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[04 Jan 2009|12:18pm] |
your clock is ticking
your heart is beating
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| empty, suddenly. |
[28 Dec 2008|12:52am] |
the world is such a big lonely place.
i'm very lost in it.
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| patience patience it will come |
[27 Dec 2008|12:59am] |
| [ |
mood |
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awake |
] |
| [ |
music |
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i am waiting |
] |
i looked back a few years and saw that i haven't changed.
what kind of person have i become? and who am i living for?
because it's not myself. no.
i've been receding for a long time. if i go too much further, i won't be able to turn back. and the meager scraps that i'm clutching at won't be any of the things that i really want.
well.
you won't find what you're looking for under the sheets.
or in your bookcase.
or in the branches of the trees outside your bedroom window.
or in your cat's fur.
or in old photographs or picture books.
or in the dirty pile of clothing on the closet floor.
or in a bottle of vodka.
you'd better fucking do something. soon.
you'd better snap out of it.
anyway, i know you're bitter. you can't help it, it's ok.
but don't let it destroy you.
send something good into the cosmos. whether you get anything back in return or not.
just fucking do it, because it's better than something bad.
it's better than nothing.
you don't want to be that type.
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| black |
[25 Dec 2008|02:43pm] |
Weeds are not supposed to grow
But by degrees
Some achieve a flower, although
No one sees.
i just want to scream it.
ugh.
so unfuckingfair!
so, so unfair.
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| on the floor of my room tonight |
[06 Dec 2008|01:09am] |
| [ |
music |
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"smoke like ribbon" |
] |
a yellow sweater
a glass of vodka
a cat
unopened birthday cards
an empty kleenex box
books, books, books
a measuring cup
a mirror
a box of pastels
socks, underwear
driftwood
maybe i get depression and reflection mixed up.
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| the next life |
[04 Dec 2008|11:14pm] |
i am gathering everything up. i'm making little piles.
i might even buy a monthly planner (i know, awful).
but, shut up, teenaged thing.
cynic.
this is a good start.
i can't stay this way forever.
i still think of you every night.
despite logic and rationale. i overcome practical thought and blunt realities.
i think of you when i fall asleep.
i do not care what my head says.
my heart beats louder.
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| like i always do |
[23 Nov 2008|07:41pm] |
i don't know what i did today.
i think i'm getting sick.
i'm tired and every silly thing makes me cry. all i ever do is try to escape. and feel other people's feelings, because mine aren't tolerable.
anyway. same old shit.
i went out last night. i seem to only have fun when i drink. it's becoming a habit. i just enjoy everything better when i drink. drinking disconnects me from my brain. i don't have to search for anything. i don't feel sad.
look how unhealthy i've become. i drink too much, i eat too much. i don't get enough sleep. i obsess and ruminate. i'm bitter and frustrated and depressed. i wish someone could pull me from this tangled mess.
my birthday is on thursday. i think, something has to change.
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| where does it go |
[17 Nov 2008|08:45pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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nothing |
] |
| [ |
music |
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"sunshine" - sparklehorse |
] |
the sheets are quite dirty.
i missed the bus today, i ran to catch up, but it left two minutes early. i took the 271 and sat next to some hipster with a trendy coat and bad skin. i was very desperate to keep going. i would've gone over the floating bridge, all the way to bellevue. i would've walked to the doll museum, bought a ticket and walked around alone when it's empty. i would have cried. i would have felt that somehow it was meaningful or special. but it wouldn't be. anyway, as hard as i tried, i could not find an excuse for not showing up to work. one day it will just have to be that i quit.
i was thinking,
"where did i go wrong?"
because it must always be me. colleen said it's not. maybe it isn't, but i've got awful luck.
of course i will continue to dwell on this for sometime.
i am a very sad girl.
i feel so funny sometimes. like i could touch invisible creatures with my thoughts. the creatures would pull me away. they would rip me out of my empty, fluorescent space and suddenly everything would register properly and clearly.
i don't mean to be so sad.
i just want
oh, happiness.
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| conclusion for summer |
[17 Nov 2008|06:42am] |
i forgot to set my broken alarm clock.
i slept all night with an aching head.
my strange dreams are finally back again.
too bad about everything.
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| no one sees what i could be |
[12 Nov 2008|11:16pm] |
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i drank when i said i wouldn't.
i talked to julia for 3.5 hours. it was nice, i said things i usually didn't say. i was drinking, that's why.
i'm a bad pet owner.
no, i'm not. stop feeling guilty about everything.
i'm a bad person. i'm very misguided. i've got the right idea, that only makes things worse.
so i deserve what i get. even if i don't want it, even if i pray against it, and hope against it. even if i don't know what i want. even if it's all a sloppy, complicated, convoluted mess of feelings and words and dreams.
i can't be good enough.
for myself. i only hold myself back.
i can be better. i can be so much.
i just need help.
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| the end for now |
[11 Nov 2008|01:00pm] |
here,
i can fold this up and tuck it away in one of the drawers.
i can wrap it in a sweater i never wear
hide it with stale drug paraphernalia and a picture of my old boyfriend.
the incomplete people are those who cling to things outside of themselves.
people who glob onto people
or ideas or things.
oh, but actually
the incomplete people are those who cannot hold onto anything
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| you're worth the trouble and you're worth the pain |
[09 Nov 2008|01:30am] |
| [ |
music |
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"videotape" - radiohead |
] |
well, i don't know.
i feel angry about this. i mean, i say i feel angry. but actually, i don't feel anything.
i should feel angry.
i should be fed up. i am, i am. but what does it matter? there's nothing i can do.
i'm tired.
the way i feel, it don't matter.
it's better to be blank.
i made the dumplings with colleen. the dough was sort of sweet. zach and i watched tv and i put my legs on his lap. i had ideas, but they were born of desperation and boredom and alcohol. god. GOD! i cannot take this anymore.
i don't find this stuff amusing anymore.
what can i do?
poor dave. he's lonely. he is equally as lonely as i am. there are people who are worse off, but we are bad. i hate being in his boat, but i understand it and accept it. i would help him if i wasn't so sure that he'd pull me in. he doesn't understand, but it would be bad for both of us.
it's almost monday. what is the difference between days? it's so painful when they all feel the same. and i'm not making myself better. i don't have goals. i'm not preparing for the future. i have dreams of cutting work to eat soup. i dream of the different excuses i could make. no one cares to hear these things.
i have this idea that we would get on a bus or a ferry or the train. we could go to the grand coulee dam or vancouver island. anyplace i've never been. but no, even the peninsula would do. or even north bend, really. just rescue me. get me away from here, i'm dying.
please.
i have come to the end of my words on this matter.
i've run out, but the feelings still pulse hot and white and fuzzy inside.
i could cry. i say it, i feel it.
come rescue me.
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[02 Nov 2008|08:08am] |
i don't know how i will drag myself back to work tomorrow.
i don't know how i will keep going this way.
i'm trying to think of ways to distract myself. losing weight, reading, doing artwork. anything that will make things seems worthwhile, to continue onward. i don't know if this is enough to hold me up.
has anyone had a nervous breakdown from loneliness? would they say it's actually something else? would they rehabilitate me, only for the same thing to happen again in a year? will it be a cycle that keeps repeating for the rest of my life? or will i eventually truly resign myself to it and accept it?
i don't waste time with these thoughts. i mean, i do, but what does it matter? what's really more important than love in life? what's a better thing to hound you?
i think i'm so dramatic, but I'M NOT. no way.
why is it that you can call me at your convenience, say what you want to say, and it's perfectly acceptable? you're able to attempt to get things off your chest. but i want to call you, and i'm not allowed. you don't want to hear my woes. and i can't say them to you, anyway. i only sound like a pathetic little girl.
that's what i am.
i cannot cannot cannot go on this way.
please.
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| the days are not full enough |
[01 Nov 2008|02:43pm] |
i woke up with a horrible hangover. i spent the early morning reading poems. but it wasn't for myself. or any good reason.
my room is a mess. there's a pile of laundry, and i haven't vacuumed in a month, i think. my sheets feel slick against my bare legs. i imagine them matted with sweat and dirt.
it's november 1st. this day is supposed to hold some kind of meaning for me. good things have happened to me on this day in the past. it's the first day of my month. but maybe that was a different place, where those good things happened. maybe i'm just inventing this idea.
i used to drive home from work by way of harbor road. it was winding and gloomy and beautiful any time of year. the water was still and silent, and it was hard to imagine real people living in the houses nestled in the woods along the side of the road. there were people, but i wasn't connected to any of them, so i decided it must be a lonely, empty place there. i moved as far away as i could. there's nothing like harbor road here, not that i've seen. but there is the same empty feeling. it didn't follow me, it was simply a part of me all along.
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[30 Oct 2008|09:39pm] |
i've had a headache that's dogged me since breakfast. i'm a mess. everything is dirty. i drank too much. i ate too much, sobered up, and wasted all of that alcohol.
maybe i'm just tired.
i had a strange feeling this morning, i didn't know what it was. i guess it was a bad feeling. not the way i felt on the day i was attacked. but then someone lit himself on fire by the library on campus. he tried to kill himself.
i always feel so desperate. in my head, i feel like i'm a desperate person who's dying for things. but i guess i'm not at all.
i'd never be brave enough to light myself on fire.
or desperate enough, i guess.
save your dirty tissues. you called me because you wanted to commiserate. you wanted to cry to some other sad sack.
how pathetic. for both of us.
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| the next act |
[29 Oct 2008|10:16pm] |
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it's cold. everything's a mess.
the days of the week are meaningless. they bleed into one another until they become impossible to know. on the bus in the mornings there's a very strong urge to miss my stop. i look at the backs of people's heads and imagine where they go. i wish i knew.
i want to keep going. i feel it in my stomach and my knees. i could disappear.
why don't i?
well, you can't just choose to break down. it's the sort of thing that happens naturally.
i got this little papercut at work. i shake the toner and listen to complaints. making copies gives me the chance to stare out the windows at people coming and going, and a blue sky at lunch time. and the sun shining on orange leaves down by the street. the file cabinets are spewing old papers and folders. they're piling up around me and burying me. just snippets of other people's lives on paper, sliding down on top of me. i don't know why these things are saved. i force conversations and push my words out like meager little turds. no one knows who i am.
maybe i should just go out with dan again. he's nice. he likes me, for whatever reason i don't know. maybe he's the kind of influence i need. he's nice. he could be good for me.
i'm a mess. my room, my life. me. me me me.
i think i deserve what i get.
i'll believe what i want to believe.
i will try.
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| i wonder when |
[26 Oct 2008|10:23am] |
it was a weird night, i guess.
it was jon and kelli's halloween party, i went as dusty springfield. my costume kind of sucked. this guy paul was there, i've met him before and i know he has a little thing for me. he's nice but not for me, for sure. i feel bad, i imagine that he's lonely. so am i, but not desperate. not yet, at least.
the party was loud and smokey and the ceiling was too low. i was drinking and sitting alone. i don't know why i get so antisocial. there's no good reason. it's not that i feel depressed, really. i just want to be invisible. i just want to eat the food and sit and look at people. and not have forced conversations about stuff that i'm not interested in. that's simple.
i left early, i took the bus home by myself. it was cold and blustery and i felt like everyone i saw had a purpose except for me. i saw a penny on the sidewalk near 47th street. i went back for it and saw that it was brand new and head's up. that's rare, so i took it.
later i settled into bed and the phone rang. he was drunk in a hotel room in olympia. he sounded like he might cry. he said he'd just broken down and gone away. i wish i could do that, but my strings are pulled too tight. he wanted to know things about me, but it's very hard.
anyway.
anyway.
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| my one true friend |
[22 Oct 2008|08:59pm] |
| [ |
music |
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"for the damaged" - blonde redhead |
] |
"if you could be anything you wanted, i bet you'd be disappointed."
maybe.
mom doesn't think that there's anything wrong with me. she just thinks that i need more than most people.
i was so rude today. so rude to everyone! even colleen. i couldn't hide it.
i can't stomach frail little old ladies, especially the kind who have to wear one giant shoe because one leg is shorter than the other. and the kind who get their hair done to see the dentist. and when i wheel them to their appointments, i can see right through the thinning wisps of hair to the dry liver spots on their scalps.
i can't stomach the refugees who all have the same birthday.
it's all too sad.
that's why.
i left early and hopped on a bus.
i saw the back of my head in a mirror and i hated my reflection.
maybe i hate myself.
i have to try to find happiness somewhere. you can't just plow forward fueled by misery. you'll break down that way. sometimes i wish i could just break down. but my strings are pulled very tightly, and i could never let go enough to allow that to happen.
god fucking damnit.
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| scuttled |
[21 Oct 2008|06:51am] |
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someone please come and rescue me.
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| patience |
[19 Oct 2008|06:54pm] |
| [ |
music |
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"worrywort" - radiohead |
] |
i'm alone in my room, i've only wanted to be alone all day. the heater is tapping, it sounds like raindrops. sunday's are like this. i wish i had a drink.
when i say that i have nothing to give, i think what i really mean is that i cannot open up.
it takes me hours to write something personal in an email. i agonize over whether i can really send this, or if i should just save it forever. i read it over and over and edit it and doubt myself. i see my words as profoundly personal, and it's almost unbearable to part with them. i can't stand revealing so much of myself, and the funny thing is that i've only typed a few vague sentences. but i feel like i'm showing my bones. it makes me feel lightheaded and very anxious. but this is all in my head. no one else sees the words this way. they wouldn't know the trouble i went through just to give them away. it's silly and sad.
sarah's been gone for just about a month. i miss her a lot. she puts happiness into my life, although this is not her job. she has patrice, and he has her, and they are meant to do this for one another. i'm just sort of a remainder. i ought to have an equation of my own. everyone thinks so, too.
i've been reading this book about the lost boys of sudan. it makes me feel guilty. not for being born into the life that i have. not for feeling depressed about things that seem inconsequential when compared to war and genocide. not necessarily for not doing enough to help people in need. i do feel very guilty about this, and even though i try to be generous and compassionate, i could always be much better. but this story specifically makes me feel guilty for being so wasteful. mostly the way i waste time. i'm so despondent and i don't have the energy to try to pull myself up. i'm the only one who is hurt by this, i only waste my own time. but it's a luxury that i have all of these chances and choices. so many people don't have the kind of opportunities that i take for granted. and i just sit and think about them.
what can i give to help anyone?
the struggles in my own life don't amount to a fraction of what they could be.
i'm a selfish person.
i think, life is not unfair. it is what it is.
but it is a hard world.
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