"fucking go cut yourself and write a song about it. im pissed."
that away message hit closer to home at the moment more than i would have liked it to. not that i'm mad at her or anything for posting it cuz obviously it wasn't about me, since she had no idea prior to this how i felt. it's just that gashing my self up and writing a fucking song would be god damn wonderful right now. few probs with that though:
1. creates a long ass lj post that is probably annoying to read cuz i'm gonna sit and bitch about my life.
2. defines(and eluminates) my neurosis more than i would ever like it to be. an example of this would be whether i'm glad my gf keeps me from cutting my self, or whether i'm pissed about it. cuz it's not a sincere quitting of the action. given it has been a few months since i've done it, i admitt i haven't finished my self destructive behaviors, ie. not caring about diabetes. when i didn't take care of it, it was like i was eating away at myself. and it was nice. i needed something to reck, and if it's something i own, my parents are gonna know what's up, which i didn't want. so just let my self "cut away" from the inside. saved money too. if i wasn't taking insulin, that means i didn't need to pay for more. it was almost the perfect corner to cut. it causes the physical afflictions that are brought with self destruction, but you don't notice it. or so i thought. till everyone started noticing how skinny i was getting. which i knew. didn't care. but i just blew it off as "i dunno" when someone would mention it. and then having my liscence revolked and having the doctor get all upset with me. yeah, that's what made me start taking care of my self. but not in the sincere way that it should've. only reason i take care now is so i can drive. i still don't give a shit about taking care of myself. if it wasn't for sarah, i'ld be pretty diced up. i prob wouldn't even be writing in here. this is why i am right now. i do want to cut, and i easily could do it, but i don't want another lecture and the disappointment of seeing scars again, cuz she would find out. there's obviously no where on me that she doesn't see, so no matter where i do it, she'll notice. and if it is a place she wouldn't see... yeah fuck that, i'm not that desparate. which i guess is a relief that i'm not like, shoving needles into my scrotum or something(like albert fish).
4. having my room right next to my parents with walls that easy to hear through kinda dampens the ability to write a song at 2:40 am. and i always just get really pissed off at songs i write while i'm pissed off or upset. cuz nothing ever seems right. i feel like i fail at music, cuz i want to capture the mood i'm in, but i can't. and it pisses me off that there's people out there who can, but i can't. it makes me feel like i'm inadequite at the one thing i've always felt like i knew what i was doing with. i dunno, i just wanna capture the perfect feeling, and i can't. i feel like it lal sounds like shit when i'm this down, so why play if it's gonna make me even more nuts. so i guess sitting here listening to pink floyd, imagining i wrote the songs, is going to have to do.
i sometimes wonder what happened to me. when did i fall into this fuckin hole. as much as i wish i could define my own life perfectly, i think sylvia plath hit it on the button when she said in the bell jar "... i realised i was never truely happy after i was nine." or something like that. don't feel like scrounging through the bell jar to find it. either way, it's an almost perfect deffinition. maybe not nine and from my dad dieing, but deffinately since 6th grade(11/12???) i've never felt quite right. and i dunno if it's just me, or if everyone feels like the abandoned child of happyness.
where did i go wrong also. i used to be able to handle this shit. i didn't need alcohol or other substances. i didn't need to endulge in self destruction. i used to be one stong, ethical bastard. now i'm just a bastard. a whole lot of liquor would do just as well as a sharp object. and i know i am wrong. i know i'm falling into a hole. and the sad thing is, i don't care. anyone who knows me has heard me say i have a alcohol problem. i know i do. given i don't drink as often as other people i know, i still abuse the shit, one way or another. but do i care? of course not. why, cuz i fail at life. i've become everything i hated. it's like, you know how most people say if they could go back in time to see the young version of themselves, they would kick the shit outta them for being so dumb, or something like that? well, it's the opposite for me. right now, my former self would kick the living piss outta me for ruinning his life even more by turning into a booz hound who can't solve his own problems the right way as opposed to the easy way. i dunno. maybe i just need the easy way for a lil while, to take a break. i mean, tons of people do it. but again, does that make it right. people who know me half way decent know i'm pretty big on believing my religion is the right one, but do i follow it. do i obey it. no. i fuck, i gamble, i drink, i "lie", i get pissed at god from time to time, don't pray, am horrible when it comes to ramadan, i smoke. i suck. and i admit this. so i know i'm doing shit wrong. but do i change. no. so what the fuck??? i mean, HOW FUCKING NUEROTIC CAN ONE HUMAN BEING BE!!!!! and people look up to me??? i don't get it sometimes. sure i can give good advise from time to time. but look at everything that's come out of me in the last hour or so. does it sound like i should be fixing people?? they say when trying to fix something broken, using a damaged tool will only make it worse, and sometimes, that saying is to true for comfort i feel like.
sometimes i wonder if i should just fuck things up more. i've always wondered what it'd be like in a mental institution. maybe they'd fix me once and for all. maybe they'd stomp out the termites eating away my foundation. maybe i'll see all the other nut jobs out in the world, and then compare. i could see if i'm really crazy like i sometimes feel like. or if i'm really just horribly normal.
i miss times like these...
http://cnn.netscape.cnn.com/ns/news/story.jsp?idq=/ff/story/0001/20050521/1130673075.htm
1. creates a long ass lj post that is probably annoying to read cuz i'm gonna sit and bitch about my life.
2. defines(and eluminates) my neurosis more than i would ever like it to be. an example of this would be whether i'm glad my gf keeps me from cutting my self, or whether i'm pissed about it. cuz it's not a sincere quitting of the action. given it has been a few months since i've done it, i admitt i haven't finished my self destructive behaviors, ie. not caring about diabetes. when i didn't take care of it, it was like i was eating away at myself. and it was nice. i needed something to reck, and if it's something i own, my parents are gonna know what's up, which i didn't want. so just let my self "cut away" from the inside. saved money too. if i wasn't taking insulin, that means i didn't need to pay for more. it was almost the perfect corner to cut. it causes the physical afflictions that are brought with self destruction, but you don't notice it. or so i thought. till everyone started noticing how skinny i was getting. which i knew. didn't care. but i just blew it off as "i dunno" when someone would mention it. and then having my liscence revolked and having the doctor get all upset with me. yeah, that's what made me start taking care of my self. but not in the sincere way that it should've. only reason i take care now is so i can drive. i still don't give a shit about taking care of myself. if it wasn't for sarah, i'ld be pretty diced up. i prob wouldn't even be writing in here. this is why i am right now. i do want to cut, and i easily could do it, but i don't want another lecture and the disappointment of seeing scars again, cuz she would find out. there's obviously no where on me that she doesn't see, so no matter where i do it, she'll notice. and if it is a place she wouldn't see... yeah fuck that, i'm not that desparate. which i guess is a relief that i'm not like, shoving needles into my scrotum or something(like albert fish).
4. having my room right next to my parents with walls that easy to hear through kinda dampens the ability to write a song at 2:40 am. and i always just get really pissed off at songs i write while i'm pissed off or upset. cuz nothing ever seems right. i feel like i fail at music, cuz i want to capture the mood i'm in, but i can't. and it pisses me off that there's people out there who can, but i can't. it makes me feel like i'm inadequite at the one thing i've always felt like i knew what i was doing with. i dunno, i just wanna capture the perfect feeling, and i can't. i feel like it lal sounds like shit when i'm this down, so why play if it's gonna make me even more nuts. so i guess sitting here listening to pink floyd, imagining i wrote the songs, is going to have to do.
i sometimes wonder what happened to me. when did i fall into this fuckin hole. as much as i wish i could define my own life perfectly, i think sylvia plath hit it on the button when she said in the bell jar "... i realised i was never truely happy after i was nine." or something like that. don't feel like scrounging through the bell jar to find it. either way, it's an almost perfect deffinition. maybe not nine and from my dad dieing, but deffinately since 6th grade(11/12???) i've never felt quite right. and i dunno if it's just me, or if everyone feels like the abandoned child of happyness.
where did i go wrong also. i used to be able to handle this shit. i didn't need alcohol or other substances. i didn't need to endulge in self destruction. i used to be one stong, ethical bastard. now i'm just a bastard. a whole lot of liquor would do just as well as a sharp object. and i know i am wrong. i know i'm falling into a hole. and the sad thing is, i don't care. anyone who knows me has heard me say i have a alcohol problem. i know i do. given i don't drink as often as other people i know, i still abuse the shit, one way or another. but do i care? of course not. why, cuz i fail at life. i've become everything i hated. it's like, you know how most people say if they could go back in time to see the young version of themselves, they would kick the shit outta them for being so dumb, or something like that? well, it's the opposite for me. right now, my former self would kick the living piss outta me for ruinning his life even more by turning into a booz hound who can't solve his own problems the right way as opposed to the easy way. i dunno. maybe i just need the easy way for a lil while, to take a break. i mean, tons of people do it. but again, does that make it right. people who know me half way decent know i'm pretty big on believing my religion is the right one, but do i follow it. do i obey it. no. i fuck, i gamble, i drink, i "lie", i get pissed at god from time to time, don't pray, am horrible when it comes to ramadan, i smoke. i suck. and i admit this. so i know i'm doing shit wrong. but do i change. no. so what the fuck??? i mean, HOW FUCKING NUEROTIC CAN ONE HUMAN BEING BE!!!!! and people look up to me??? i don't get it sometimes. sure i can give good advise from time to time. but look at everything that's come out of me in the last hour or so. does it sound like i should be fixing people?? they say when trying to fix something broken, using a damaged tool will only make it worse, and sometimes, that saying is to true for comfort i feel like.
sometimes i wonder if i should just fuck things up more. i've always wondered what it'd be like in a mental institution. maybe they'd fix me once and for all. maybe they'd stomp out the termites eating away my foundation. maybe i'll see all the other nut jobs out in the world, and then compare. i could see if i'm really crazy like i sometimes feel like. or if i'm really just horribly normal.
i miss times like these...
http://cnn.netscape.cnn.com/ns/news/story.jsp?idq=/ff/story/0001/20050521/1130673075.htm