(no subject)
LJ is dying, which is kind of sad. I still check my friends page semi-regularly, but its incredible how much the volume of posts has decreased over the past year or two. I guess the rise of Facebook/Twitter/Tumblr etc have really wiped it out.
It kind of makes me want to delete my LJ... erase the evidence of a past life, haha. I mean, who all on my friends list even signs on any more? And I've never used the handle "kittykrazy" anywhere else, so no one who was looking for me would be able to find it (and some of my friends have tried, ha). But in skimming back through past entries... idk, I'm just uncomfortable with evidence of who I used to be still existing. Everyone changes as we grow older, goes through some sort of dramatic shift in their life or in how they present themselves. And there are some elements that have stayed the same, sure, but if I had tried to tell me at 14, when I first created this, about who I am now.. hahaha I never would have believed it.
God, the only reason I really would be keeping this is for myself, as a sort of archive of past angst or some shit. How narcissistic is that? Well, we're all self-obsessed in our own ways I suppose. Hah, present someone with Google Earth and they can literally look at almost ANYWHERE on the planet, visit ANY foreign place, and I would bet that at least 95% of people would immediately just try to find their own house. We are all so obsessed with creating an image and wondering "how I look to other people" that we don't spend any time looking at other people. Everyone's too busy looking at themselves and screaming about their own importance. Even those people who feel invisible, who say they live their lives looking at others, like the fly on the wall. I've been that person, and still feel that way a lot sometimes. But in doing that you are looking at yourself, stating no one notices ME.
ME. ME. Every fucking thing is about ME.
In feeling neglected, isn't that inherently selfish? Because its supposing that people owe you something, some sort of affection or attention? Fuck, why am I even writing this? Because I have the intent to share it? Am I censoring in the off chance that I'll fucking put it on Tumblr or some shit? IS THIS CATHARSIS OR A BEG FOR ATTENTION. IF I AM BEING HONEST WITH MYSELF I HAVE NO IDEA. "Hmm let's see what the masses have to say; wait they don't give a fucking shit." "Look at meeee, I'm brooooding and have prooooblems and fuck, don't you pity me?"
.....well, this went downhill fast.
I haven't journalled in about a year. I want to think its positive, because in the past I journal most when I'm depressed. But I know that I haven't journalled for the wrong reasons; too fucked up to even know what to write about, too scared to try to unearth anything. This past year has taken me to some of the darkest places I have been in my life. But I can't analyze anything in the same way that I used to because I am barely making it day by day as it is. I've had to become so much more surface level oriented, performing shallow interactions, simplifying things. Because I guess I'm afraid that if I start writing I won't be able to stop. And it will bring back the same questions that I always ask, but that I can't ask myself right now because I can't handle them.
In a place where I confront things in a way that I don't actually deal with them. I step away and talk about it with people but I'm so removed that I have a hard time even remembering who I tell what about ANYTHING because I don't fucking CARE. But I do care, but I care too much so I can't actually do anything about it.
Fuck fuck fuck finals always does this to me.
I feel like every quarter I push the boundaries of failure even further. Test my limits, ask, "what else can I get away with? How much can I NOT do?" I step closer and closer to that metaphorical edge of failure, something I've peeked over before but always known that I had a safety net, or that I would jump back at the last minute. Because I've never - ACTUALLY - failed something big before. But as I keep lowering the bar, the edge just keeps getting closer, and feeling more real. Terror, then muted.
Fuck I have literally six essays to write in the next 9 hours.
angstangstangstangst
lol I'll just share more GIFs, that will solve EVERYONE'S PROBLEMS.
It kind of makes me want to delete my LJ... erase the evidence of a past life, haha. I mean, who all on my friends list even signs on any more? And I've never used the handle "kittykrazy" anywhere else, so no one who was looking for me would be able to find it (and some of my friends have tried, ha). But in skimming back through past entries... idk, I'm just uncomfortable with evidence of who I used to be still existing. Everyone changes as we grow older, goes through some sort of dramatic shift in their life or in how they present themselves. And there are some elements that have stayed the same, sure, but if I had tried to tell me at 14, when I first created this, about who I am now.. hahaha I never would have believed it.
God, the only reason I really would be keeping this is for myself, as a sort of archive of past angst or some shit. How narcissistic is that? Well, we're all self-obsessed in our own ways I suppose. Hah, present someone with Google Earth and they can literally look at almost ANYWHERE on the planet, visit ANY foreign place, and I would bet that at least 95% of people would immediately just try to find their own house. We are all so obsessed with creating an image and wondering "how I look to other people" that we don't spend any time looking at other people. Everyone's too busy looking at themselves and screaming about their own importance. Even those people who feel invisible, who say they live their lives looking at others, like the fly on the wall. I've been that person, and still feel that way a lot sometimes. But in doing that you are looking at yourself, stating no one notices ME.
ME. ME. Every fucking thing is about ME.
In feeling neglected, isn't that inherently selfish? Because its supposing that people owe you something, some sort of affection or attention? Fuck, why am I even writing this? Because I have the intent to share it? Am I censoring in the off chance that I'll fucking put it on Tumblr or some shit? IS THIS CATHARSIS OR A BEG FOR ATTENTION. IF I AM BEING HONEST WITH MYSELF I HAVE NO IDEA. "Hmm let's see what the masses have to say; wait they don't give a fucking shit." "Look at meeee, I'm brooooding and have prooooblems and fuck, don't you pity me?"
.....well, this went downhill fast.
I haven't journalled in about a year. I want to think its positive, because in the past I journal most when I'm depressed. But I know that I haven't journalled for the wrong reasons; too fucked up to even know what to write about, too scared to try to unearth anything. This past year has taken me to some of the darkest places I have been in my life. But I can't analyze anything in the same way that I used to because I am barely making it day by day as it is. I've had to become so much more surface level oriented, performing shallow interactions, simplifying things. Because I guess I'm afraid that if I start writing I won't be able to stop. And it will bring back the same questions that I always ask, but that I can't ask myself right now because I can't handle them.
In a place where I confront things in a way that I don't actually deal with them. I step away and talk about it with people but I'm so removed that I have a hard time even remembering who I tell what about ANYTHING because I don't fucking CARE. But I do care, but I care too much so I can't actually do anything about it.
Fuck fuck fuck finals always does this to me.
I feel like every quarter I push the boundaries of failure even further. Test my limits, ask, "what else can I get away with? How much can I NOT do?" I step closer and closer to that metaphorical edge of failure, something I've peeked over before but always known that I had a safety net, or that I would jump back at the last minute. Because I've never - ACTUALLY - failed something big before. But as I keep lowering the bar, the edge just keeps getting closer, and feeling more real. Terror, then muted.
Fuck I have literally six essays to write in the next 9 hours.
angstangstangstangst
lol I'll just share more GIFs, that will solve EVERYONE'S PROBLEMS.