i can’t stop crying tonight and i don’t know what the hell writing would do but what else is there? i cried for a while in the safe place. aeron held me. but nothing fills the void. i want my mommie. i know calling her would do no good; i know that i can’t get what i need from her. but i want a mommie so so so bad. i don’t know what is wrong with me. i feel so ashamed. i want to recant and beg for forgiveness, but i can’t lie and anyway i know now that i could never get that from my mother. i am so filled with shame. so many people get by without having closeness to their parents. so many people can be fucking grown ups about it. aeron doesn’t have a good relationship with their parents, but they don’t complain.
Continue reading ‘i just want to be loved…’
Archive for May, 2004
it’s a morning. another one of those. i’m cramped with regret about school, and all that is lost. i got a couple of emails from my best friends in elementary school – er, my only friends. (except for cat!) it is so hard to figure out what to say to them. they found my website, so they can read all about all the wonderful ways i’ve failed. i am sick of being pitied. i am sick of having to make excuses. i want to be strong and good and have a job and live up to my potential. i am so fucking over being depressed. i just wish i could drive it home somehow. i want to graduate and get a job in computers. (i have an appointment with the department of rehab, so we’ll see how that goes. it would be so cool if they could pay for a distance education.)
Continue reading ‘oh, how long have you been sitting in the darkness’
can i give up yet?
late night melancholy. the usual. i’m not going to bed tonight. i just won’t put myself through that. i can’t stand the hours of waiting to fall asleep and the restless dreams and occasional nightmares and the fucking bed is a dark pit of prison, don’t you ever get that way? if you have insomnia and you’re trying to sleep for hours, the bed feels like one of the pits of hell. amazing how little can be torture.
i’m sick to my stomach from eating nothing but almonds all day. we’re fucking addicted to pulling the skins of them off with our teeth. wish we had someone else to eat the nut, we just want the skin. (the spitty, slightly bitten nut… eww.)
Continue reading ‘and your hands are really shaking something awful’
i want to scream throw hit things i am scared i want to go away i want everyone to go away i don’t want to hear or feel or be. she hates me everyone hates me i don’t have enough money. i don’t know what is wrong with us. there’s no room. can’t see, blurry, my eyes fog over and i don’t know why or what is wrong with me and i know i should go to bed but i am just so sick of being alive filled with regret about all the money i spent onf final fantasy when it seems that i just don’t want to play anymore. i don’t know what’s wrong with me that i can’t settle into one game it’s like i have add for games i just am so stupid always need to have something new new new. wish i could just for once get good at something put all my time into it
Continue reading ‘babble babble’
heavy and lost, fear rising bile. today has been a race with myself trying to be ok. so depressed, and jayla called about the money we owe her, since it has been determined once and for all that the insurance won’t pay. somehow it hurts for it to be driven home so much that it’s only about money, really, that of course she’s not my friend. she wants me to pay for another session for “closure” too. and i just don’t have enough money. i am sending her a check on monday, and i worry about being able to pay the bills after i send it. everything is just so fucked. and on top of the $100 i’m sending her, i have to owe her another $450. it just makes me want to give up. i just can’t… anymore…
Continue reading ‘heavy, lost’
that image yesterday was supposed to be the place on the island where claire and elizabeth live. it’s a dance studio underneath, glassed-in-like, and claire’s apartment/room up top. so, i was so upset that this morning i decided to allow myself 64×64 pixels, and viola! the same thing, but better.
i have a sudden bout of some kind of energy, this evening. not real energy, not moving-around-being-good type of stuff. although maybe. who knows. i SHOULD go to bed because i’m trying to get up by 9am most days, and you know, i’m new to this sleeping-in thing. it’s a hard habit to beat.
it started when i finally decided i suck and so i answered a few emails. one thing led to another, and i ended up spending all this time emailing a person about a web-based mmorpg they have, wanting to know if they wanted help, and then i started idly redesigning their site for them, locally of course. they might end up giving me code so i can make a cute silly game like that, which might be cute. or maybe i could do it myself. i don’t know. the world is filled with possibilities.
Continue reading ‘as foretold by nostradamus’
it’s tiring to be a person. it’s tiring to interact. it’s hard to be awake, and alive. i give up on me. it’s just chronic depression, it never really changes. whether or not anything else is wrong… i’ll never be balanced, brain chemistry, just so pathetic. hate comparing myself to other people.
sometimes i write really short entries, and save them as draft, don’t let them enter the Real Journal. because i think i owe the world some kind of essay, or what? must have a thesis, must have something i’m working towards with my words. but i’m not. i’m just piddling around. some journals can have entries that say nothing, that post some dumb quiz results from yet another product of quizilla, and some journals win awards for their consistently stellar writing. but i’m sadder than either, because i don’t have freedom or quality.
Continue reading ‘how long have i got to say’
i think i’m doing tolerably okay, sort of, maybe. we went to the mall and bought monster rancher 4 – yay! it’s pretty fun. i have some pretty cute little monsters. and having a game is really nice, it really improves our ability to be okay. if only i were rich, and could buy all the games i wanted.
