:: 2005 21 January :: 5.05 pm

Something wonderful had come out of this confusing week. I have just met a woman who is such a great person. Highly respected so early. Kind and intelligent she is. Though a great person, she remains equal in respect to my other friends. And even those who wish not to be as such. Just because we do not talk, does not mean I've lost respect for you. Indeed today had me vexed, but I see a dark, cold night approaching and I shall still be here for it. And for those of you who do not understand my mind, a cold, dark night is my idea of a wonderful night. Anything, dark, dreary, deadly, cold, rainy, or dangerous is in my eyes, as beautiful. Just one of the very very many things and people I see beauty in. The things most people find as revolting, disctusting or depressing, I take into heart as beautiful. But ask me to look in a mirror and I see all that is hated, discust, hideous, mutilated by years of denial, repression, and holding in what I should have expressed at an earlier age.

Run away...

:: 2005 21 January :: 3.21 pm

My apologies to all of you, for I've been doing nothing but whining for I don't know how long. You'll hear no more of it. Because I highly doubt anyone wants to read through the shit of me whining because things aren't going my way. I've been childish and I think it's about time for me to grow up and get over it.

Run away...

:: 2005 21 January :: 6.45 am

Options
This means nothing but right now my options are, morbid suicide, asylum, fail school and be nothing which I already am, attempt running away again (never works, plus, I'm walking since I can not run.) or of course try to carry on and end up worse....I'm voting the morbid suicide. But then if I do that...I'm only weaker than I thought myself to be....like it matters now anyway.

Run away...

:: 2005 20 January :: 7.21 pm
:: Mood: I feel the need to write.

You know what I just remembered?

The story I never sent.

Now I'm working on another one and I've yet to finish modification and revision on many others. I'll finish them.

Procrastination never fails to amaze me.

"Phoenix Rising" currently writing. "In the Arms of a Fallen Angel" revising, extending, a bunch of other pointless shit. "Silverwolf - The Legend Lives On" procrastinated for over five months...still working on it (fourth of a series). "Darkness Whispers Death" A twisted little story of hate, betrayal, blood, horror, death, blah, blah, blah, and so on. Never even started it yet. "Secrets" Sucks literally! Rewriting and revising that. "Harkon Manor" Extending, making it more disturbing, more blood, more gore, more melancholy scenery to throw into the minds eye. Soon I shall be writing another story, perhaps I'll involve more of a romance based tragic, horror, mystery line. I don't know, romance story lines usually suck. From me at least. Although I do recall burning one of my old "romantic" stories that at one point stepped over the line of an up close view of necrophelia and suicide....the woman he loved died and he wasn't ready to let her go...so what? I did get another step closer to an institution for that though. Anyway, I'll be off to write.

Run away...

:: 2005 20 January :: 12.14 pm
:: Mood: Who cares?

Another trip to the hospital, this time by ambulance. This is normally the time when I'd sit in my room with a sharp object to my throat, lying in broken glass that I keep in a little rusty box. But I figured it all pointless to do it again. Writing and music are the only things keeping me alive right now. And I'm out of ideas for writing....so music alone holds my mind in a state...like that of an eternal dream that I fall in to when I care to escape the the world. Although what's better than living to see how much else you can fuck up before you finally die!? I'm going to die at the age of 20, a gunshot wound. Felt it since I was five years old....not a good thought for a five year old to know. But it's still there. Anyway, it's been over two weeks now, almost three, and I'm still sick with who-knows what. But "Everything is fine." according to every damn person who manages to stick needles in my arms and a machine to various places on my dysfunctional body. I can no longer run. I can't do much as it is anyway. I can barely hold myself up at times. That's fairly pathetic. Why torture me? I don't know, maybe it is now going to be a part of life. People seem to enjoy doing it. Whether it be trying to crush me or throwing my across a room. I have a damn migraine...it fucking hurts! Anyway, I'm going to go write random things that happen to pop into my mind. Or read. Whichever.
I found my mom's digital camera yesterday and took some pictures for a friend...in doing so I thought of this "I took a picture, stared at it, then saw the monster inside." I hate myself.

Run away...