Nothing more

Guilt is one of the worst feelings I know. And whether I have anything I should feel guilty about or not, I am. And I'm sorry I'm not better.

Stacking Up

Today I was asked what I was truly scared of. The subject is irrelevant, but my answer was the most honest answer I could come up with. That is, until now. I said I was scared of losing my pride, and in a sense I am, but what I'm truly scared of is not being enough. Enough in every sense of the word. Enough of a provider, enough of a friend, enough of a partner, enough of a student, enough of a person. I am scared to walk into something not knowing what will become of me, and what I can bring forth. I am scared to be legally bound to something that scares me from the start. Don't get me wrong I am ecstatic to be moving forward, but the road itself is unfamiliar. That, I don't like. I don't like where I'm at this point in my life, but it's damn near impossible to change anything now. Even more, it's almost worthless to attempt change when in a matter of months I'll be long gone anyhow. I don't mind my job, I honestly would like to keep it. But everyone wants me to do more. I'm scared of being a let down. I'm scared I won't stack up to what it's expected of me. I'm scared to be myself. Even worse, I'm scared to admit that. I'm scared enough is never enough, and I'm scared that who I am, and my limits, fall far too short of what I and they should be. Being understood is much harder than I ever thought possible.

Who knows.

I'm not happy. I've known this for a while now, but the intensity and reality of the matter is finally kicking in. Hard. I've tried every which way to find some sort of fulfillment in life, but either I or someone else shuts it down instantaneously. I am quite literally dying for social interaction, I don't care with who, where, or how. I'm virtually unapproachable though, and that sucks. My days are broken down from hours to minutes to seconds of sitting in an empty room, TV off lights off, mind is on full blast though. I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen, but it never does. I leave the house on daily runs, hoping to find that missing thing out there, but it never shows. I wait, I search, no matter how I approach it, life is hiding from me. Happiness riding its coattails. This isn't some bad mood kind of day writing. This is an unspeakable feeling of deep isolation and mourning. I've lost who I am completely and I've shut myself out entirely. If I can't tap into who I am, who the fuck else will. Who else even can? I just need someone to sit with, I think. On my overpass, letting the sun fall and chill us both to our cores. I'm just tired of feeling so alone I think. Who knows.

If you really want to know.

No matter how hard I try
Involvement means nothing.
No matter how hard I try
My actions go unnoticed.

This is my final call.
Hear me out.

My thoughts, at times
Scream so loud that I
Can't bare to be around me.

So I shut myself in.

I'm awfully confused though
As to how I've gotten so far
Being irresponsible and careless.

I thought at one point
I heard you say you were proud
I thought I heard you praise me.

I swore I heard
But its terribly faint now.

I thought I was ready.
But you showed me I'm just a fool
For thinking so.

Thanks, if you really want to know.

Like Diamonds

Young child, don't you see what you will become? Young child, this life you were born into is not for you. Young child, your soul is wise beyond its years. Young child, you glisten with creativity. But young child, you are grown now. Young child, you are a beautiful woman now. Young child, I can't sit you on my lap anymore. I can't turn your head from the world we were born into. But young child, I can show you the world that you created. I can show you the strength and brilliance you've cultivated. Young child, you rule the world now.

I would wander if I knew how to walk

For months now, I have been poetically silenced. Finishing my degree is a valid excuse, to some extent. But now, I wake up to nothing. I make meaningless movements and deliver mindless tasks. Friends are becoming more and more of a fantasy than a reality due to my lack of motivation. I've holed myself up like some sort of hermit, yet I have nothing to show for my isolation, unlike many hermits do...

I beg myself to find a new job, but I fight back in self-doubt. I need something to fill my days, but I refuse to search. I battle myself on every situation, every idea, every encounter that I might come across. I battle myself because my mind knows nothing else. I battle myself because I know the outcome, I know I will always lose. That is what I know. That and that there is so much more I know, but I will not allow myself to see...

This self torture has become a sick love affair. I want to pull away, but I seduce myself back in, succumbed to the sweetness of a tasteless void. I do not beat myself up over the nothingness that I feel that I have started to become, so self pity is lacking. I'm all too aware of myself for that. I have no idea whats going on inside me though. I wish I didn't know who I was, maybe then I would let myself in a bit more...

I'm a stranger in my own body though. Why the hell would I let myself in? I've written all that I could, though. I've found solace in this void, I can only dream of seeing something in the horizon that isn't a mirage. Something that is me. In love and in hate with my Borderline Personality Disorder...

One day...I'll see...maybe.

Doot da doo doo do, da doo

these hands, they are far from being clean
they have seen things you've never seen
they suit well covered in blood
because they are made to spill your guts
(your guts)

well ill find ways to get inside your soul
ill find ways to steal your gold

my heart will never be content, with revenge

your lips spewed out a truth
a truth that you only knew
it sounded like an escape, to us
(and thus) these hands took you away

well ill find ways to get inside your soul
ill find ways to steal your gold

my heart will never be content
with revenge and dirty hands

Orange Juice & Armaretto

I haven't met eyes with the shower in two days. My feet haven't gone much farther than the fridge. Somehow, somewhere, my energy is collecting into an unreachable and undefinable ball. My arms don't wrap quite as tightly around my girlfriend anymore, my hands no longer grasp and shake another's with confident strength. I feel dead. Sleep takes the best of me, sweeps me off my feet, and steals me away from those that I love. Every step on the scale is another pound lost. Whether I consume 2500 calories or 25. I feel like an infant, learning to hold it's head up without it flopping down. Each keystroke takes more effort than the last. Am I depressed? Quite possibly. Am I in a stage of utter depression? I really don't think so. I am scared though. I am scared that I could possibly be a person that I never thought I would be. A weak one. A sick one. Every conscious moment is a terrifying scramble of possibilities that I thought were impossible. For me at least. But then again, who am I to determine who I am? No one, that's who. I can indeed determine what I do, regardless of who I am, but who I am is an unchangeable matter. I am terribly terrified of that. I can't stop being me. Whoever that happens to be at this moment. Right now I have to play the waiting game until I know. 2 weeks is much too long in my eyes, and school is just another week after that. My head is pulsing in pain with veins not big enough for this blog. My body aches to recede back into its horizontal position on the right side of the bed and consciously drift off to the sound of The Cure being played on VH1 Classic. My head will continue to swirl until I actually have something good to write.