Thursday, June 19, 2014


Talk to me dammit. Ask me things, give me an opening to share my thoughts because I'm not going to do it on my own. I'm quiet because I feel like the world either can't handle what's in my head or will judge me so harshly for it and I need SOMEONE to tell me that's not true. I need to either confirm or disprove that I'm like everyone else, that my thoughts aren't some alien philosophical world or a black pit of depression any more than anyone else's. Someone fucking talk to me for god's sake. I can't just start the conversation. I 'm begging you, just fucking say something. Anyone. Say something to me. And aside from giving me an outlet for my own insanity, share with me you mind. Tell me what's behind those intense eyes that you dart away whenever I meet your gaze. Share your soul with me. I promise I won't judge. I just want to know. And I want someone to know me.

Sunday, June 15, 2014


There's a foreign entity living, breeding, growing in my throat, entirely painless except I can't swallow right but utterly terrifying nonetheless. To think about all the millions of bacteria and parasites and bugs I come in contact with every day makes my skin crawl and to know there's a whole visible colony of them living on my swollen tonsils makes me want to rip them right out of my throat. I told Josh of my predicament, glad he's not sick too, then I stupidly asked hi over again. he must be getting sick of me by now, I'm too clingy again. I can't see how he'd want to be around me, how anyone would want to be around me. I do nothing but sit around and mope, I don't live up to my potential. I could be so, so much more but I'm not. Although sometimes the greatest people were never actually recognized in their lifetimes but I'm not going to be one of those people. I still think about dying simply because I'm a waste of space, I don't know what to so with my life so I choose to do nothing at all or to do things that don't matter but am I really choosing? Is there really anything to suggest we have a real choice in anything in our lives? Our brains just make us think that we do, scientifically the only logical explanation is that everything is predetermined whether you look rom a quantum physics perspective or  newtonian perspective or philosophical perspective but I can't accept it. I should read up on arguments for the opposite, arguments for choice. Or come up with my own, use my damn brain for once. I'm so impressionable, not a single original bone in my body nor thought in my head. Nothing. I'm an empty vessel, waiting to be filled perhaps but could I be more cliche? See what I mean? Nothing original. Nothing at all. My mind is always racing but still empty, empty of any true belief or conviction or idea. Nothing in there is ME, I don't even know what that is. Who am I? Again, cliche. There we have it, I'm a walking cliche. Although to be fair things are cliche for a reason. I wonder if as I'm writing these I intentionally focus on my negative thoughts because it sounds more artistic, the broken girl. Damn sitting on the floor makes me sore. Also I love my handwriting even if it's extremely hard to make out when I'm moving fast trying to keep up with my brain. I should take notes like this in school and then type them up immediately after. It would help solidify the material in my mind. I really need to make a better study plan and habits for next semester with all my hard classes. Not that I'll stick to it anyway, I'll probably end up wallowing on the floor a depressed mess like last semester unless possibly the herbs start working. Who knows. They might work better if I knew the supposed theories behind it. Maybe I wouldn't understand but I still strive to know. I have no thoughts of my own so I have an insatiable need to fill my head with the thoughts of others. I should try and focus on what is my own. These thoughts now I suppose, some of them at least. My opinions on others' thoughts are my own. Or are they? Even things most people wold assume came entirely from within themselves are forever influenced by the outside world, by their experiences and interactions. Our brains are nothing but reactionary machinery. But then where do these higher thought processes fit in? I can't accept that there is a soul but at the same time I cannot accept that there is not. I need to find out some day for sure. I need to know or at least put forth energy into finding out but it's such a daunting task. And one that many would say I'm foolish to pursue. Will  that stop me? do I live entirely for the opinions of others? Kind of. More than I should. But for everyone who hates on it there is at least one who would accept it so really when it comes to humanity anything goes. Everything goes. But by saying that am I condoning rapists and murderers and  people that are generally considered bad? Not really. And it's scary to think that they generally truly believe they are correct in their actions. Hitler truly thought what he was doing was best. Sometimes I catch myself falling into a similar mindset when I think about killing off the idiots of the world or at least sterilizing them so they can't breed. I scare myself sometimes but then at the same time I'm so desensitized. I think and dream of blood flowing out of me and never blink an eye at it. I crave it. I was watching House a lot today and I find myself wishing I had some medical condition, something painful. But only a certain kind of pain. And what do I really get? Painless yet terrifying strep throat.


1:41 A.M. I've been thinking of doing this all day but kept getting side tracked. My thoughts aren't racing nearly as much now as before but it's all coming back. I was reading and the reading sparked thoughts of determinism and if that's true. There was another argument for it that I hadn't heard before about the 4th dimension being consciousness and this 3D world being a specific projection of that 4th dimension through some lens of consciousness and he (Hinton) made the argument from what I understand that things are predetermined based on the specific projection of the 4th dimension we're living in. But I really don't know, it's too hard to think too hard to focus. I'm always side tracked thinking about Josh now. If it's not sex then I"m wanting him here to cuddle and talk to and he's not. He can be sometimes but I don't know him well enough to count on him yet and I want so bad to cuddle and talk to him while listening to the rain but I can't. I just saw him yesterday, I'll come off as so clingy. Because I am, I'm scarred for life. I can't be alone, I have no idea how to be happy alone and It kills me every day, every day I'm just waiting and killing time until the next time I see him and get to cuddle and things feel right again but I don't get that nearly as much as I want. I've only know him a couple weeks and he's still scarred from his last relationship, poor thing, and I'm terrified that I'll be too clingy and make him leave. Everyone leaves me, I never have anyone physically here when I really need them. Grandparents don't count because they really aren't here for me anyway. I didn't realize until today how bad my relationship is with them even though it appears fine to the outside but there's no emotion there at all. And I'm so afraid that the people I DO have an emotional attachment to will leave me or hurt me. Beth and now Josh, Lu already hurt me, I don't know how to talk to him anymore. But also I have no reason to feel any of this, I should be thankful for the relationships I have because others aren't nearly as fortunate as me but I just can't. I sit here all day waiting and I fade between glassy eyed distant stares to body shaking fits of sadness that make me think of nothing but slicing my arm from wrist to elbow watching my blood flow. I want it so bad and it's so wrong. I wonder if I'd die from that. That's not my intent, even if I may want to die and feel like I'm worthless I don't actually have the balls to do it. But I want to cut so bad, I want to bleed. I get way more excited than I should when I make my chapped lips bleed. Static in my mind, too much at once. Not blank like before,more like 500 half formed thoughts all at the same time then the snow on the TV screen when the tape runs out or the ring girl is coming to kill you, she's coming for you crawling toward you toward me, like the spider earlier that left me in a crying mess on the floor for 40 minutes because I was so alone and I needed someone, needed Josh, but couldn't cry out and was so cold and alone and afraid. 1:58 now. All that in 17 minutes. Maybe my mind was racing after all.

Thursday, June 12, 2014


It's going to be ok but there's no reason it'll be ok, Mom wasn't ok. What if I don't ever want to feel better. I know this, I want pain, I want to hurt, I want to be ripped in half broken at my breast bone or stabbed just beneath it, My mind moves faster than my pen. I couldn't even speak as fast as I think, Marissa made me try and I couldn't, I can't do anything but I can do lots of things I can write and do art and I'm smart and I got almost all A's why do I feel like a failure? I'm not doing enough, it's never enough, I could do so much more, I could be great but I'm wasting my life wasting my time being sad because I like the pain, I want the pain. I want a reason. I want it to go away but I still want it here, how can it go away if I still want it. No wonder meds and therapy haven't worked. It'll never work as long as I want it and the desire wont go away. Blank. Nothing. It all stopped. How long have I been writing. Only 5 minutes. Poor Lu. He can't help me but he still tries and it makes me sad. Just told him about wanting it and how it'll never go away and it hurts because I know my friends want to help me and want it to go away but it never will. Not only do I fail but I drag others down with me. Like Alex though I don't feel bad for him, that was largely his fault though - shit what was I gonna say. Oh. I can see why he didn't want to and really couldn't be with me, why would anyone want to be with me, be around me, talk to me. But people do, Lu does Beth does Engels does though he's probably just using me for sex. But maybe I like that, do I like that? It's not healthy if I do like that. Nothing about me is healthy, is anyone truly healthy? Probably not. Am I any less healthy than everyone else? If I die, yes, but will it ever actually get to that or am I just crying for attention. I have attention, I don't need depression to get it but I feel like I do, is that because of mom, because she was sad? I'll never know, I'll never have the chance to know her. There's so much I would have asked . I'm never gonna be able to read any of this am I. Do I even want to? How will it help if I can't read it back, this is supposed to clear my thoughts. It at least keeps them on one track kind of but I'll never actually know what that track is if I can't fucking read this. But my mind is always running too fast, I can't write it all down as I think it. Blank again. How long will it last. How long have I been writing now, 14 minutes it seems. Half way. Am I gonna show this to Beth? Would be weird since I talk about her in it. Maybe something like this would help Kieran, though it would probably just confuse him more. My thoughts are hell but I don't even know what hell is, I'm a spoiled suburban white girl with everything just handed to her.  I don't deserve to feel sad, I don't deserve to seek help. And why should anyone give a fuck about me anyway, even friends. I'm so tired but I can't sleep. I'd say I have insomnia but I'm just self diagnosing more fucking problems for attention. I make myself sick. But does self diagnosing problems mean I have a real problem? What even constitutes a real problem, How am I supposed to know that. Hurting myself and wanting pain is probably a real problem. Where does that even come from. I think I'm periodically forgetting to breathe as I'm doing this. I wonder why. Is it anxiety? stress? anger perhaps? though over what I couldn't say. Myself. I'm angry at myself for being me, for failing, for not living up to my potential and for not belonging. I feel alien always, I never have belonged in a social group. Even amongst close friends I don't belong. I see myself in a mirror and wonder what I'm doing there, who is that, who am I, why am I different, I'm just like everyone else but at the same time I'm not, I wanna be special but don't we all? I don't deserve that, few do, that's what actually makes them special. I'm normal. Can I still have problems if I'm normal? Blank. Breathe. 22 minutes down. It's odd how my mind shifts from internal to external and back and forth day in and day out. what even is a mind, how can I think about myself. look at me getting all philosophical as if I can solve mysteries that have been pondered for centuries. Who do I think I am, I am no one, nothing. I'm smarter than some but not smart enough. I'll never stand out in the world, nor should I, I don't deserve that. The vast majority of people don't. People are pigs, animals, nothing, specks of dust floating through Time and space. Doctor Who creeping into my mind and I remember when he said that in all his 900 years never has he met someone who isn't important. Maybe I am important but I don't deserve to be, not with my depression. I don't deserve to be sad, I have no reason to be sad. I should be fine, everyone expects me to just be fine. Am I fine? Am I just exaggerating? It doesn't feel like I am when I want to be ripped in half but. But nothing. Blank. Breathe. I think I'm done.