:: 2007 2 March :: 8.58 pm

i can't imagine not living day to day where i have to manage every dollar. i love figuring it all out. what can i buy myself this week? when i start thinking that i can afford more things, i get unhappy. filling myself with empty material goods just makes me feel.. dumb.

i just want a sketchpad, maybe some bleach or hairdye, and shampoo.

i have some shoes to sell, ich denke.

--

:: 2007 1 March :: 4.58 pm

only person that can help me only person that hurts me only person that can kill me only person that can keep this away only person that can distract me only person that can kill me only person me only person

is me

--

:: 2007 28 February :: 11.00 am
:: Music: the wretched

--

:: 2007 25 February :: 9.39 pm

again, and again, things slip out. but i think it's best this way. everything before, it was forced or false, or half-real. so many things before were forced.


'do i make you happy?'


am i breathing? am i here before you? have i not called you, every night i was down, because i knew you were one of the only things that makes me really happy? can cheer me up like no one else?
though i loved the others before, perhaps, perhaps immature infatuation, it wasn't right that i would feel sick/down/unhappy at specific times in their presence. like i wasn't enough. but i don't think about having to be enough around you, it's not even on the menu. i just want to be there, and you to be there when i need you, if you can.

i said it. like my reaction when i found out, like when i kissed you for the first time, it was an accident; but that doesn't mean i didn't mean it. cliche enough, it means it came from the heart, from inside. it was so hard for me to tell you i liked you back then. it would have been impossible over the phone. even if you didn't say it back [which, seeing your eyes when you look at me sometimes, i wouldn't have believed] it would have been okay. i just needed to tell you. to let you know.

things you say to me that i didn't even realize no one's said before. 'i will always be there for you.'


i don't have to think, i don't have to pretend, i don't have to fake. it's all okay and it'll all be okay. what it feels like and what it is.

--

:: 2007 23 February :: 1.55 pm

man. i haven't been this close to breaking skin in seven months.

right on the ribs.

--

:: 2007 23 February :: 10.27 am
:: Music: fiona apple - get gone

--

:: 2007 22 February :: 5.18 pm

dysthymia, atypical depression, major depressive disorder -- it's all the same thing. the same drudging through shit sometimes and being neutral through others. so similar symptoms, too.

i might be panicking now, if i hadn't taken my medication the other night. still, i might have no reason to panic. i'm recognizing that i've been hearing things that aren't real, when i fall asleep, and sometimes what wake me up in the night.

loud, thumping noises, like some kind of subwoofer malfunction, ranging in pitch from really deep to a not so deep, short buzzing noise.
a strange amalgamation of bird noises, kind of like the sound that my computer makes when it restarts. it happened last night and i thought my comp had restarted on me, but then i realized that winamp was still going, and it hadn't made the shutdown noise, either. then i thought maybe it was someone's weird alarm, but it didn't wake up my roommate, and it definitely sounded like it was coming from inside the room or right outside the window [but not really].
i've heard alarms before, weird beeping noises similar to cellphones, so loud that they wake me up, but then when i try to find them, there's nowhere that it gets louder or softer -- like no matter where i go the volume is the same.
climactic wooshing noises, like wind.
the obligatory ringing in my ears always gets much, much louder when i'm falling asleep.
strange organ noises, i just heard when i napped today. like the beginning of wolf parade's 'this heart's on fire', except lower in pitch, and not really repetetive like musical, just kind of like random notes.
i thought i heard a musical chime in class today [right ear], kind of like one of those older clocks that goes off.


if this is going to happen when i take my medication, i'm stopping.

--

:: 2007 19 February :: 7.40 pm

http://www.psycheducation.org/depression/frameset.html

thoughts like if i push a pin through my ribcage what will it puncture are permeating, though nonverbally most of the time. i remember those points in time in my life when my thoughts weren't right. not just self-harm; it was more convoluted than that. like that one night when i went through pages and pages of fucked-up drawings and there was black ink and paint all down my arms and i hung upside down off the bed and when she came home and asked what the fuck was going on, i just laughed and laughed. who in their right mind does that?

i had high sugar intake this evening after dinner, like last night. and, like last night, there's a feeling of lethargy and apathy and that not good something something edge of anxiety and almost mixed-up thoughts. diet effects. although, to disprove it, i was feeling the same unfounded lethargy while eating. it's something i've associated that's not really too bad in and of itself, but it's just not a happy feeling, and if left alone it'll grow into either a panic attack or malicious thoughts. scratch that face.

i'm disconnecting it more and more from myself. i'm afraid to take medication again because i don't want to experience either the slow, sleepy, pseudohappy of it working, or the disappointment of it NOT working and then having to up the dose. i know it stopped working a few months after i started taking it. taking it seemed pointless, then, so i stopped. and now i get these ups and downs.. not unlike before the hospital, but they feel different, a bit more like they're attacking me powerfully. like i'm losing the battle finally. losing control. and right now i'm doing okay because i'm not letting it get me, i call people or i go outside for a smoke or i read or write... i'm not sure if drawing is beneficial to getting over it; sometimes i tend to dwell on it because it's like a fuel that hurts when it goes through but comes out with something i wouldn't have been able to make without [did you see my art the first few weeks out of the hospital? fucking horrible!]. and then i had that one trip and i couldn't remember if i was screaming or not and it was just fucking pot and since then i've had not the best grips on things but my art is a little more out there.

http://www.mcmanweb.com/article-161.htm
i fear that all this medicating and self-medicating and all these years of not doing anything about it is breaking my mind down. i peaked in early 2003. i might not have been able to grip some philosophy as well as i do now, but i was more coherent and put together and normal than anything else. now, i can go about my business, do normal things like write journal entries, but the uncontrolled fantasies of self-malice [can i emphasize not controlled here enough?] still happen while i'm being normal. i took a sip of my iced tea and there was little false glass shards demons in my other hand lefthand destruction.
i want to destroy things. but i can't. i can only destroy myself, and if this keeps going, my subconscious is going to succeed.


help.


help me.


i can't live every day with something inside me wanting to claw myself up.

--

:: 2007 18 February :: 5.19 pm

goddammit i love you

dammit dammit dammit

fuck


shit


why can't i say it?

--

:: 2007 17 February :: 6.09 pm

maybe not so much to care about anything. but, too fucked up to care about being fucked up. it is what it is, nadie me entienden.

espero, esperare. estoy esperando.

--

:: 2007 17 February :: 1.18 am

evidence of the past
http://aflara.livejournal.com/96283.html

http://aflara.livejournal.com/98778.html

http://aflara.livejournal.com/100379.html

http://aflara.livejournal.com/101502.html

rek (aflara) wrote,
@ 2004-01-23 10:25:00

Current music: absent tefedic chants

shh.
even beatrice comes back to civilisation ever and anon, for fuck's sake.

we are as worthless
as a berry on a tongue
a cut in a throat.

the we are the fey
the fey are the given ones
created, undone.

this is what i am
acceptance breeds solitude
even tigers sing.

--

:: 2007 16 February :: 12.34 am

no, i've got it. he's the only person [and you know i'm being serious here when i use a word like only] i've been around who... i don't think about dying. i don't think about being sad. i want to live. and not just for him, or for anyone else, but for myself.

maybe because he actually believes i'm worthwhile.

it's seeping in.

--

:: 2007 16 February :: 12.24 am

hey


hey hey hey
hey
hey hey



i can't say it.



a little more flip, one more conscious realization. like that day in the grocery store two or three months ago. i was watching him go on ahead of me, leaving me behind while he got what he needed and didn't really bother to see if i was still even near him. i just stopped and sighed and the thought came to my head. 'i wish dan was here.'

but this time, tonight, it was the whimsicalness. tie your shoes. the things he comes up with... i'm starting to be less confused about how he comes up with it, and more just happy that it's so random.. but not like 'highschooler impressing the weird kids' random. like those characters in the best books random, the creative ones that they make look so normal, but still so special. a bit more charming than i anticipated, even if i did anticipate.


there's something about him that makes me feel so damn okay. like i'm safe from everyone, even myself.


...i know i'm tired when all i think is him. sleep now.

--

:: 2007 15 February :: 10.40 am
:: Music: gong/andvari

--

:: 2007 14 February :: 6.26 pm

so i've got seven years. tyler's shouting, today was your last day on earth, what do you wish you'd done? and my spacemonkey self makes a damn list out of it.

i wish i'd sung lead vocals at a show.
i wish i'd gone to europe.
i wish i'd made a comic serial and gotten it published.
i wish i'd helped more people than i have.
i wish i'd told my family i loved them more.
i wish i'd died in vermont.


i've got seven years to get this list done. a death with no regrets, and if i can find a way to slowly, slowly, slowly condition myself not to fear it when it comes, all the better.


i think you forgot that your 27 is my 26. night day-dream boasts grayscale shots, my boots and your sneakers grate on the granite and it's windy and cold. neither of us wants to live like this. forty stories in your arms.

26. six years, then. i'm not a musician, so i can't count. my egg-timer heart is, though. beat by beat by beat--

--

:: 2007 12 February :: 4.20 pm

some fascinating entries, written and read. and it's backwards of a month or two ago, y not x not x not y.


you know i have no reason to go back to you. why would i want to feel like an idiot again? why would i want to be physically and emotionally hurt over and over again? why would i stay with someone who hates to see me happy? why would i keep giving and giving hoping to make you happy again, just to have you fake it so i don't feel bad? you are a disappointment. you broke this off. you should be over me. don't ask otherwise; no more chances.


goddammit i tried so fucking hard.
'i need everyone in the world who isn't you.'
i feel sick.

--

:: 2007 9 February :: 10.55 pm

waxing moon.

--

:: 2007 7 February :: 10.04 am

what it is is imagination. when i look up and try to find constellations in glow-stars on the ceiling, or see someone walking into the room out of the corner of my eye, only to look up and there's no one there. but it doesn't bother me, because i know i'm letting it. like daydreams when falling asleep.


i finally figured out how to describe it, he says. it's like hearing ghosts.



no permission, no need for admission, no vacuous crying in the night for he who wasn't who you'd thought he'd be. over and over i submit myself to the nevers and evers and always. and it seems like never really means sometime in the near future. never and always means that someday this is going to run out, so cling while you can, because this isn't going to last. never means you have to cry out, don't leave, because you know someday they will.
so it's hard to hold back. once i add these words i fabricate something, paper mache, falls in the wind.



what i hate most is being pushed away, when it seems like they need me most. when i see sick or hurting and i act how i act and i just get pushed off like i'm some kind of nuisance, leave me, i'm better off alone, i don't need you, why are you here,

why WAS i there? he never needed me, and the last thing i needed was his skewed, vehement, bitter, unrelenting criticizing of every voice i made and every act i did and that voice that just never let me feel anything other than stupid stupid stupid--


but we can't look back. can't blame ourselves for trying. you were in my dreams, on the phone, all those nights; cheer, tear-drier, listened. and as helpless as i feel sometimes, as long as you don't push me away...

i'm trying not to let myself feel desperation, to not really feel too much. i don't need to overdo this, i'm not worried. calm relief. i'll let myself feel when i'm sure of it.


















this is redundant and unnecessary, but it sure kills time.

--

:: 2007 5 February :: 6.37 pm

and i'm reading these people's journals, everyone who's got everything together. even when shit goes bad and health gets in the way, they still try. working two jobs and going to school and still being happy. how the fuck do they manage? i can barely manage school, nevermind school and work.

i used to believe in myself. i still feel resolve, sometimes, like with this german class i know i'm going to fail because i'm so behind on the work that they learned last year but i didn't. i think maybe if i try to learn everything that i'm learning now, i'll do okay. but it's so much work, and everything just feels so heavy... i'm too trapped, wrapped up in whatever self-malicious bullshit i have... it's pathetic. instead of doing something, getting over it and moving on and living like everyone else is, i sit alone and mope. i'm starting to perceive myself as one of those people who can't do anything because they're sick. being in the hospital, being in therapy suddenly is some kind of excuse for not being able to do shit everyone else does.
perhaps what happened at the end of the summer is proof that i can't do that. i can't handle self-resolve and i can't manage when shit goes bad. i don't have what it takes to succeed; no one is drawn to me because of anything special; i am not a leader. i'm a pretender, lying to myself.

why is it so hard? why am i so weak? why don't i ever know what to do....?

--

:: 2007 5 February :: 1.12 pm

it's stupid how such stupid things can make me feel so stupid. that in itself makes me, of course, stupid.


i'm tired of being inadequate here... i can't do this. i can't do the things i used to, anymore. i'm fucking worthless...


[and then i run.]

--