My Flawed Sense Of Timing
...Why do I only come here when I feel really good or really bad? I don't know.
Probably because I don't have any friends to talk to.
I mean, I do. But... None that want to talk to me or that care about the drama that comes of knowing me, I guess.
Drugs don't help. I turned down a chance to get high because for the first time in the longest, I just wasn't feeling it. Don't feel like being silly and laughing at dumb things, don't even feel like nipping into the flask to dull the edge a bit.
Nor video games. I can usually get on like Halo or Starcraft and splat some aliens and at least feel a little better. No Halo coz no Xbox here and Starcraft only infuriated me because out of six games I sat through, no-one gave me anything near a challenge.
To be honest, though it's coz I played cruel. I usually don't use the 1337 tactics my brother taught me because it's unfair. But I did and it got me kicked out of the fun maps, at least for tonight anyway.
Not even my oldest friend, the written word, can help right now. I've always been able to escape into a good book and even Ender's Game makes me want to barf because it always taught me that you can prevail if you believe and try hard enough and all I wanted to read in it was the parts where he gets hurt and the parts where he hurts people.
Music helps... But I can't listen to it loud, which negates the calming effect for me. I can usually play some Judgement Night Soundtrack and thrash out till I'm tired buuuut not even any headphones to put in to crank it up.
I'm hoping writing will help but after some lyrics that just made me feel worse and a failed attempt at editing my sci-fi... I ended up here.
*sighs*
...And it was going to be such a good week, too. I can't believe I fucked it up so bad.
I had it all planned out... I was going to do it Saturday. Mom and Dad are going away for a family reunion. I was... I felt ready, y'know? I mean... The timing felt right. Things felt right. I'd have the house all to myself and no obligations or plans than... than making things right and being happy again and I don't want to talk about this anymore, diary, I feel so stupid and dumb and christ I'm crying again hold on
I think the cat saw me barfing. I threw shampoo bottle at her like some cruel crying barfing thing that didn't want to be stared at. But you don't care, do you? I can trust you because you're just a collection of digitally formatted electrons with no sense of hate or fear or cruelty or even love and I feel better knowing that you wouldn't care either way if I lived or died or dropped a platinum album or even that my sense of timing is flawed so tragically that effing Shakespeare could have wrote it.
I'd masturbate coz that usually helps but it makes me ill and I feel really unsexy and stuff. The last erection I had I was crying and then I barfed and I keep flashing back to that whenever I think of self-touchy.
But tomorrow I'm going to try to lose myself in work. If I get enough leads, I can beg off going to the effing family reunion by saying I need to do follow-ups on saturday, plus I have the jeep carbeurator sitting on the bench and the jeep taking up space in the shop. If I can't lose myself in a book or a video game or writing lyrics, I'll dump as much energy and time as I can into work and then come home and work out until I'm too exhausted to think or effing lay awake for hours with my guts twisting and my foot twitching to kick my own ass.
My aunt keeps bugging me to come work in Iraq with her. She must be lonely lol
I only considered it before for the mad bank fat sacks of cash, but now I have the added incentive of being halfway across the world while my life here does its inexorable unstoppable teeth-grindingly long slow spiral down the toilet.
And hey, when I got back I could buy a new life anyway. Or at least fund my creative ventures and drown myself in music and writing to offset the gnawing loneliness and remorse.
I could pick up some cool guns while I'm there, too. LOL fuck that I ain't bringing no shitty Iraqi guns home. I'll stick with the american ones I know and love.
I'll email her this weekend like I told mom I would, and either give her a good excuse to stop her bugging me or have her send me more info. I'm not sure yet and want more information if I'm really going to even consider it.
It's funny how I consistently just can't compete. I mean... I'm actually a catch once I clean up and keep my shit together but I'll be damned if I can figure out why I'm alone, or how in a matter of days all I built in the last two years can blow away just like that. Especially considering what I was planning but yeah *winces*
Yes there's a foundation and I believe it's strong. But what's the point of building a house on it to live alone in? Imagine having your new house burn down a few times and then the last time you rebuild it someone drives a truck through the fucker just as you finish installing the doorbell and drop their mobile home in your yard. How willing would you be to pick up the hammer and nails and go back at it? lol that's how it feels right now.
anyway, it's like 5 in the morning now and I should lay down some more and try to sleep if I want to get anything done this morning. I'll be back soon, though. I know I'll have more writing to do before the week is out.
I don't care if I nightmare some more. I could use the fight and sleep>sitting here staring at the screen and posting stupid dumb smiley faces on the G-board.
something's coming and I can feel it. It's scary because I've just had my legs kicked out from under me and am so not ready for anything big, good or bad, but I'll tell you about it when it happens.
You listen up good, e-diary journal thingy.
...but then again, you'd still listen if I told you to sodomize your own mother. It'd be nice to talk to someone real but present circumstances and all you'll have to do.
Probably because I don't have any friends to talk to.
I mean, I do. But... None that want to talk to me or that care about the drama that comes of knowing me, I guess.
Drugs don't help. I turned down a chance to get high because for the first time in the longest, I just wasn't feeling it. Don't feel like being silly and laughing at dumb things, don't even feel like nipping into the flask to dull the edge a bit.
Nor video games. I can usually get on like Halo or Starcraft and splat some aliens and at least feel a little better. No Halo coz no Xbox here and Starcraft only infuriated me because out of six games I sat through, no-one gave me anything near a challenge.
To be honest, though it's coz I played cruel. I usually don't use the 1337 tactics my brother taught me because it's unfair. But I did and it got me kicked out of the fun maps, at least for tonight anyway.
Not even my oldest friend, the written word, can help right now. I've always been able to escape into a good book and even Ender's Game makes me want to barf because it always taught me that you can prevail if you believe and try hard enough and all I wanted to read in it was the parts where he gets hurt and the parts where he hurts people.
Music helps... But I can't listen to it loud, which negates the calming effect for me. I can usually play some Judgement Night Soundtrack and thrash out till I'm tired buuuut not even any headphones to put in to crank it up.
I'm hoping writing will help but after some lyrics that just made me feel worse and a failed attempt at editing my sci-fi... I ended up here.
*sighs*
...And it was going to be such a good week, too. I can't believe I fucked it up so bad.
I had it all planned out... I was going to do it Saturday. Mom and Dad are going away for a family reunion. I was... I felt ready, y'know? I mean... The timing felt right. Things felt right. I'd have the house all to myself and no obligations or plans than... than making things right and being happy again and I don't want to talk about this anymore, diary, I feel so stupid and dumb and christ I'm crying again hold on
I think the cat saw me barfing. I threw shampoo bottle at her like some cruel crying barfing thing that didn't want to be stared at. But you don't care, do you? I can trust you because you're just a collection of digitally formatted electrons with no sense of hate or fear or cruelty or even love and I feel better knowing that you wouldn't care either way if I lived or died or dropped a platinum album or even that my sense of timing is flawed so tragically that effing Shakespeare could have wrote it.
I'd masturbate coz that usually helps but it makes me ill and I feel really unsexy and stuff. The last erection I had I was crying and then I barfed and I keep flashing back to that whenever I think of self-touchy.
But tomorrow I'm going to try to lose myself in work. If I get enough leads, I can beg off going to the effing family reunion by saying I need to do follow-ups on saturday, plus I have the jeep carbeurator sitting on the bench and the jeep taking up space in the shop. If I can't lose myself in a book or a video game or writing lyrics, I'll dump as much energy and time as I can into work and then come home and work out until I'm too exhausted to think or effing lay awake for hours with my guts twisting and my foot twitching to kick my own ass.
My aunt keeps bugging me to come work in Iraq with her. She must be lonely lol
I only considered it before for the mad bank fat sacks of cash, but now I have the added incentive of being halfway across the world while my life here does its inexorable unstoppable teeth-grindingly long slow spiral down the toilet.
And hey, when I got back I could buy a new life anyway. Or at least fund my creative ventures and drown myself in music and writing to offset the gnawing loneliness and remorse.
I could pick up some cool guns while I'm there, too. LOL fuck that I ain't bringing no shitty Iraqi guns home. I'll stick with the american ones I know and love.
I'll email her this weekend like I told mom I would, and either give her a good excuse to stop her bugging me or have her send me more info. I'm not sure yet and want more information if I'm really going to even consider it.
It's funny how I consistently just can't compete. I mean... I'm actually a catch once I clean up and keep my shit together but I'll be damned if I can figure out why I'm alone, or how in a matter of days all I built in the last two years can blow away just like that. Especially considering what I was planning but yeah *winces*
Yes there's a foundation and I believe it's strong. But what's the point of building a house on it to live alone in? Imagine having your new house burn down a few times and then the last time you rebuild it someone drives a truck through the fucker just as you finish installing the doorbell and drop their mobile home in your yard. How willing would you be to pick up the hammer and nails and go back at it? lol that's how it feels right now.
anyway, it's like 5 in the morning now and I should lay down some more and try to sleep if I want to get anything done this morning. I'll be back soon, though. I know I'll have more writing to do before the week is out.
I don't care if I nightmare some more. I could use the fight and sleep>sitting here staring at the screen and posting stupid dumb smiley faces on the G-board.
something's coming and I can feel it. It's scary because I've just had my legs kicked out from under me and am so not ready for anything big, good or bad, but I'll tell you about it when it happens.
You listen up good, e-diary journal thingy.
...but then again, you'd still listen if I told you to sodomize your own mother. It'd be nice to talk to someone real but present circumstances and all you'll have to do.