2018 4 December :: 9.23 pm
i am permanently stuck in 2006. part of me froze in time as i lay there in the hospital, and i am always listening to music, looking back in time to try and get whatever it was back.
2017 6 May :: 7.31 am
This is the last time. No more. I'm sorry you can't be a civil person. But I can't have such an abusive person in my life.
This is painful. I'm never letting you hurt me again. I've forgiven you for the awful awful things you did and said - pushing my mother down the stairs when I was a child, verbally abusing us, telling me I was a stupid idiot a day before my suicide attempt, screaming and throwing things when you were upset... I know you have problems of your own and were hurt yourself when you were younger... I thought maybe you had changed now that you were an old man, maybe you had learned, maybe we could have had a ok relationship.
But no. I tell you something about myself that doesn't fit with your expectations of me, and suddenly that evokes this.. childish meanness in you. And it hurts coming from a parent. Even still now as an adult. I know better now, that I shouldn't internalize it, I am not what you say, you are just trying to get back at me for making a decision you don't agree with in a particularly hurtful fashion.
Would it help if I told you one of the reasons I don't want kids is because I'm afraid I would be a parent as awful as you? No, it wouldn't. But it's true.
You can try to be mean to me, but you reap what you sow. I don't want that because I don't want to be mean and hurtful like you are to me.
I have my brothers and my mother and my stepfamily and my in-laws. I don't require you in my life. It's just sad that you have to do this yourself. I tried this year, and you proved it's not possible, and I'm truly sorry for that.
I will forgive again in time. I will not be bitter like you are. But I will also not subject myself to your abuse any longer.
1 none |
2016 5 October :: 8.21 pm
secret time: i am grieving harder for my oldest cat than i did for my grandmother when she passed.
but she wasn't there, not really. just when i was old enough to really understand her, she was drowned in her own mind.
i can't get the image out of my head of them fitting his tiny, thin body in that box. is it because that's the last i saw of him? it keeps flicking into my mind. i woke up to it. his little arms. his little paws around his face. i just want to clutch him to my chest, stay here forever. never go. never leave.
i couldn't watch as he took his last breath. i couldn't take it. seeing the moment.
he was there when i came home, after getting out of the hospital ten years ago. soft paws, whiny meow, keeping me company during the night. any time i came home from college. home for christmas or holidays. funerals, weddings. always there. i can't stand the idea of coming home for thanksgiving or christmas this year and him not being there. today was so long. after i woke up, the shock wore off of what happened yesterday, and it suddenly became real. the day feels like it's lasting forever.
i have those moments in my mind. of him fat and fluffy. and then the images of him, old and skinny, but not unhappy. just tired. they're selling the house, and moving. he's staying with the house. his land, for fifteen years. now, always.
1 none |
2016 2 August :: 9.26 pm
:: Music: halsey, purity ring, lana.
is it heartburn or depression
i have been thinking a lot lately about being human. not specifically this species but just being allowed to make mistakes. i have always been very hard on myself and unforgiving. stupid stupid stupid! every time i do something wrong. has the self criticism ever helped? maybe i am better at some things now, but somehow it feels like if i'm not the best, what's the point? and the older i get the more i'm quite sure i'm not nor will ever be 'the best' at anything at all, ever.
does being human mean i'll have this little burned out scar feeling in my heart forever? will i be able to accept myself with my errors and imperfections? people talk about loving people 'flaws and all'. i dont care about others' flaws - but somehow i can't seem to look past my own. i mean, my self is what i have 100% control over. right? so i can make it as perfect as possible.
the girls i draw have to be perfect too. because physically i can't. i've learned to -live with- the majority of my physical flaws - the worst of it is on my back, where i can't see. but you can make a drawing perfect. and things like 'accepting' and 'loving' your flaws.. the fuck is that. hippie bullshit. i don't hate myself anymore. but what do i have to offer that allows me to love myself?! yikes! i know all my flaws and screw ups, hard to love someone when you know everythingggg they've ever done wrong.
i've been getting that 'who am i' feeling.. tiny bit dissociated feeling every now and then. like, am i really here, doing this now?
are my stomach issues self-induced? do i stress out about everything and that's making my acid go in overdrive?
sometimes i wish i could be one of those people who believes in god or gods. little buddha, little wiccan altar. looks pretty, would end up being a chore. pinterest religion. tumblr nirvana.
i saw the license plate rek the other day. numbernumbernumberrek. i thought of her. could i ever forget? take your depression, humanize it into a character you draw, give it a name. i don't look like her anymore. funny how i made her immortal, so she is always wishing for death. i wonder, sometimes - and i think it is so - that there will be always a piece of me - dark puzzle piece - made of smoke and acid - water and pills - burning deep inside - that tells me that death is always an option. but now the piece of me that knows exactly how hard it is to accomplish is much, much stronger.
i'm not still alive just because i'm 'content' or mostly happy or generally stable and doing OK. i'm mostly still alive because i toed the line and i tried it and it brushed against me and it was so, so cold and terrible and real.
oh, god, it's been ten years. it's been ten years and i still remember what it was like.
i had this theory that every ten years something -important- happens to me. 1996, parents divorce. 2006, suicide attempt. 2016 - i think this is the most positive by far. i bought a house. sure 'we' bought a house but it was mostly me telling him what to do, making recommendations, paying bills, paying off debt, saving, taking his money so he didn't spend it on idiotic frivolous things. it sounds controlling but we fucking got something out of it. and now i can let go a little bit, but i'm scared because what if we lose it?
and i'm lost because what now? i got the house. i never thought i'd do that. how did we do that? we fucking did it.. fucking christ how the fuck... somehow we bought a house with $6000.
but i feel her clawing back a little now because that was my goal for so so very long, now that it's been attained... i was expecting this amazing high, this smashing happiness but i never peaked. i stayed steady then i got this hollow emptiness inside. like that feeling i get when i go shopping and i buy something i didn't need but something i ~wanted~ except this is on a scale of 960 sq ft so it was a week of emptiness afterward instead of an hour. i made myself stop buying things - started to try to do things for someone else instead - and i got a little bit of a high out of it for a little bit. little bit happy feeling like that feeling when i'm driving through the woods in the summer with my favorite song on. and then a joke and a joke response but i think it was serious and oh hi insecurity there you are. there she is, little pit.
no conclusion, this is just mind vomit.
2015 17 June :: 10.32 pm
:: Music: marina and the diamonds - teen idle
i feel like people would have missed me a lot more when i was 19 than now. like, a teenager that dies? that's a tragedy. someone who's almost 30 and not really doing anything special? pfeh.
my art skill hasn't really improved for several years now. i come home and just waste my life. i waste my weekends. i'm too scared to change anything, to move, to quit my job. i tell myself i'm lucky to have a steady income, to be living in a 1st world country, to be able to afford little things here, little things there. but none of those reassurances really make a dent in the overall feeling of dissatisfaction with life. this is it? this.. day to day.. boredom, waste, nothing. why am i doing this again?
tried yoga. tried buddhism. tried alcohol. tried being sober. smoking, quitting smoking. tried eating all of the food, recklessly. tried being vegan and calorie counting. long hair, short hair, fat, skinny, fit, lazy, going out, staying in, reading more, drawing more... painting this, drawing that, digital, acrylic, watercolor, ink, calligraphy, markers, pencils, furry, anime, realism, pop surrealism, natural illustration....... nothing really kills the killing soul of day to day with a meaningless job.
i quite honestly feel like i've failed myself, that life has no meaning, i'm going through the motions, and not really enjoying much of it. blame it on dysthymia, maybe, whatever. the most exciting parts of my life where when i was suicidal, alcoholic, constantly broke, and feeling horrible, but at least things were fucking interesting.
the only reason i'm not trying anything is because i now know how much a suicide attempt actually hurts and severely fear that pain.
2015 26 March :: 12.40 pm
when i don't post, it's actually a good thing. for the one or two days of the year when my darkest thoughts seize me enough to write in here, there's 364 days when it's really not as bad as that.
stopped drinking. changed my bc. got rid of some stuff, made some real plans for the future, even if they won't happen for a while. i'm never really sure if i'm actually happy, but i do know when i'm -not depressed-, and if that's the best it can be, ok. that's cool. as long as it's not permanent depression forever.
i made it to 27. i made it through to 28. it's not the 'ohh all the musicians did it bweh' that is really meaningful to me, as is the theory that... 27 is when it's too far to keep holding on to teenage depression, addictions, habits. 27 is when you decide whether to shit or get off the pot - fight the lingering coming-of-age feelings, if you haven't started already, if you can. and if you can't... you can't.
i still have days when people close to me make me feel worthless. i take a moment to feel it, to feel the crappy 'i suck' feeling. but now there's a voice in my head that says, fuck you, person, for making me feel this way. it's YOUR fault. i am NOT terrible. so i refuse to be around you anymore. 7 billion other people on the planet, i can choose to disassociate with negative humans.
2 nones |
2014 17 July :: 9.52 pm
:: Music: fatm - what the water gave me
i'm still pretty afraid i won't make it to 28..
when i was 19 i was hoping everything was gonna be fixed, it was gonna be ok. when i was 20 and 21 i worked and i felt better and maybe i was better, i would do anything to keep from coming back to this fearful place.
but now it's almost ten years later and i'm miserable again - maybe i'm still miserable, maybe i was never happy? maybe i just had enough med residue running through my brain to stave off the complete dissatisfaction for a while.
i feel like i've run through the entirety of it. i've finished college, i've gone to therapy. i've gotten meds. i've lived with my best friends, and taken care of my favorite felines. i've traveled, i've petted tigers. i've gotten married to the only person i ever wanted to really commit to. i have a solo art show in a month and a half.
my family is moving away. my grand mother died, one who i wasn't particularly fond of. if all this happy stuff happened, and only a little bad stuff, i must be a weakling to be affected this much by the usual negative things that happen to the population.
in hind view i want to believe i was happy for a while there. maybe i was, i can't tell now seeing as i can't experience past emotions retroactively.
i am stupid, and my talent is useless and will not get me anywhere, and i will never be good enough. i ruin everything for myself, i can barely manage a 9-5 job. i probably have dysthimia which means i will make life miserable for myself and my family until i'm dead. i made stupid decisions for a long time and i'm still making stupid decisions because i'm scared and i always go the safe route. i could change my life, i could quit my job and live in an RV and just do art full time, but i know i won't. and even if i did, i know i wouldn't magically be happy because of it. my dissatisfaction from life comes from within, not from my environment.
i wish he could see. i wish he could read me and i wish he understood depression. he doesn't get emotional mental illness, just the solid ones - are you having hallucinations? yes, then let's get some help. but being sad all the time? nah. stop feeling sorry for yourself and making your own life miserable.
i'm tired of writing things eloquently in this journal.
the ocean is scary. it's deep, and you can't see the bottom. it's cold, it takes you on current. every death is lonely. every death i could have would be sad.
2014 8 May :: 10.44 pm
:: Music: charlotte martin water breaks stone
i'm here again, that means something's wrong.
i used to, do more
i used to, it used to try, be easy, letting go, or was it ever? do i even remember right?
you don't want me to talk to you anymore tonight. my phone is dead anyway. maybe there's something else that's greyed out, a plain surface, a flat sheet thin underneath my feet. things feel like they're changing but i'm really just too afraid to make it change myself.
do i patch this up? or am i just too afraid of getting depressed and falling into the deep and the waves overcoming, after being on my own?
Don't need the promise of heaven
Just faith I'll pass twenty seven
i've felt the worst today than i have in a long time.
2012 21 October :: 1.03 am
what really horrified me about that dream wasn't the fact that i was going to die soon, or terribly, or that i had to go to each and every person i knew/loved and tell them - but that i had to tell you i was going to be gone soon, and there was nothing you could do, and you would be horrifically alone and be doomed to a future of despair and psychosis. that you would be alone and i wouldn't be there to do anything to help you.
i think about that dream and the idea of death, and its inevitability, and persistence of it in a vein throughout every day. i flare my anxiety by thinking about someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe wednesday, maybe 242 days from now, an aneurysm or car crash could take me and there i would be, screaming in an instant, with an unresolved life. i think about the horror of death and i remember that day 6 years and 60 days ago when i first truly thought i was going to die. and every once in a while that feeling comes back and even though i don't logically believe i am going to die soon, the anxiety tells me that i will be. and somewhere in my heart it grips me, that even though it's not today, it's someday. i have to die.
but after all that, after all the PTSD fear and anxiety and depression and horror and insomnia, the only thing that actually, actually makes me stop and cry, is the single thought of leaving you to be alone.
2011 31 January :: 6.48 pm
and there's that little voice that whispers every now and then, but with increasing frequency --
i just want to be alone
2010 6 December :: 3.34 pm
uuuauuhghh my BRAIN
i've been at the same job for 1.3 years and with the same guy for 3.8 and in southern connecticut for 4.3. i need to.. do something. change something. move somewhere. be single. change my job. move to a different state. go to grad school on the other coast. i don't know. i fear i'm getting too stagnant. falling into that pit of... school job marry kids die. i can't do security. i can't do safety.
it's the same 3 towns, the same house, the same work, same road, everything, just boring and familiar.. uninspiring... no fear of failure.. no new loves...
2010 2 December :: 11.18 am
:: Music: just like heaven
alone, alone, alone, alone,
alone above a raging sea.
i step out and the wet hits me in the face, heavy rain and high wave spray. i wander along the shore, rocks rolling in the stormy surf, waves roaring, lapping upwards, trying so hard to reach, to reach, to touch my black heels, to no avail. i wonder how cold the water is and how long it would take, just for a moment. but with each high thunderous wave, the fear of death rears. i just stand there, eyes and hair full of rainy salty wet.
i wonder if i really should be alone. i wonder if you're turning me into this, or if i'm turning into this myself. i wish i didn't think of leaving every day.
2010 5 November :: 3.05 pm
:: Music: madonna/mergirl/toriamos/puttingthedamageon
i need to escape
cold dust air
crunch crisp leaves beneath
shadows of trees, lowering sun, fading distance
numbing fingers, chapping cheeks
what am i looking for?
a snuffle crunch, not a crackle,
cold snow underboot
light silent flakes
waiting for nothing
i can never leave here
2010 19 May :: 12.27 am
most of the time i am pretty good at ignoring and not remembering, but then sometimes i'll just come across it. and it frustrates me, and depresses me, to realize once again that i'll never be anything and all my life's work is bullshit and stupid and will be forgotten in a decade, dead long before i even am.
that must be why i half ass everything.. if it's not something that makes someone else go 'oh gosh that is so inspiring and original', what the fuck is the point..? sigh...
2010 10 March :: 1.10 am
behold, i am healed, i have forgotten how to read and write. i now assemble stories in pictures. i erased the last four years of der herz and all that shit. i should have done more character development rather than doing some stupid shit with my head. now i am afraid i am rewriting everything wrong.
1 none |
2009 16 December :: 1.45 pm
:: Music: charlotte martin - stromata
andromeda : chained / to be punished by gods for beauty touted by others. not by own actions. also: constellation.
stromata : in part, strict adherence to religious dictations of marriage. also: structure of cellular/connective tissue.
there is a connection in there somewhere, but...
2009 22 October :: 1.24 am
because this isn't just a song that's finally given an artist and a title.
it's thirteen years ago, it's eleven years old.
it's a cold, haunted apartment in a two hundred year old house, an awkward start to puberty and depression after The Divorce.
it's a tiny kitchen and two brothers and a mom who still had a decent sense of music, an old black boombox, and radio i95.
it wasn't anything to anyone else.
maybe that's why songs of this era mean so much to me -- it's the memory. the beginning of the sad, the beginning of Me as i Am. the great forgetting.
2009 17 July :: 12.28 am
my art is useless and terrible. my skills are outdated. i am always going in the wrong direction.
1 none |
2009 28 June :: 11.20 pm
man, i ain't changed, but i know i ain't the same...
i never do this i never do this i never do this i never do this anymore
now i just drive, heavy fast music, foot on the pedal, meter going past 100, and no matter how much i can't run i can't scream loud enough
chair thrown down the stairs
boiling blood thrown on ice over and over
2009 6 June :: 4.30 pm
a hollow point here
is much smaller than before
on the shallow front
grows as i relax, head is
a cheap velvet rag
i am aging and scared
i grow cold as i saw then
overused eyes, they
when focused inside
my taste in music
ceased to grow when i left here
paris was silence
marble walls and those
tourists who were just there to
brag that they were there
i miss monet trees
warm eggs, good chocolate, and
life in a painting
but what i have now
is not to be doubted or
thrown out like nothing
this history is
my own, age is compelling
wish i could fight it
feeling like this tree
white and dead in a marsh pond
dry, weak, immobile