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I wish I had three bottles of vodka, a bottle of canadian club, and some everclear. I'd drink it all and fall asleep. I love how the inside of your temples feel like pinwheels twirling when you're drunk and you can't see things clearly. It's all fuzzy tinted like a hazed opium room, everything is a shadow, but nothing is substantially real. That's how I want to feel.
I'm in this fucking mood that I hate being in. I hate everyone. If I had the chance, I'd kill myself and everyone I know. No, not really, because in that order, I'd be dead first.
It just really fucking pisses me off that everyone is relatively the same. Full of insincerity, this plasticene fucking lifestyle. How many people have told me they love me? Almost every fucking one I've ever met. Most of them don't mean it. Fuck, the majority of them probably don't mean it. I'm just everyone's something. I'm here to listen. I'm here to talk. I'm here to entertain. I'm here when you need someone to not eat with you. I'm here when you need someone to drink with because you're lonely and depressed. I'm here when you need a good fuck. But what about afterwards? What about when they don't need that anymore? It's like I dissappear.
I am nothing but words and memories and desires. I'm so god-damned sick of giving in to constant self-sacrifice and never once being treated like I'm capable of feeling. What the fuck do you people want from me?! Do you want me to kill myself? I'm almost there. I want to find a canyon in Norway and hide under drifts of snow. I want to freeze to death from the world. I want to be found in a few centuries, this amazing ice woman, and then I'll mean something. They'll cut me open, dissect me, find a way to look into the primitive human's lifestyle.
But like everything is now, they'll never know, what they'll never see in my decomposed, frozen skull, is that I'm laced with this pain. That I am another human condition. It may never occur to them that I was completely fucking typical, and full of hysteria and tears. But I'll still somehow mean something. They'll display me and call me the greatest scientific find of the century.
But that's how it is now, isn't it? I'm displayed and smiling. Frozen into my expectations. So, even when I do die, it won't be so much different. That doesn't give me much to look foward to.
I want to have sex until I'm numb. Until I cannot feel my insides anymore. Maybe then, I can be numb all over.
I thought I'd be happy. I thought I'd feel loved. Now everyone just thinks I'm crazy. I'm just bipolar...it's their expectations that make me insane.
Ashley is gone. She tried to kill herself...again. She was almost successful...again. I'm glad someone saved her, I guess. It just hurts to know that she hurts that much. But in a way...don't we all?
I'd kill myself too, if I knew I wouldn't be letting anyone down. But I'm too busy right now. My life should be wonderful. I have the lead part in the play...friends....I'm an officer for random clubs...top 5% of my class...I have scholarship inteviews, I'm passing all of my classes wonderfully.
But I don't want that. I want something that keeps being taken away from me. I want human affection and deep, embedded human love.
I love my mother, but she always left me when I was little. I remember clinging to her legs, going into a state of hyperventilation, but she would never stay. She liked to gamble. They left me at home alone when I was four...six. Everyone I have ever loved has left me much the same way.
They just walk away. They never want to talk about it. They never want to discuss or feel or let me in on what they're doing. They're just gone one day.
Like Chris. Nathan. All of my friends...they fade in and out. Bryan. Him mostly.
I think I have deep-seeded neglect issues, and being overwhelmed in my life right now is what has triggered my recent "episodes". I'm working through it, though. As long as nothing goes too wrong, I think I can regain my sanity. I've resolved to be okay. And I will.
Enough, it's time to go watch Angelina Jolie and join the rest of my fine folk.
Bon soiree, mes amis.
The Addict by Anne Sexton
Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.
I'm the queen of this condition.
I'm an expert on making the trip
and now they say I'm an addict.
Now they ask why.
WHY!
Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour balls.
I'm on a diet from death.
Yes, I admit
it has gotten to be a bit of a habit-
blows eight at a time, socked in the eye,
hauled away by the pink, the orange,
the green and the white goodnights.
I'm becoming something of a chemical
mixture.
that's it!
My supply
of tablets
has got to last for years and years.
I like them more than I like me.
It's a kind of marriage.
It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside
of myself.
Yes
I try
to kill myself in small amounts,
an innocuous occupatin.
Actually I'm hung up on it.
But remember I don't make too much noise.
And frankly no one has to lug me out
and I don't stand there in my winding sheet.
I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie
eating my eight loaves in a row
and in a certain order as in
the laying on of hands
or the black sacrament.
It's a ceremony
but like any other sport
it's full of rules.
It's like a musical tennis match where
my mouth keeps catching the ball.
Then I lie on; my altar
elevated by the eight chemical kisses.
What a lay me down this is
with two pink, two orange,
two green, two white goodnights.
Fee-fi-fo-fum-
Now I'm borrowed.
Now I'm numb.
::end::
XVII (I do not love you...)
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
::end::
I want to write about everything beautiful. About this wasted summer, that was so wonderful, that made my life something wondrous. But I can't.
Every time I think I'm okay, that my broken emotions have embedded themselves as deep as they will...that scar tissue has healed around them..that I'm alright...I'm not. I try to think of the happiness of everything, and I only succeed in digging out the pain. I don't want to forget everything beautiful, but I have no choice.
I want to be okay.
Life is too marvelous to have an inbalance of pain and drudgery. But I am not immune.
"I Do Not Want This" Nine Inch Nails
i'm losing ground
you know how this world can beat you down
i'm made of clay
i fear i'm the only one who thinks this way
i'm always falling down the same hill
bamboo puncturing this skin
and nothing comes bleeding out of me just like a waterfall i'm drowning in
two feet below the surface i can still make out your wavy face
and if i could just reach you maybe i could leave this place
i do not want this
don't you tell me how i feel
you don't know just how i feel
i stay inside my bed
i have lived so many lives all in my head
don't tell me that you care
there really isn't anything, is there?
you would know, wouldn't you?
you extend your hand to those who suffer
to those who know what it really feels like
to those who've had a taste
like that means something
and oh so sick i am
and maybe i don't have a choice
and maybe that is all i have
and maybe this is a cry for help
i do not want this
don't you tell me how i feel
you don't know just how i feel
i want to know everything
i want to be everywhere
i want to fuck everyone in the world
i want to do something that matters
Recently, the overwhelming anxiety of everything happening has given me a new condition. Chronic fatigue. However, it has come in the most wonderful of disguises. It is now my cure. The distraction of being overwhelmed is healing me. The more I have to do, the more stressed and anxious I am, the more I open up, the more I forget what hurts. One pain to cure another. How beautiful.
I don't think people realize that when the lose me, even if it is in just one aspect, they lose me forever. I can't help it. I don't mean to be this way, but my mindset prevents me from ever going back. Once I come to peace with my new scars, I can never find the fragments that are missing to put them back in place to start it over again. I'm sorry. I'll always be here for you, though. I promise you that. I'll always be loyal to you too. Always, no matter what.
With much love, Veronica.
I can't believe it...I thought it'd go away. I thought I'd be okay eventually. I thought it would be alright by now. I've been crying for three days. Three days straight. I've never not been able to handle something. Never.
I've always found a way to pick up myself and find a way to duct tape or glue it all together....but not anymore. There are just too many shards this time...not even complete pieces, I guess. I can't take it. I've never not been able to not take something. I can always handle my pain. I can always find a way to control my emotions and mind. Not this time. I'm fucking crazy. I can't stop crying. I can't focus on anything. Drinking doesn't even help. Nothing does. I can't eat, sleep, I can't even be distracted. What has happened to me?
I really cannot handle something. My mind is no longer mine......What have you done to me? I'm going to end up dying because of this. I really cannot hold on much longer. I'm so fucking unstable. I cannot accept this pain. I cannot take this stress. All at once, building on me. I'm a fucking lunatic now. Lock me away. I can't be alone. I need you. Yes, that's right, I NEED you. I've never actually needed another person entirely like this.
Isn't there another way? Do I have to feel like this? Can't it just be fixed? God damnit!!!!! Do you have to do this? I'm going to crack apart, anytime, I don't know when...but I can feel it. This is finally too much for me. What can I do?
Why? Can I just find a way to hate you?
Veronica is broken again. I wonder how long this will keep up. I feel so dead inside, like there isn't anything left of me. I know I have emotions, because I cry all the time, but I can only feel the tears stinging my face...my inner workings are numb, and don't know where the tears come from.
He was so beautiful. Another beautiful one. But the one who made me feel beautiful, for once. I can't take this headache from this crying, or lack thereof. Dry tears, hidden tears, are just as bad as wet ones. He had to leave. Of course he did. This is pain is worse, though, because I knew this would happen...and I let myself get attached anyway. I understand completely why this is happening, and I know there is nothing to do to stop it, and that it probably actually is the best thing. Knowing this just makes it that much worse...that much more painful.
I'm so selfish, though. I want to keep him....I'm just so sick of being lonely and exhausted. I'm sick of headaches and sleeping alone at night. I'm sick of being broken and dead on the inside. God dammit, why won't this just end? Can I just not be happy?! I think I'm finally incapable of becoming attached anymore. I'm too fucking gone and empty. I'm just a drunk now. I wake up drunk, attend class drunk, go home drunk, sleep drunk. It's much better this way. Tequila Sunrise for breakfast, Brandy for lunch, a few snacks of screw drivers, and merlot for dinner. Yay. Isn't life just so god damned grand?
I just want to disappear into a lost world, somewhere in the backwoods of Norway, where only winter birds and deer live. I want to be alone for the rest of my life, and never see anyone again. Ever. I just wish people would go away. I want Nevil Shute's world to come to life.
But I've learnt my lesson...again...and again...and again. I can have no care for people, it is entirely useless to become attached, and there is no reason or grounds to trust anyone.Above all, though, NEVER find yourself in love. That is the worst of everything. No matter the intentions of people, they will always hurt you. It never fails. I've tried for so long to be optimistic. I've kept trying. I thought there might be hope somewhere. And god dammit, I thought I had something there. But who were we to think it could actually last? What the fuck was I thinking to think it could exist? It was juvenile stupidity really.
I have given up. What is life anyway? Is it really that much different than death? No, I'm not suicidal, but when there is nothing to live for, neither one matter. If you were to kill me, I'd be just as happy as if I were alive and drunk. No difference. Yay, I can go to school, get degrees, get a job, and die. Fuck the family part, that would involve too many people...and that dastardly love shit. What is there to live for? It's all routine, standard, and lifeless. I want to be nowhere. I want to have never existed. I don't even want another relationship. I don't want another person. I don't want anything but to not be here, in this world, with these fucking people that I can only hate. Yes I'm bitter, and yes I'm cynical, but it's all these god damned bastards that have made me this way. I tried so hard not to be, I did. But now I'm emotionally dead, gone, ash, and it doesn't matter. Nothing in this matters. I'm just a silly, selfish girl who still believed in something. Fuck that.
Even if I cannot rid myself of the love that I have, I can prevent it from happening again. I can hide it, conceal it, paint my heart grey. It doesn' t have to surface again. I can be a hummingbird, lying dead in a cage coffin. I knew it would come down to this. Everything is over. There really is nothing left, and I surrender. Take me, and if you don't, at least let me live in my drunken stupor of denial.
Goo Goo Dolls, Hate This Place:
Gone away
Who knows where you been
You take all your lies
And wish them all away
I somehow doubt
We'll ever be the same
There's too much poison
And confusion on your face
Can you feel it
I didn't mean it
Can I see you
What are we doin'
I think I love you
but I ain't sayin' nothin' you don't know
Hold on dreamaway
You're my sweet charade
Take your time
Move yourself to me
Yeah I can take your lies
Until you fall away
You know I'm lost
Hiding in your bed
No I don't think it's wrong
It's just gone to my head
Can you feel it
I didn't mean it
Can I see you
What are we doin'
I think I love you
but I ain't sayin' nothin' you don't know
Hold on dreamaway
You're my sweet charade
Hey whatchya do to me
Would you come back to me
Yeah I can't do another day
I'm not certain of it anyway
I ain't messin' with another life
Can I get along without you
Tell me lies
That you know I need
Hold on dreamaway
You're my sweet charade
Hold on dreamaway
You're my sweet charade
Hold on dreamaway
Hold on dreamaway
The air felt beautiful today. Like the closing scene of American Beauty, or something. It didn't smell like pain, or human conditions. It just simply felt beautiful. I realized this as I was walking home from my mother's office. It was a nice walk, full of sunshine and aesthetic detail. I enjoyed it, for once.
The night before last, I decided to start designing clothes again. I'm going to put my clothing line back up, and maybe actually keep making my beautiful imagery. I blame the sudden inspiration on Francesca Lia Block. It's been so long since I've read something so young. I love her writing. She reminds me of a womanly, soft, Henry Miller....making everything sound beautiful. Making the corrupt and painful into a fantasy wonderworld of discovery. Beautiful.
My cat is still gone. I keep having dreams about him, it's very strange. School starts in less than a week. Bah. I'm a bit excited, I suppose, I won't have to sit at home, avoiding everyone, and reading all day. Oh, it's terribly exciting, but I'm going to CoCoa beach on Sunday. I'm hoping to catch Warped Tour in Jacksonville on my way there. Maybe I won't end up drunk and at a crazy punk party, such as sometimes happens. I think I enjoy sobriety and knowing who I'm waking up next to. Anyway, enough rambling. I don't actually have anything significant to say, and if I did, I don't think I'd say it anyway.
Te Amo!
It hasn't been so long. My cat disappared. I woke up to a small black kitten meowing in my face. Strange how things happen. He disappared too. I don't know where he went.
I'm so tired of being the person everyone wants when it's convenient. Yes, I'll always be here, but that doesn't mean you can use me for your own personal pleasure. I feel so background. Static on an empty television, left alone at midnight.
I wrote last night. It was the first time I'd written anything in a while. I actually wanted to paint, but I was out of canvas, so I was forced to write. It felt good. Like I'd been numb for a while, but suddenly all the feeling rushed back into me.
I still feel lonely and used. Where does everyone go?
I'm sorry. You really don't deserve the verbal abuse you are given. I could see the pain in your eyes, and all I wanted to do was to hold you and make it better....but there is no making it better. The wounds are set and scarred. There can be no forgiveness...I know. But you should know that I know the pain...that I realize the torture of it. You must feel worthless and then even less...Know that you aren't. You are beautiful and wonderful, brilliant and inspiring. You are one of the strongest people I know. You try so hard...don't let the bleak bitterness of words decay you...don't let them dampen your soul. I'm sorry....I'm so sorry.
But then...I was never dependable anyway.
I'm torn into hundreds of pieces...everyone needs me. I give my entire self to all of them. But I can't keep doing this....I can't keep ripping myself into smaller pieces and smaller pieces, there will be nothing left of me. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard. Forgive me that I am not enough, but I'm not. All of my sacrifices have drained me. I do not have enough energy to go on....or to give anymore of me away...I'm sorry. I just need to rest...
I'm so exhausted.
I think love is the best killer. A subtle murderer. Strontium instead of calcium. A painful death before you know what hit you. Yes...it is.
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