:: 2007 8 April :: 10.10 pm

doing pretty much okay today, not so much the days before [as my last lj entry doesn't make much sense]. when i say 'okay' i mean 'coherent'.

i started a hypnogogia log, but now it's turned into hypnopompia [happens during waking] and the hypnopompia is worse -- not as loud, but muchmuchmuch more... different sounds and people talking. more of them, and more variety.

i thought i was just being silly the last couple of days, but then again i was in the state of mind to create weird things/write weird things... so.. it didn't seem weird to me then. right now i can see nonsensical everything. i still feel a little unreal, but at least i'm recognizing being weird.

this entry in my personal journal.. it's one from spring break, when this started, or at least started to get worse. redundant thoughts, couldn't stop thinking about suicide, so scared of losing control.

same here.

on bad days, in class, my handwriting reverts back to third grade.

also doodles get... weirder. i don't usually draw like this. at all.



you know, just in case you wondered why i write so many 'oh my god what's happening to me' entries. i really, really can't wait til summer break. my room at home is so safe...

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:: 2007 5 April :: 12.11 pm

i thought medication was supposed to fix me [last resort]


what do i do now

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:: 2007 4 April :: 10.53 pm

MY SINE WAVE


I'M LOUD NOW ON THESE PILLS


MY SINE WAVE RINGING IN MY EARS


MY SINE WAVE




my voice ECHOES. heyheyhey i KEEPKEEPKEEP talking la la overandover, it's like a speed-demon hot-colors big-eyes fakelovefakelove. i GRIN i'm LOUD i LAUGH smilesmirk

its ok to be like this when i'm not real!!!!!!1


its ok to be like this because i'm not me anyway!!!!!!



I AM NOTHING AND IT'S AMAZING.



and of course there's something screaming crying tearing bashing smashing careening crashing behind that glass wall, but it's just that, behind a glass wall, glasswallglasswall. if i don't pretend that this is happiness, it's okay. i'm not trying to be happy so it's not fake. i'm just trying to put away the anxiety. i can hear my heart beat, finally, and not care if it's going to stop. maybe it'll take less than two hours tonight for me to fall asleep because i won't be listening to the pulse pulse pulse thing inside of me that i'll never see.








my head hurts. i wonder how long until i get tired of this.

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:: 2007 3 April :: 9.37 pm
:: Music: mogwai - sine wave

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:: 2007 1 April :: 10.20 pm

"alright"

alright, ninety percent of the time. rare overreaction, typicated typical. back to 'normal'.

back to boring. back to not even close to death. why the fuck do i like being fucked up? the only thing that entertains me now are the hypnogogic voices and noises when i fall asleep; even when they feel malevolent [hisstatic, shillshlilhih] somehow it's still better than being fucking normal.

it's not that i like being fucked up, then. i just hate feeling normal, i hate feeling like nothing good and nothing bad is going to happen, that things are just going to keep going on and on the same as they are now. i don't know what to make of it.


i know it's lying under the surface. i need to feel alive, so i need to feel death. but i still can't seem to make myself..

anyway, who am i without something wrong?

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:: 2007 30 March :: 8.28 pm

copied and pasted


every ten seconds i think my heart is going to stop. therapist says 'preoccupied'

things aren't bad enough to keep me out of school or work just yet, so i guess there's nothing terribly wrong with me, after all. i am turning into a psychiatrihypochondriac. just because i don't know who i am and don't recognize my hands and hear strange things when i fall asleep [which i found out is just a form of hypnogogia, and nothing abnormal] and kind of talk to myself sometimes and think very bad bad bad things when i'm not feeling good and have a phobia of anything ambulance-related and kind of i think they told me i have some retarded anxiety??? why am i telling you all this? who the fuck cares? it's just a sideshow for you, looped thought processes, god this is so funny, i guess, don't you know? jesus and muhammed fucking ruined the world. i won't bow down. not to you, personally attacking, haha, he doesn't think enough of me for that.

no one thinks anyone is wrong. i cry for the stupidest reasons. no one thinks anyone is wrong. this week i'm still alive. i almost wasn't so so so hey so many repetetive i've been there before times before, times, before, last week the spots in front of my eyes owned the light so sleep reigned during the day and there wasn't any closing no dark no rest at night for hours and hours. all that silence, you know? what are we going to do with it? how do i know tomorrow it won't be back with a vengeance?

but i'm not skipping all my classes just yet and i still don't have anything below a B and i'm at work and working fine right now so i guess nothing is wrong. i guess my head is just weird. it just didn't used to be like this, i guess, i guess, just it didn't, i guess. it just didn't used to be like this.

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:: 2007 30 March :: 7.23 pm

very strangely, i don't think i know who i am anymore. anymore, anymore, anymore.
who is this person who wears these shoes? where did they come from? i can't remember. i know i know but i can't seem to put together how who i was came to be who i am. the eyes that are seeing aren't the same eyes. the dancing spots and unreal lights changed them. out of corners, out of existence. who is to say what is what?

i don't remember writing that last line, ten minutes later.

the sound pulsed in my ears. i could hear each hit, strike, word, heaving heavy air out and somehow i understand what he means, somehow i hear though i have never and will never meet this singing voice. how strange. how strange it all is. how unfamiliar.
my nails, somehow, attached to these long long long fingers -- how did i get this way? chipped polish and chewed? somehow this defines this person, sad excuse for a girl.
well, i guess it's because there is no me anymore. it's just what other people see. a shell that thinks and responds. what's coming out of my head?
i'm starting to wonder about pain, it's just nerves and sensations -- a reaction isn't a solid thing in itself, just a concept like emotion. i can hurt other people and not feel it. i am not me anymore -- there is no i, there is no me -- but somehow this brain is still attached to those nerves. why can't i not feel? if this is not me, shouldn't i not feel like other people? i don't understand. there's still something here that's awake. there's still something blinking and typing and making sense out of this, how little sense it might make.

i used to look at things and want to paint them. now i just look at them. at least, that other person did.

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:: 2007 29 March :: 6.44 pm

i wish my mind didn't think of itself so often.

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:: 2007 28 March :: 6.05 pm

with a heart like a shutting door, slamming with every beat; with a mind like a prophetic attached loop, catching death and screams for silent ribcages even in sleep.


everything can be explained in a song, except that fear. half-asleep, half-awake, dream-voices i can't understand [only one word i've ever been able to grab onto and keep into consciousness, 'husband']. how much of it is alright and how much is made-up, nothing i know. or how off i really am [it's my own thing, i should have realized, but all i could think of are the parallels to you] or how much i try to avoid hate [hating that bitter in my stomach] and the bandaids on my wrist and my feet [other hand, now, and a line of scratches on my forehead, and i'll be like Him, that all-knowing peace-wishing hypocritical world-war-fucking-draggingouthere ffuck]
and the sun is bleach, incredible flash white, it's warm and comfortable - reminds me of you, you remind me of this, the indescribable moments in a day when you're happy and you don't know it because it doesn't matter why because it's not forced - trees - clouds through a window - silence and hot air and sleep is becoming.


septimus leapt, like the younger sister, the fence -- not a tradition i want to be part of, a tradition i'm afraid my subconscious may well want to drag me down in. i can shove it off my back today easily. all it takes is noise.

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:: 2007 26 March :: 7.11 pm

every year, the same -- new year's hats for january, hearts for february, shamrocks for march, bunnies and eggs for april, flowers for may, beaches for june, flags for july, suns for august, schoolbuses for september, pumpkins for october, turkeys for november, trees and wreaths for december, all over and over again. as if we forget the holidays, as if we forget what happens each month, as if each month stops the clocks and starts again each first.

and i can see my toes and the birds chirp like they never had all winter, the sun blocked by cloud-edges straight lines of darker blue like negative holiness, the chill wind softer than it has been most of the year. i know her from around but i've never talked to her, those two are always together. a tiny sound and her laughter -- something really funny, a true laugh, lasts for such a time and breaks the silence with a smile even though i don't understand.

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:: 2007 25 March :: 11.45 pm

maybe this sleep wake up painted
maybe this sleep wake up peace

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:: 2007 19 March :: 12.32 pm

i can't help but spend time alone, but damn man i shouldn't spend so much time alone, because damn man, i'm losing it. logic is filtering itself out of my body when i am not around anyone else. and when people talk i'm too caught off guard. cat as-gard.

fucking hell, my mind is playing word-games word circle-games words in loop-loop-loop- limb to limb to limb to limb. and i painted my own downward spiral yesterday but it feels empty, i've got white holes and veins and red teeth in there




i fucking love you to bits, and you're the reason i'm holding on

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:: 2007 15 March :: 10.59 am

this headache above my eye won't leave. it's been there since last night, ten o clock ish. it's 11am, next morning. still there. still seeing spots. still worried. was worst when i woke up.

i had a dream with a red tailed hawk last night. it was huge. i looked over [my younger brother pointed, really], and it was landing on a treebranch, and spread its wings. red tail, offwhite underneath, and such bright greyblue black-ticked wingfeathers. it was huge.

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:: 2007 14 March :: 7.01 pm

hospital dream again


i was... something. i was flipping out because i kept getting confused. forgetting what i was supposed to do, forgetting what to do. forgetting time. [like a seriously escalated version of now]. i had my puppy in my dorm with me, and i'd leave and then i'd remember i had her in there so i'd have to go back, and just there was a point.. it was so confusing... i ended up in the hospital, somehow, just because i didn't know what i was doing. i think half-voluntary. yelling at times, talking loud. laughing, maybe. and then they wanted me to strip down all my clothes and hose me off before they could admit me. they got half of them off before i started screaming, yelling, 'you want me to fucking wash in front of this glass window, with these people [security guards] watching?! YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY!' so i ran. i avoided that, but they caught up with me somewhere else in the hospital. my mom was there, now. the sun was going down here, too. they started taking my stuff away. i told them i needed to take care of my dog. i needed someone to make sure my dog would be okay. where was my cell phone, do i still have my cell phone? did they take it away again? i need to call dan, i NEED TO CALL DAN. so my mom.. gave them his phone number, and they went off to get a regular phone, and when they brought it back he was on the line. this was the only point where my thought process was linear, where i could understand what was going on, where i could talk like a normal person. and he was there, on the phone, trying to say something but he was so upset, so so so upset he couldn't even make words.. what he was saying wasn't making any sense. i just kept saying his name over and over and over and over again, then he said something to me in a voice that sounded like he was crying, i told him, no, i'm not in the same hospital they put you into when they treated you like shit. no, it's ok. i'm in new haven, not waterbury. and then he calmed down, we talked for a few moments.. but then i lost the phone somehow. mostly, i think, because i saw an opportunity to run. i ran through the halls of the hospital, into the crafts room [which was huge, like the size of a crafts store], throwing racks of fabric and crafting materials behind me, dodging and running as fast as i could. i did lose them, i lost them. i hid against a wall, people were coming... more guards, nurses.. suddenly the twin doors opened up in front of me. it was wet out, dark, blue. in comes the president of the hospital, oblivious to what was going on.. and i seize the chance. i ran out the door as fast as i could, past security guards -- one of the nurses yelled to me, 'you're a slippery one, aren't you??' and started laughing. the guards laughed too, as i ran past. i yelled at them, HEY FUCK YOU!!, gave them the finger, laughed. my mom was outside and suddenly we were across the street, we were leaving, though i was still running. sidewalk. these kids are on their bikes, riding home. i recognize one of them from class and say, 'hey, cory!', he turns and loses balance but doesn't fall off the bike.. they ride off into the distance. my mind is less confused here. i have my bag with me, i have my glasses, hey, i even have my cell phone. i have most of what i need so there's no reason to go back.


then i wake up, and i realize that it wasn't real.

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:: 2007 13 March :: 10.35 pm

people make a difference in perspective, preventing anxiety, confusion and error rectification. enforcing comfort and staving off the unhappy. what i don't know can't hurt me. what could have been, what pain endurance and regrets i regret to regret.



in a mad world, colors are still beautiful. only kindness matters in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make. ahimsa.

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:: 2007 9 March :: 1.26 pm

less sleep.

i don't feel anything, but i don't care. tired, empty, listless, no energy.


i'm... out of it.

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:: 2007 8 March :: 11.23 am

if i can just stop thinking about it, like it's something that effects every day. like an alcoholic, or an addict. step by step. i'm not doing it now, but that doesn't mean i won't read something or feel something or hear something later today that'll make me feel different and not.. good.

it's been more blank.. first half of yesterday was just white and okay, lifted off the bad things. then the sun set and i felt sick until you called.

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:: 2007 5 March :: 5.35 pm

reading such thought patterns of other people makes me realize how much unlike the summer i'm thinking now. i do talk back to that inner voice. but only if it is a voice. what happens when it's a murmur, like the sound of the ocean if you live on the beach, always there...? don't even realize it?

i just don't get why it's like this. how i can feel okay and then how i can not feel okay. suddenly the scars on my wrist seem so vivid.



it used to only be when i was alone. now i'm in class and i have to leave for a breath of fresh air, a stretcher passed in the hallway and all of a sudden all i can think of is the barely-felt thumping of the stretcher legs as they clicked up into the ambulance, dulled because of so much acetominophen in my system, the blood pressure measuring-thing squeezing my arm and my fingers on my throat making sure my heart doesn't stop. a paramedic passes. he doesn't look like the one who was shouting at me 'how much did you take? did you take the whole bottle?' like either i couldn't hear him or he was mad at me. i still think he was. 'what a stupid girl.' just another in his day of work, but i don't think he understood that i didn't understand that i was just another body in the ambulance and there were others who probably would have benefited more from suicide [an attempt that actually worked, really], but what does he know? and then the policeman walks by and i think of the fat one who still maintained somehow a good air, asking where my keychains were as they linger outside the door, can we get going, my heart is going to stop, i can't think, they're shutting the doors and the leaves are passing by overhead.

and i'm back in class. take out your notebooks, she's already speaking german. i'm breathing heavy. i can feel something in my chest like that day. i need to go outside, my actions are irrational and i can't move right. i need a few minutes......








i itched my leg with a knife and broke skin. something smiles and laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world and pushes this feeling on my like, cut, cut, cut more, it's okay, it's just skin, it's already open. i thought you loved blood!

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:: 2007 4 March :: 10.54 pm

i am constantly hungry, all i want to do is eat and eat and eat.

but when i do, it tastes like dirt. even water tastes dirty.

and then it hits my stomach and my guts give me pain. twists and knots, every time.

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:: 2007 4 March :: 2.50 pm

'see, this is happiness.' i said. 'not medication.'


new cigarettes, a burning ember in my hand. a view of the moon with its company of clouds, shining out, soft bright barely blue indigo. the water beside the road catches the reflection sparingly. more often it shows lamplights. twelve-thirty seven, minutes past midnight, most of the people in those houses are dreaming.

i wouldn't be seeing this or feeling anything if it weren't for the person behind the wheel. the things in my life because of him...

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