing to know that no one out there truly knows what my head is like, no one truly knows what these surreal feelings feel like.
Alicia is the person who understands best. She comes from the same emotional background, and with her next to me, I don't feel as alone.
It's those events in the past that I can't get out of my head. It's funny, it's the past I want to forget so much, but the past I keep running into, I feel like I'm running in circles. I want to know so bad why I feel this way,a nd why I am like this, but I know I will probably never find the answers to my 'why's.
This is the one good thing aobut the medication being removed; I am able to question things, before I never thought about this, but I know I will probably never get those answers.
What has made these few days so hard is that Alicia has fallen apart to, and she's done so much for me I feel obligated to help her out, but it doesn't seem to work. Our feelings are not completely mutual . . . I am bound to her becuase she is the only one I can confide in openly. She saved me from death.
The night before I went off the medication (actualy the catalyst for the removal) I had a horrible flar in which my chest began to burn and I couldn't breathe, I honestly thought I was going to die, I even scribbled a quick note aobut what was happening so when they found me. Not too long ago I would have let go, and just slid away. I used to not fear death, but now . . . I thought of Alicia, and how I can't leave her now, I can't do that to her. There was so much she had done for me, and I had failed her many times, I had to grip this life for her. I needed to hold on. Whether I was actualy dying or not I will never know, probably not, but the feelings were there none the less.
I am writing this on my third night of no sleep. ever since I was removed from my pills, I wnet back to the way things used to be. I hate sleeping while my head is going wild, and I've gone back to not a shread of rest when I sleep. I go to bed, dream then wake up feeling like I just lay down. and the dreams . . . I have to question if they are reality or dream. I never realized my pills did so much to me. Art helps me too, when ever I'm having a flare, if I can paint or draw it helps me calm down.
I don't have a psychologist appointment for quite some time and this is my way of writing it down so to speak. Next time I'm with him I want to try this EMDT, or something like that. It's an a form of therapy that centers on feelings of tramatic experiences and helps you get over them. I thingk the memories of things are what's causing much of this pain.
In a way, this lapse of synthetic release is good, it shows me how much I truly rely on those pills. It also makes me wonder how much am I truly dependant on Alicia. True, when she's upset, I fall apart too, but that's because I feel I have to be there for her and when I can't, or I have failed, it breaks me apart. I always thought she took all of this pain away, but now I realize it is only a small bit. She does help especially when I need to talk, but I think now the medication was doing more for me that I anticipated and remember.
I have not gotten sick lately, but I have cried on multiple occasions.
I am still horribly disgusted with this person I am . . . I can't handle the burdens I placed upon myslef, be it through my own mind, or through past drug use. I'm so waek it scares me. I have become a prouduct of my own subconcious. I think I will call up my Psychiatrist tomorrow and request a new perscription becuase it looks as if the Abilify was making me sick, and wihtout it I have too many issues my feeble mind can take. A new one might help, something that can keep my mind at bay and not make me sick every week.
It's amazing how much my life can take a turn in sucha short period of time . . .
The shadows of the past   
01:06am 17/11/2004
  I still remember vividly the tree, on a hill, in the shadow of an apartment building. In that location, the boy known as Robert Danford died. The blood of his former life drained away and his spirit ascended into the sky, not to come down for hours. When the spirit finally did return to the fallen body, it had changed. The old ways lost.
That incident will always stick out in my mind, but not for as the ending of a period of being a slave to poppy, but as the beginning to a whole world of mental and physical pain and torment. My death would be the catalyst to two major problems throughout the next few years, the first beginning immediately.
After the majority of my substance abuse was kicked, the realities inside my head fell to pieces, albeit slowly. At first it was little things, such as hearing things, or seeing things I knew weren’t right. They started little, but the rate of my unreality issue grew exponentially. Eventually my entire existence became surreal.
I once heard an analogy of ADD described as there being many television sets on in the individuals mind at once, soon, my head became like three sets, and the struggle was deciding which one was real.
My head would sink into a world of its own, ideas, images, and sounds would swirl around me and it was incredibly difficult to bring me back to reality.
The most intoxicating drug known is the human mind. It has enough power to create the most wonderful things imaginable, but also the power to destroy the strongest person.
My mental state grew wore with each passing day. Eventually it grew to the point of constant intoxication. The world was surreal, I had to question events that had happened not more than ten minuets past, to see if they had truly happened.
In fear of all of these things reaching the outside world, I gathered together a shell, something to block my true feelings from the peering eyes of the people around me, the very people that disgusted me. Due to my exceptional talent at hiding myself from the world, not a single person knew of my agony.
Slowly all my emotions piled up within the shell and began to ferment, waiting to release their further intoxicating waves upon me, waiting for my mental dam to break and unleash all my memories and feelings.
I knew I was only delaying the inevitable, but I had hoped that the time would come at a much later time.
Little did I know the same event that caused every little problem, would be the cause of a breakdown that would nearly destroy me.
One day, in May of 2004, I began to contemplate my past. All the horrific memories that haunted me daily, they seemed more and more forced upon me. There was inconsistencies within my own mind, and very little evidence to support even the most significant event in my life to date; my death.
I remember, staring at what little evidence I could muster, pondering the past. It was all too much for me; I had to get out of my house. I took a walk around the Gila Springs neighborhood when the realization came to me. I still remember my exact location when my own mind became the explosives that destroyed my barrier form the world. I was at the fountain on Gila Springs Boulevard, at 1:53 am. The realization hit me like a bus. It never happened. The pain, the sorrow, the fun, the people, the memories . . . the death, it all never happened. I fell to my knees screaming, and clawing at my head. Was it all a lie? I kept repeating to myself.
After my several intervals of screams, tears finally rolled down my face. It was all too much. The months that would follow would be the hardest months of my life. Two years of pent up anguish, pain, sorrow, despair, regret . . . it all came out at once. The significance of the following months was not the individual events, but the emotions I felt.
After that night I had an enormous identity crisis; I always believed that everything in the past, makes up the person you are in the future. I had lost my past, so where did that leave me now? I was drained. I could no longer differentiate between what was real, and what was just a mere figment of my mind, nor could I decipher between my dreams and consciousness. Constant memories of what I thought to be the past haunted me daily, I constantly wondered if my death was just a dream, and this is reality, or was it real, and are these memories just reminders of the nightmare which I will never be able to wake from. Sleep soon became a novelty, I slept and slept and slept and I gained no rest whatsoever. I was mentally exhausted and it was affecting me in every shape. For the first time in my life, I was actually afraid.
After a week, I had screamed so much, I had cried so much that whenever the feelings came to me, I could never bring myself to do it. I longed for a release. As the weeks dragged on, I put together what I could of a shell, to hide the world from myself, to hide my unblinking gaze and judgment from myself. It was quite Ironic, I was doing the one thing that put me in this predicament; this was the price I paid for holding everything in. During the two weeks after the breakdown, my conditioned worsened. On top of the mental conflicts I was having, I had to deal with normal adolescent problems. My girlfriend of two years left me for someone else in my most dire time of need. Various incidents such as this brought on stress which in turned offered a new form of surreal ness. What I described as a flare was brought on by stress and it was characterized by a severe surreal feeling that would envelop me and cause serious depression, unreality and agony. These flares could last hours or days, each time one struck me; it would move the bar of unreality higher and higher, making normal consciousness even more unbearable each time. I handled being left for another person much better than expected given my current emotional state; this was because I had poured out all my emotions to other causes, so all I could do was watch her walk away.
No longer concerning myself with worldly problems my gaze focused inward. I stopped eating for days at a time. As the planes of reality moved further and further away from me, and the agony I suffered from each day grew worse and worse, thoughts of release seeped inside my head. My body, it burned for resolve and I saw one way out; the eradication of my essence.
I wished my life would return and finish me off. I felt I was not strong enough to carry the burdens I had brought down upon myself. I no longer felt alive. I was still undecided where I stood on my own existence. I felt like a corpse, wandering this world waiting to find my place of eternal rest, of eternal dreams.
As time went on I feared that another breakdown was building, one that would be more severe than the first. I figured when that time came, I would no longer have any conscious control over my actions; my fear of being institutionalized manifested.
The words of Cristina Scabbia, a favorite poet of mine, kept coming to my head; “Il Mio destino scelgo, se riesco a resitere” this means “I’ll choose my destiny, if I’m able to resist” Cristina’s work often gave me words to describe my feelings. I was truly lost in her work. “Hiding all my fears, my nightmare is becoming real, take a look at me, I’m a loser”
One night I sat down at a notebook and wrote for hours. Emotions, thoughts, fears, anything that would be an insight into the mind came out on to the paper. I created a record of my madness in order to have my side of the story incase I was put into in institution, or dead. Both were very real possibilities. After the initial entry, I began to document the flares and my emotions. Looking back on it now, much of it is incoherent nonsense filled with random emotions and thoughts.
I remember sitting on my floor, staring at the blade formed of from my own mistakes.
I picked it up and starred at it for at least an hour. Finally after the tears streaming down my faces ceased, I threw it aside. I was not strong enough to endure the time between the slash, and the draining of my blood. Instead I emptied a bottle of Hydrocodones, at least twenty lay in front of me. Overdose isn’t too bad, there would be a moment of doubt between the time they were consumed, and the time my life ended, a moment of panic, and then it’s euphoric. You just slide into the ether, never to look back.
I picked up one, and swallowed it. It followed by a volley of three, then one more. I thought, was this the answer? I put another one down my throat. Is this what I’ve been forced to? I swallowed another. I began to ponder my weaknesses, and then I stopped moving. I starred at the wall for what felt like hours. I was doing this because of a lack of my own strength, was this the best way to prove to myself that I am strong? I gathered up the pills and put them into the bottle. There must be another way. Suicide is for the weak minded; those who cannot find another way to deal with their life, so they take the easy way out. I was not weak person. I had gotten, or at least I remember getting over hardships before, I could do it again. I theorized things would get better, but I was too ignorant to see the truth.
The question of medication had planted itself into my head throughout the weeks, but I adamantly ejected it. Artificial release was not the way to go, all it would bring would be unneeded side effects and it would destroy what person I had left further removing me from life.
This was my first attempt to pull myself out of my pit.
I realized, the only way to help the situation, was to slowly reveal my struggle to the world. My journal I had been keeping was my answer; I gave it to two close friends. I use the term close loosely because neither of them knew the trials I was going through. Immediately they both began to worry. Eventually I worked up the courage to accost my parents. They became equally concerned. The combination of worry I received from my friends and parents, made things worse. I lost all the ground I had made. For the next few weeks all I felt was despair and regret. I felt I was dragging those I loved down this empty spiral with me. I quickly put together a shell again. It wasn’t healthy, but it was better than having everyone worry about me. Obviously the conditioned worsened and things got bad. My resolve wavered and I took part in several more attempts at my life. I was drowning in a sea of regret and despair; it was sickening.
Finally I realized what I was missing: Companionship. I began to miss the feelings of being cared for, and knowing there was someone to turn back to. I missed an intimate relationship. I tried looking in all the wrong places, but all it did was make things worse. I found nothing, and all it did was further widen the hole inside of me. Loneliness is magnified by insanity. I was a mess of emotions and I became incredibly unstable, which makes finding affection very difficult.
Finally I was dragged into get help. This would be the first of a months worth of testing; hospitals, blood tests, and psyche screenings. I don’t remember specific events, but the term schizophrenia was tossed around along with several drug names. I immediately rejected it. Drugs were not the answer, however, as time went on I was faced with three options; Death, letting my mind drag me into oblivion, or the release of medication, either way, I figured the person I am would cease to exist. I choose synthetic release as my alternative. I went to the Desert Samaritan’s psyche ward for further evaluation. Due to my extensive skills at talking my way out of things, I was able to convince them not to commit me. Although I was considered a danger to myself and others, I was able to show enough understanding of my own mind, which was a complete fabrication, which enabled me to dodge the white gown. I hate hospitals, the thought of being in one scared me more than my own head. My alternative was the beginning of drugs. It took eight vials of blood for them to finally figure out that it wasn’t a physical condition, I was not surprised. After several psychologists, therapists and psychiatrists, the term disassociative schizophrenia was brought up. Apparently I was quite an anomaly, my specific symptoms had never surfaced before, but there was enough evidence to point them in that direction. I was juggling an array of medicines including the antidepressant Lexapro, and the Antipsychotics, Risperdal and Abilify. Each few weeks I was being switched from one to another to find the ideal result. I was informed I will be on these medications for the rest of my life and that by the time I am forty, I will need a kidney or liver transplant due to the intensity of the medications.
Eventually they lead me to where I am now. Medicated to evade the terrors of my own mind, but never escaping the surrealness and unreality of life, I figure I never will.
The medication reduced the frequency of the flares, but the overall feelings never left. The combination of medication, frequent talks with professionals, and companions helped me drag myself off the floor. The best advice I’ve ever received in my life came from an unlikely person, he said your mind forms the person you are based on your experiences, even if they never happened your mind still went through it and therefore the person you are never changes. These words helped me forget about my past.
I have finally filled the empty space inside me with a person who makes me forget about my life, she is the only thing that truly makes me happy anymore, and although nothing lasts forever, one of the many things I have learned is happiness is happiness, and it won’t be around forever. If misery would be present in normal circumstances, I might as well grab onto what ever fills me with this feeling of joy and enjoy the time it lasts.
Although the memories still linger in my head, I cannot say I have walked away from this event without any insight into life. I no longer stress out over trivial matters because it is not worth it. Such things that teenagers often refer to as ‘drama’ is something I try to exclude myself from now, all it does is add stress that is completely un needed.
The most important thing I learned was I am now able to overcome anything. Although I still feel too weak, the evidence shows that I can fix my own mistakes.
Portions of those events still linger in my head but they are like the memories, they will never leave, they are hear to remind me of the mistakes I made and hopefully prevent me from repeating them. These are the experiences that form the shadows of the past.
10:45pm 16/10/2004
  dammit, I'm an idiot. I may have scarred away the one thing that makes me happy.  
     Read 4 - Post
12:13am 24/09/2004
  Crawling from the floor,
I've been there before.
There I was staring
back at the bottom.
Let's just make this clear,
it came from these tears.
Carved across our chest, loyalty.
And with the new light,
there was young hope.
To underline the meaning,
and carve our names in.

At the end of August, the end of...
I'll never replace the ones I first made, Jesus, does anyone?

So I lit lanterns,
to light up all these words,
looking back I know
it's what I'd die for.
And through all of this life,
smashed away all the strife,
a friendship I paint, untouchable.

And I want you to know
how all of you made me,
how all of you saved me and...

I'll never replace the ones I first made, Jesus, does anyone?

usually this position would bother me. but now standing on my own I realize this is a problem of someone that is not me. I think I'm done with this thing. It was quickly lost it's novelty and there are only two people who read it and they both seem to have problems with me for some reason or another. so have a good life shanna and liz.
11:52pm 20/09/2004

Would it make things easier if I were gone
Would it make things right if I was never wrong
Would it make things easier if I were gone
Would it make things easier

All the times you took for granted that I waited here for you
I was on another planet, I was waiting there for you

She said
Would it make things easier if I were gone
Would it make things right if I was never wrong
Would it make you happy when you sing your song
Would it make things easier

I was blind and I was faded and I didn't have a clue
I was always into something that I always had to do

He said
Would it make things easier if I were gone
Would it make things right if I was never wrong
Would it make you happier to move along
Would it make things easier

All the awful things we say, all the stupid games we play
Every night and everyday, I don't know what else to say

Would it make things easier if I were gone
Would it make things right if I was never wrong
Would it make you happier to be alone
Would it make things easier
Would it make things easier if I were gone
Would it make you happier to be alone
Would it make things right if I was never wrong
Would it make things easier
Would it make things easier