--

:: 2009 6 June :: 4.30 pm

a hollow point here
is much smaller than before
on the shallow front

my vapidity
grows as i relax, head is
a cheap velvet rag

i am aging and scared
i grow cold as i saw then
copacetic now.

overused eyes, they
deteriorate quickly
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

:: 2009 23 February :: 11.57 pm

god i am -so- tired of driving back and forth.... i'm tired of MOVING my crap everywhere. i just want to sit here and ENJOY NOT MOVING STUFF. for once, without being guilted about a productive night without work the next day.

that dream meant something, i think. you are starting to feel more distant, and distantly hurt, or distantly unhappy. and you wake up and you say you're not, but when you're asleep the unhappiness comes out. and then you're grumpy, you're bitter, you're resentful. and i think, maybe i have made you this way.
i don't want to go because i don't think you're going to be happy to see me now.
i think we both need change. your stubbornness in not wanting to rely on me, in not allowing me to support you, is really what's keeping me from moving out and taking you with me.

:: 2008 18 November :: 1.33 pm

i swear to god everyone i know is having babies. is this really what happens when you get into your twenties? everyone in your age group starts poppin' 'em out? you'd've thought we would've learned by now that there are ways to -not- get pregnant, but.. alas. i dunno. perhaps it's too much for the human mind to get rid of, if it's feasible to keep it. :/

:: 2008 23 October :: 2.09 am

Accumulation is my mortal sin.
Well, maybe not mortal. But the things that I have are starting to own me. This I am only just realizing when it might be too late... I only write when I am too worried about something to figure it out on my own. Or worried that I can't figure it out on my own. Maybe I can't. Maybe I won't

something again inside me is bothering me. It is telling me that in the end, I will end up alone, again. And somehow as I think of it I am not conflicted, and I feel that if I am not conflicted at the thought of it then I won't be conflicted if it happens. But I know that it's just suppression, or comparison of past events. The pain of the past makes anything possible in the future not as painful.

I am simply happy curled up in your body, and yet somehow any other point I am not. It is because I spend a lot of time with myself. When you spend a lot of time with someone, whether yourself or not, you get sick of them. Well, unless you love them. And I find the concept of loving oneself.. not quite foreign, but almost distasteful, as if a result of narcissism only. One either exists, hates oneself, or is conceited. Somehow there is no balanced self-acceptance in my human view.
But I am still trying, somehow, to make myself happy. It seems more like it is because I am trying to prevent sickness than really trying to help myself at all. I am trying to figure out along time-wise when this would have happened. I knew my discontent when I came back from paris, but, like PCD, I didn't think it would last very long. But it's only deepened, interrupted things I used to like.
Maybe I need a goal, something to accomplish, but what is the use of accomplishing anything? It becomes just the accomplishment you embody, a worth that is debatable.
But accomplishments... I do feel empty without them. I have accomplished little at college for myself, when compared with the 'essential' goals which are, apparently, the entire reason for higher education. This becomes a sense of worth only when you have done something which society recognizes, something hugely difficult at this day and age.
So I delve into things like eastern philosophy and yoga. Thinking if I act, make my body become useful then I myself may become useful to myself. What matters most? What matters most to me? Is it really the release of suffering? The escape of all that surrounds me, if I escape it, I still cannot escape my own mental constructs. My quiet little cage of negativity, my apparent inability to be happy compared to all these other happy, perky people that exist. It is easier to be happy with one's self, it seems, when you are the only person out there.
If I make sure that I have no future in society, will I ever stop worrying what I am going to do with my life?
Maybe it's because I don't know how to keep friends, or feel like cutting myself off from society is a way to somehow cut out all my flaws, or the reflections of my flaws. I won't have to deal with my cultural failures if I am not a part of society. I don't have to deal with drama and averting glances if I am surrounded by friendlessness.
I feel like I can't figure anything else until I leave everything behind and live in the middle of the woods with nothing, no one, no loves and no hates. Perhaps I can't let myself accept myself, or delve deep into myself and solve these issues until i've accomplished this fantasy, or attempted it and failed. Somehow I need to prove to myself there is more than doing this or that.

:: 2008 8 October :: 7.25 pm

i think long ago i resigned myself to artistic inadequacy in return for temporary peace of mind.

:: 2008 29 August :: 12.45 pm

"
when i was first born there were no regrets. yet living, in its inscrutible way, always filled life up with them, bit by bit. because of others, because of the world, because of the insects i crush under my feet; nothing prevents it.
when i have had enough, i sleep. when i sleep long enough, i forget. sometimes, i forget too much. but it is always better than remembering too much...
when i wake, things are new. different. i don't always remember that my wish on falling asleep again was for this waking to have less regrets than any other. perhaps this time i can learn something i will remember, come sleep or a silenced world...
"

:: 2008 21 August :: 8.30 pm

got killed by ten million pounds of sludge from new york and new jersey
if man is five
then the devil is six
then god is seven
then GOD is seven
then GOD is seven
then GOD is seven
then GOD is seven
then GOD is seven

[i haven't felt this way about a song in a very long time and it is a good connection to have. ]

everything is gonna burn
we'll all take turns
i'll get mine too

[a slow melting rising sinking, a rolling eyes, a fake scream just to feel and to forget the nothing apathy that's slowly been growing and fading in and out]

i strolled down the street and the leaves rustled and my shoulders and hip joints ached. i had to get somewhere but at the same time there was no place for me to really go.

this what i needed. this is what i've been missing for a while. this is that silent gap, this is what it was, just silence itself, a creeping silent mouth a missing of sound a void of music and a void of that inner twinge that puts in me a painting rampage and a feeling of feeling.

and this time it is finally a scream that is not in pain or misery. only frustration at this silence and all the green going going gone.

here comes the blue

:: 2008 6 August :: 10.33 pm

i don't know how much longer i can keep up this furry shit.

eh, maybe this is a phase. maybe this is also something i should have phased out a long, long, long-ass time ago. ugh..

:: 2008 28 July :: 11.09 pm

i hope i remember this moment, a little buzzed in france. the rains just came after a three day heat wave and it never rained the whole time i was here as hard as it did tonight as the sun set. it smelled of wet pavement for the only time i'll be here. my balcony is wet and the wind is still blowing as if it was raining, coming in through the balcony window-doors in chilly bursts, lessening the temperature but my heat stays the same... tends to happen with alcohol. the unpinpointable hidden spice in leffe lingers in my mouth; the belgian beer is almost empty and i have drank it alone. i have three days left here. it is the music, though, that really puts the mood in sometimes.
for one rare time that i've been here i'm longing and reacting to my own lonely little music, the modest mouse from home, the tongue i can understand. i'll breathe smoke in a little bit, and for the moment i'm hoping whatever i learned here sticks.

:: 2008 16 June :: 3.25 pm

part of me wishes he hadn't said something -- at least not so soon -- because now i can't stop thinking about it. at least, i am more than i used to be. it's like i have permission now. i am glad we are at least on the same page now concerning this.

i do wanna be with him, i do. i just need to wait three or four more years to see if his cuteness turns annoying. or if his crazies turn intolerable. or if i fuck anything up. y'know. so far, though, nothing worth breaking up over.. nothing that outweighs what it would feel like for us to be apart.

like that one week, you know... when i couldn't talk to him, because he wasn't coherent. no matter how many people i could talk to about it, or how much i wrote about it, it didn't make it feel any better, because i couldn't talk to him. because he was lost and confused and i couldn't physically be there, because he just didn't understand anything i was saying... i never felt so alone as i did that week. i imagine living life without him would be even more terrible than that, at least at first, and then a dry grey surviving-but-not-living after that. what is life without your best friend, the only one who understands you?

i wish i could remember all the things he said that night. i remember how upset he got just talking about what she did to him -- no, why.. he didn't know why. i don't either, i don't know why people do that to the ones they love.
i know why now he was so stubborn and averse to the subject.
i'm glad i was patient, and didn't question it, though it was also mostly because i was just as scared... make that still am.

sometimes i think i still have so much to learn about him...

:: 2008 30 May :: 12.40 am

these markers remind me wholly of that point in time. sitting in her room, coloring. not a bad time. not a good time. just... that time.

in my dreams i think i've forgiven her, for not being aware or supportive, or being unaware that she was unsupportive.

i don't like remembering anything about that time, because it always reminds me of how it culminated in something terrible.

:: 2008 25 April :: 11.07 pm
:: Music: dredg - the canyon behind her

I saw a distant port
With no water to support
Burning the bridge between

Does anybody feel this way
Does anybody feel like I do
Does anybody feel this way
Does anybody feel like I do

I cannot find the other half....

scared to talk to you. starting to think staying away, having an excuse not to answer your call, is a good thing. thank god i have some way out this weekend. i don't want to be around you because i have no idea what to do, nothing i'm doing is helping and it never will.

i'm not your anchor, because i can't talk to you without crying, because you don't make any sense, because you're not the dan i know.

i read those posts and now i am afraid that he will turn. i read those posts and hours later remember little things that he told me, things that i couldn't imagine him being like back then, but with how fast things have changed, now i could. if he was himself he wouldn't do that. but if he was something else, if he heard me saying things i wasn't, or other people who didn't exist, then how could i prevent it?

he has no logic... i want to yell at him because it's so silly, because i want him to stop it, to believe that no i can't read your mind. but that's not going to change anything. you can't argue with delusions.

i am not a miracle worker and i can't make anything better. talking to me doesn't make you any less confused. i know he doesn't want to change. but i want to make him like he was this past year, before all this.

what really gets me is that when he's not there i really just don't have anyone to talk to who will understand. nobody else i know has ever experienced this, and most people get freaked out about mental illness like this. because i don't is probably why i need to stick by, i doubt others would really get it. i know enough about it to know what's going on in there, barely... but not minutely enough to know even the first thing about what helps. he was able to be there for me because depression you can talk about. it's logic over emotions. it's defeatable. this isn't.

so i can't talk to him, so i can't tell him what's upsetting me, because it's him that's upsetting me, because he is the only person i confide in like this.

i don't want to cut things off forever, no... but i need to give him space as long as possible... i won't be the one calling next. call me when you are okay.. because all i do is fail you otherwise.

:: 2008 23 April :: 10.41 pm

doesn't feel good. i hope i am making more of this and worrying much more about this than i should. i don't understand it....

at the same time it proves how inextricably linked we are, even if it was us ourselves who made that link. if something happens to him, something like that, i cannot help but feel that shit down-trodden feeling again.

:: 2008 23 April :: 12.26 am

the herstory of ava bagonia
there is a slightly more than terrible discomfort when i listen to your music, the cds you've made me, when you're not there. and perhaps even when you are. the songs i've listened to so many times that they are not even there, unnoticeable like the wind, or like my own breath or scent... i'm not sure what it is, or why. it is sort of like nostalgia for someone who has recently died, even though i've not much experienced that. it's quite riddled and vague and unanswerably questionable... perhaps it is that i miss you that much, and that i was so very terribly hurt somehow in the past, anywhere over a year ago, in such a way that i did not realize.

i want you to be so happy. and you do seem like it. and i don't want you to worry.. because i don't want to worry. please sleep. goodnight, don't let the delusions bite.

:: 2008 7 April :: 11.43 pm

i still have dreams about this friend of mine. this friend i have never met. i never knew why, out of all the people i knew, i kept dreaming about this one person who i thought i knew but might not really. it took me a long time to realize that it was because of the parallels that i drew between us, her and myself. there was someone else out there, i reassured myself, who understood the weird kind of darks and lights. i might not have shown it as much but i too was rainbows and demon dark nights.
but she was never someone i could talk to about it. was always just too distant to really.. say anything that mattered. it was our characters that really interacted for us. and maybe that's what i miss. that's what i got out of it, and that's what i miss.
real life friends i can stand to walk away from, i can stand to miss -- all but rachael. and she is like rachael, another friend who understood, even though she didn't say anything.
and now, things are too complicated for her to really be here now. she is beyond us. we are not enough to hold her attention. to let us know anything but the big stuff. to let me communicate enough to keep up faces. and if she keeps this up then we'll drift apart like everyone does if you don't talk enough.
i want to be there, but in this life and world, and in expectations of me, it is much too awkward and prone to misunderstanding to really say that out loud like that.
i have dreams that we meet, but we may never.

i realized yes, i was drawing parallels. but then i realized that our lives are not the same. that what happened to me that summer didn't happen to her, that something like that wasn't necessarily -going- to happen. that she doesn't react or think like i do so things are going to be different. and while i want to be understanding about what things are like now, how tough things could be, i am not that person, i am not that friend. not to her.

:: 2008 3 April :: 11.53 pm

i realized today that in a year my GPA won't matter. it's really not a big deal to get good grades; what does it make you? i used to get As and Bs because i figured if i was smart and did all the work it's what would happen. i've started to try a little harder in college, and starting to get worked up about thinking somehow getting above a 3.5 will prove that i'm not an idiot. as if anyone thinks that already... perhaps i need to prove it to myself, or to my mom, but it's not like she'll ever change about her expectations for me. no matter what i do it'll never be enough, which is why i never tried in high school.
but if i'm getting As because i just want the GPA, and not because i'm fond of learning, or interested in the subject, then it's just work. and i worry too much about something like that when it doesn't really matter in the long run.
doing anything besides what affords me happiness and a stable sense of being is a foolish venture, where i am bound to end up frightfully anxious and overworked and unhappy about anything.
and if playing DS during class is what i'd rather do, then dammit, i'll do it.

:: 2008 28 March :: 9.36 pm

nothing is like my older brother. not like who he was when i knew him. and nothing will be again, not even him.

:: 2008 28 March :: 7.50 pm
:: Music: tori amos - girl disappearing

there's that feeling again.

i am feeling like i am becoming an unprofoundly boring person. everything about me is simpler now, and slightly more aesthetic, but at the same time much less interesting, original or creative. i want to make up for it, but then i feel it's pointless because i'd just be trying to be interesting for the sake of being interesting alone. i am a boring person now, i guess. i am an unoriginal, work-burdened and life-crushed human unit. i can't remember the last time i had the boredom, the time, to make the stories and creativities i used to. i have been put down too many times to want to stand up anymore,
i'm doused with wine, drunk with old grapes,
a robot, a robot, a robot, drawing what's drawn out of other's mouths and nothing drawn from my own head. this hurts, it does, feeling deep in chest. music, you know, used to have more of a profound effect on me.
i used to have passion, still i guess i do, somewhere inside, when i don't care. but i'm happy now and that's destroying what pain used to create, and terribly, in some awful circle, not being able to create from pain is dragging me down.

drawing, painting, creating is my life. to fail at this brings the most inhuman feeling of worthlessness. the ground shakes for a moment, but then all structures are on the ground, free of energy, in tiny pieces.

in the end, i don't really care enough about anything to make a change. i'm just letting it happen because i think if i wait long enough things will change by themselves.

:: 2008 20 March :: 1.16 am

just every now and then i get so consumed with wanting to be better, have to BE better, have to DO better, my work has to be better, better, better, i have to be better than this nothing person that i am right now---

but then it fades in to failure, and disappointing myself, and giving up, and being better never actually happens.

:: 2008 13 March :: 11.16 pm

i was doing so good i was doing SO good i was doing SO GOOD i was doing so good i was doing good

i don't want to compromise that

crash

crash

crashhh

i can't break it, it won't break, so now i'm stuck here, in a potentially dangerous place where i can't let it out but i can't let things in so what the hell am i supposed to do