The Tides of Change

There is a terrifying line between thinking that you're only pretending to do something and realizing that you aren't in control at all. It's the difference to pretending to be a coldhearted killer and realizing that if you didn't tell yourself, you couldn't live with yourself. It's the difference between joking about wanting to kill and harm and destroy the people around you see that you like more than yourself and realizing that you really do want to, and that humor is just your way of trivializing an impulse that's almost too strong to be ignored. It's the difference between telling people you hear voices, that you have periods of time that you aren't in control and have multiple personalities, and telling yourself you're lying about them, and realizing that what you thought were lies are truths.

It's the difference between lies being true. That's really at what's stake here. The sppooon and a bottle of water are two entirely idferent beings of speakers they ahve nothing in common but what they herein contain are truths about the lies inside .There's nothing inherent here because we can't see what might be there but if pages could see through one noather it might be another story entirely. When someone is standing behind you you can grasp their presence, feel their strength and that they're there, be it by some supernatural sense or just feeling their energy in the room but when you feel that and they aren't htere, your sense of have trict you, how can you tell that line? How can yo utrust yourself when your body couldbe so easily lying to you?

I think this and I remember how often I think about why my body is doing waht it's doing and I tell myself it's what i want it to but it's not. I just tell myself that because i cna't control it and admitting to that deificaiton

would be worse than that.

there is a terrifying line between a facade and reality. When the facade is just wishful thnking, there is clearly corruption

in the house of denamark

I can't keep thoughts going one avenue, they slip off into thousands of directions and holding them is impossible

it's a horrible feeling to be out of control. drugs do not help. Do you know what being on them is like?

It's like being permantnyl drunk, you know your limits and capabilities but for some reason your mind and body are not living up to them. Something is wrong. so wrong it's making you physically ill.

worried.

I cant tell you why this is here other than that it's some time in the morning

and I can't tihnk

and this is what's going through my head

and I do not feel well and I just wish it was a few months ago

and she and i were together

and these problems were gone.

( Who comments the most on this journal? )

And I feel like I'm picking up the pieces of a puzzle known as my past, the borders so familiar but so hard to find, if I can't finish this how will I remember, these shades of nostalgia are just too much to bear.

I had a dream that david IM'd me and was like, sup, and he got a job at the same place Kelly's working at and was really excited and was telling me all about it, and for some strange reason it put me in a really good mood.

..what the hell? lol.

I miss everything.

It makes me inexpressibly sad. Grasping so hard at tendrils of memory that may or may not even be correct. Like ripples in a lake, you look and you think you see the truth but what you see is just a distorted reflection, and even though the moon is prettier in the beveled water it's not the real moon and that memory will never match with reality and that's the trouble with it isn't it it's just all the trouble with it.

Sigh. I don't want to write very much about this.

I've been going through all my files on this desktop ever since I got back from college. I have two HD's, both of which are almost full. I've been trying to move everything into a few simple folders (all pictures in one place, all sent files in once place, all music in one place, etc.) as well as delete duplicate files to free up some space, and in the process I've been finding all sorts of scattered stuff. It's fucking staggering, the amount of memories you have. It never seems like it because if you try to remember anything specific it simply slips away, just out of reach. It's that aggravating bottle that's rolled under your bed and when you try to snatch it your fingers knock it further under but you've got to know the message in it, you've got to know what is in there, but god damn it you cannot reach it.

Missing your past is natural, I suppose. I don't know what's so hard about moving forward and making new experiences rather than dwelling on past ones. You can never truly recapture anything in the past. So having an attachment to it seems rather folly.

No matter how many times I (or most anyone else I imagine) hear it, no matter how many times it's demonstrated, you never know what you've got until it's gone.

Late nights spent staying up almost indefiance of highschool, working on RPG games using illegally downloaded programs with Nick and exchanging files and helping each other with images and music and ideas, with the only worry being some test a few days later. Sure waking up at 6 every day was a bitch and I hated it, but highschool felt safe.

Speaking of safe.. it seems I've come to a theme. My past, my memories, they're all warm, they're all safe. Routine, habits, doing shit the same way day after day, it feels safe. It feels like home. Leaving that seems terrifying--almost paralysing. Moving forward has never been my strong suit--meeting new people, even asking an employee for an application -still- intimidates me to this day, and that is not a good thing. Being so full of contradictions that the term 'hypocrite' becomes a completely inadequate term for me.. what a mess.

I've got to move forward, but I don't know how. Alyssa and I are happy.. for now. I hope we spend a long time together, and for the record, I really and truly do love her. But it's rocky, and it's hard, and it stresses me out.. but it's worth it. I hope we're together for years. But the ramifications of that scare me a little bit.. I can't be in a non-serious relationship. And yet, long term ones scare the fuck out of me. But for the most part, I'm happy in this one, so I see no reason to change it. What stipulations it will have on my life from now.. we'll see, I guess. I've never been too good at planning my future, since it never does any good anyways. I'll just have to trust that it'll work out and I'll make the right decisions from now on.. or at least, more of them.

In any case.. I hate how predictable I am. :l These cycles are balderdash. Truly, they are.

Sigh.

All of my music is so heavily ingrained with memories that it hurts to listen to anything.

Goddammit I don't want to be emo.

..I really should read Saikano sometime..

Fuck. This.

Prom today. Goodnight.

It feels like it's been forever since I sat down to type a bunch of words onto a virtual sheet of paper. Not much over a month according to lj, but that wasn't much of an entry. To -really- write some shit down, I dunno; it feels much longer. Having a semester completely lacking in any classes that required some form of writing probably didn't help. Not that having any did..

I don't even know if anyone reads this thing anymore. It feels kind of.. dead, even to me. But I'm wary to make a new one. I'll probably just reskin this thing at some point.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, so I must be in one of those phases in my yearly cycle where I become a nostalgiafag. My first year at college seems so much longer than it really was. A lot's happened in the last few years, and some of it I like, some of it I don't, but fuck if I know what's for the better. I burnt a lot more bridges than I ever intended to, but really, I'm not sure how many bridges I had in the first place. Or if I know anyone as well as I thought. But that's just me casting stones of doubt into a pool of thought, and the ripples just disturb the fuck out of e-he-heverything.

Missing shit is natural, I guess, and you can only move forward, but I find myself yearning to bring people from the past into my present, and that shit does not fly, because the people back there sure as hell are not the people that inhabit this place. Everyone changes, to varying degrees. I find the same names surfacing when I think back on the last year, and strangely, none of them like me very much. I don't know much about what's going on in many of their lives, and I find myself feeling.. strangely missing that connection. The severed connections David, Zac, Ryan, Cam, Shelly, Lynsie, Bill, Sean, Chris, Damon, Matt, Michelle, Catherine, Katelin, Mark, Matt, John, Jack, Alyssa, Ginny, Pat, Greg, Michael, Kelsey, Jordan, Ashlee, Jenn, Mike, Sammy, Erin, Brittany, Sarah; the connections that went one way Molly, Hannah, Sammy, and all the girls I blathered on about over the years; the worn/fading/wavering/lost connections Kelly, Rich, Emily, Josh, Lauren, Kacie, Tim, Jake, Corey, Derek, Zak, Zack, Dan, Mike, Raph, Lauren, John, Trey, Eric, Julie, Kirsti, Jason, Katie, Kelsi, Tony, Tim, Jordan, Aaron, Allen, Amanda, Colleen, Clay, Bryan, Brian, Kevin, Jesse, Chester, Angela, Lem, Martin, Scott, Badia, Rebecca; the still beating connections Alyssa, Amanda, Nick, Dan, Christie, Matt, Ryli, Ivan..

Sidenote: I just realized some of those people are mentors. FFFUUU--

The sheer amount of people that I've met in just 18 years is staggering. I'm always so inclined to fiction that I'd like to believe all those faces will reappear in coming years of my life, but I know it's highly unlikely, especially if I move away from here. I'd like to rekindle lost friendships and overcome obstacles and roadblocks and disagreements.. but I know it's simply impossible. Not only is it selfish, it's stupid. Everybody has changed. I'm unsure of how anyone even perceived me to begin with. I don't know if I'm even that likable. I'm sure a good chunk of people would say I'm not.

Still, reflecting on all the people I've met and shit I've done in my life, I can't help but be overwhelmed by a divine sense of the sublime. It's the same feeling I get looking out from the top of a mountain on a vast, enormous sprawling forest that goes on forever, unmarred by pavement or any of man's inventions. Or at least it's how I imagine it--I've never been to a place like that, but I hope I'll get to one someday.

Most of the people whose names I recalled I doubt will ever even read this. I'm not sure why I wrote them out. I don't know. I never did the graduation lj post to everyone, or reflected much on anything, maybe this is it, just about a year late, lol. shrug.

What nags me, what will always nag me, is the question of whether or not I'm the one that let all those friendships, acquaintenships down. If I didn't try hard enough, and it's my own fault, or I'm just a horrible person. Or it's theirs, they let it fall, or perhaps neither of us; we simply moved on, or we changed, or never fit at all. It's so hard to know.

Living in a dorm with two people that started out as friends and ended the year as a strange cold shoulder thing and another one I'm not really sure what the fuck happened was strange to me.. but now I'm having trouble adjusting back. There was an odd element of safety at Keene, despite all the times I bitched and moaned about it. How is it I miss shit I complained about almost constantly? Even after people point out all the reasons I should be glad stuff is out of my life. I guess I just want the good times back. But they aren't coming back are they? They're in the past. And there they stay.

I dunno if I'm good or bad with change. I've been having my yearly/monthly/whateverly identity crisis again and this is probably a product of that. I haven't been listening to or writing very much music lately, I've been feeling more shut in than usual, I've become more withdrawn and paranoid, less lazy. I need a job bad, and I've been applying places, but I don't know if I'll get a job. I fucking need one goddammit but I seriously don't know if I'll get one.

Something else I'd like to touch on is all the cliquey warring bullshit I've observed over the years. It is fucking EVERYWHERE. I'm convinced I could get 'into' any group of friends and, using a pre-made checklist, fill every niche that my previous 'groups' of friends consisted of. I never know where I stand, but no matter where it is, x amount of people end up disliking me for siding with some other person y, and then z amount of other people end up siding with me and it's just a fucking mess. Goddammit, I don't understand why it keeps happening. Do I just suck at holding a grudge? Do I forgive too easily? What the hell is wrong with me? Since when is my tune "Can't we all just get along?" goddammit. It's a fucking conspiracy isn't it, fuck. and fuck you live journal, I spelled economy right, and you corrected it to "ecnonomy." Wtg. goddammit.

This is just going to get more and more windy and confusing and conjumbled because it's 5:40 in the morning, I need to sleep but I can't, my head is spinning and I have shit to do today and goddammit I'll probably just stay up again motherfucker goddammit fuck. I'm going to prom tomorrow, I've got to get a corsage and a whatthefuckisitcalled today, I still have to do all these applications to jobs (fuck you Target, sears, shaws, wal mart, cinemagic, hannafords, market basket, best buy, and fuck you circuit city for going out of business, radioshack, lowes, home depot and all the fast food places in south new hampshire--but mostly fuck you, shitty economy, and fuck you, people that put it where it is. capitalism at its worst. goddammit.)

It's so easy to feel trapped, even with deep breaths.

I'm going to go get food now and be amused by "Why the hell are you up already?" that I know is coming.

Also, I think I've got antisocial/narcissistic personality disorders. Diagnosing yourself with bullshit is fun!

Reading my old entries still makes me rage. Reading old comments makes me sad. baw.

I'll probably be posting more in the future. I forgot how much I like to write. woohoo who cares.

If you actually read all of that, awesome, let's be friends :D and comment.

D: I miss you all. /cue jerkass comments.

sadfaec.

oh. And I caved. I got a twitter. Damn me. http://twitter.com/xSpiritofChaos

Monday:
NOTHING.

Tuesday:
10:00 - 11:45 - Issues in the Media
12:00 - 13:45 - Psych Stats
16:00 - 17:45 - Creative Writing

Wednesday:
18:00 - 21:30 - Intro to Justice Studies

Thursday:
10:00 - 11:45 - Issues in the Media
12:00 - 13:45 - Psych Stats
16:00 - 17:45 - Creative Writing

Friday:
NOTHING.

I dealt with the three class schedule my first semester, and this time the third class is only an hour and 45 instead of three and a half hours, so I think Tuesdays and Thursdays will be quite manageable. Not looking forward so much to all the writing but hey, whatever. I'm good at it.

AND A FOUR DAY WEEKEND, HELL YEAH.

Granted I'll probably have a job back in Mtown and I'll probably have to get an apartment here for ~$300 a month and a car permit for like $150-250, and commute every weekend back home because the housing process here is complete bullshit..

BUT WHO CARES THIS IS AWESOME.

My programming teacher said "Hey there, Mr. Java!"

Enough said.

:l

FUUUUUUUCK.

So I called and emailed housing, and after a few days of minimal communication, this is the verdict.

"You won’t be able to participate in the selection process with any person or group who completed the Returning Student Housing Interest Form by the deadline of 1/28/09. You will be able to participate in the housing selection process after all other students have chosen their rooms."

So basically I didn't check my email for 2 days, and it fucked me over, even though I sent the email before the deadline. But I still don't really have any right to complain because it is technically my fault that I didn't know anything was wrong so I didn't check my email. My bad! Whatever. At least it won't ever happen again because now I have Digsby to tell me when the fuck I have shit in my inbox.

My lottery number is 430B, so AFTER the other 429 students have already chosen their rooms, I can choose mine. There's a good chance I could get stuck in Freshman dorms AGAIN, or as an RA or some shit. FUCK. THAT.

If I can't at least have decent room mates I know, in a residence hall that's not full of discourteous, overaged children running around at 2am banging on walls like fucking immature little shits, I'm not going to be able to deal with the insurmountable level of bullshit that college throws at you all week long. It's just not fucking worth it. Granted this semester is more tolerable but it's still fucking stupid. The heating unit falls of the wall if you dick with it all, the knob can pop off, there's mold inside and behind the fan which I tried unsuccessfully to destroy with Lysol (which ended up burning off, that was a wonderful, turgid smell), the thermostat doesn't have numbers on it, just "LOW MED HI" and the heat it signals to blow is of this dry, shitty, burnt quality, much like that of a giant hairdryer. It's awful. I hate this room. I hate this dorm.

"So it sucks when you're a freshman. It gets better! Everybody says their freshman year is shit, it's supposed to be! But really, just wait it out, it will be better." UM. From what I've seen of next year, unless I get a better dorm, NOTHING FUCKING CHANGES. None of it. Maybe if I learned to enjoy drinking it'd be less shitty, but I don't want to because I don't generally enjoy completely losing control of myself and becoming an entirely different person I don't fucking trust. Also, I doubt Alyssa would be alright with that, and not drinking for the sake of a significant other is something I'm perfectly alright with. Also, even more fun is that because I tried to get a bunch of gen eds out of the way freshman year, it APPARENTLY disqualified me from any major program because the prereq's I'd have taken to get out of the way of my sophomore year I STILL HAVE TO TAKE. What? So I'd be in freshman classes ANYWAYS my sophomore year, and it wouldn't be until junior year I'd have a chance to take classes I give a fuck about (which is what I'm told is the part that's worth it), and I want to transfer somewhere the fuck else ANYWAYS, so what's the god damn point?

I suppose it comes down to what the fuck I'm doing next year. I scheduled an appointment with my adviser for tomorrow before I dealt with this housing shit, so I guess I'll talk things over with her and see what my options are.

I guess we'll see.

What I'd have LIKED to have done is gotten a suite with everyone and gone here another year, hopefully bringing my car up so I could go back every two weeks, and then transferred to a college near where Alyssa is going in GA. I have no dreams, so I'd be losing nothing and gaining everything. The plan is the same now, but I don't know if I'll be spending another here year or somewhere else, like a...a.. a.. *dies inside* community college. As long as I can transfer (and Alyssa and I are still together, god I hope we are), then the plan works out. Another issue entirely is my GPA, which as of last semester went from a 3.4 at the time of graduating highschool, to a 2.4 thanks to a lot of STUPID decisions I made (going to bed way too late, missing class due to being sick and never getting back into it, forgetting or losing assignments, THE SAME OLD SHIT IN HIGH SCHOOL I VOWED TO CHANGE, yeah fucking fail, but that's what happens when you have no ambition isn't it, you don't give a shit!) and some REALLY FAIL ADVICE I received from faculty. THANKS. I'm hoping to raise my GPA to at LEAST above a 3.0 by the end of this semester, but that's seeming increasingly unlikely thanks to two of my classes having unreasonably ridiculous exams. Yay!

There's way too many variables in there for my liking. But such is life. I hate structure and plans because the nature of life is to CHANGE and basically ruin all of your future endeavors. But whatever. Nothing I can do. That's the system.

I just wish I had some idea of what's going to happen next year. Now is about the time I Need to know.. ah well. I guess it's about time I started looking for other colleges in the area.

Great.

So Keene didn't get my enrollment for next year. Or my housing intent form.

Actually, they didn't get anything at all.

So I'm probably not going back.

But now I don't know where to go. Or what to do.

Fuck.

I think I just fell through ice again.

I hate this stupid insomnia bullshit. It's terrifically self-defeating. You're pretty much useless because your reaction time is shit, your brain is slowed way down, your muscles atrophy slightly and lose a lot of their tone and finesse when you're overtired, you're half-running on adrenaline so you've got the shakes, plus you've got hallucinations going over from your brain interpreting way too much information and it's just like, fuck, this is dumb. It's been a long day and you were romping around the snow for hours, so you're wicked tired, but you still can't sleep no matter how hard you try. But there's also nothing you can really do because of how tired you are. So you need to sleep.

but you can't.

How fucking frustrating is that? I hate it. So I turn to writing a journal entry because it feels like writing is the only thing I have left to try to attempt to make myself drowsy and make this fantastic worthless feeling go away.

But it's really windy out right now. Like incredibly so. Maybe that's what does it. I love wind, it's very intense. Lots of energy. Kind of like a full moon, which we had not so recently, ha.

I had a talk with Alyssa a few days ago about the past and she commented that she doesn't really know much about it past which got me to thinking this familiar old line: what the fuck do I know about my past? For all I know I was adopted and abused as a child and everything I remember is a fabricated paradise that my addled brain keeps up as a front. Or maybe all my memories are intact (likely considering the real shit that exists based on them) and my brain is trying to be overdramatic. Who knows.

This train of thought brings me to the, "what the fuck have I done with my life and why do I feel so goddamn unsatisfied with it?" shit that I hate dealing with because frankly, I don't like who I am, and I'm pretty sure a lot of other people don't as well. Granted I can put hard work into anything I set my mind to and, chances are, it's going to come out pretty good. But there are very few things in life that I'm willing to work hard for.

And that gets me to thinking, why? Why is it so hard to find motivation to do anything? And this isn't something new, caused by the onset of "oh god oh god life is coming at me oh god it's happening so fast stress stress stress," because it's been there for as long as I can remember. I've always found motivation a very, very hard thing to come by, even when the rationale for it is perfectly logical. The first example that comes to mind is brushing my teeth when I was younger. It keeps plaque off, it makes your breath smell better, it prevents against painful cavities which hurt even more to fill, makes your teeth feel nice and clean, as well as gives you a brilliant smile! And for all this, it's a mere two minutes in front of a mirror, and I loved looking at those.

So why the FUCK didn't I do it? It's easy to fall back on the adage that I was just a lazy brat, and it's just a personality trait that would have come out in me no matter what kind of life style I lived, but I honestly don't think that's what it is. It seems it on the surface, but I can't accept that I'm lazy. Not because it's a negative trait, but because it feels wrong. It feels like calling a rose a stone. It's not right. I work too hard at what I care about. But that begs the question, if it's not laziness, what is it? Fear? Anxiety? Inability to make decisions?

I suppose those could just be excuses for being lazy, but I really don't think so. Because laziness would be just sitting there and thinking "oh no, too much work, fuck it, I'ma just watch TV all day" whereas my thought process goes more along the lines of "I should.. but what if--" and now that I look at it, that looks like just overthinking everything to me. Living too much in your head and forsaking what's out here. Which is really silly, when you consider our brains evolved in order for us to survive better out here. Irony, the world is thick with it.

Whenever I do something I plan it out way too much in my head. Even the simple activity of going downstairs to fetch water will beg a thought process that goes like this "Shit. I am thirsty. I should get water. *rummages on floor* fuck. all water bottles are empty. I should go get one from downstairs. But what if one of my parents says something? And plus I have to get up from this bed, and go down all those stairs, and then it'll be cold all the way down, and the basement will be dark and I'll have to switch on the light, or maybe I won't switch on the light and it will be too hard to see but then which light switch do I use, and what if the bulb is burned out then maybe I should take a flashlight but oh where are they I don't know where they are I'll have to find one but I think the batteris are dead, oh fuck it I'll just go--but fuck, what if it takes too long and I'm not tired anymore when I get back, then I won't be able to fall back asleep and I NEED to sleep really badly because fuck I am tired, and what if my parents yell at me? Then I'll be pissed and DEFINITELY will be unable to fall back asleep. Wow.. that's a lot of stuff. I kind of feel like just lying here.. after all, it's just water. I'll live another few hours. Fuck that, forget it. But gosh, ugh, I'm really thirsty.."

And that's what it's like to be in my head. Every action I do, goes through that rigmarole of cyclical bullshit. It's exhausting and there's no rhyme or reason to it, it just goes through my head and I hate it so much. It makes doing anything at all incredibly challenging, because it's so hard to find motivation to do it when a simple activity has THAT MANY STEPS and possibilities. But then you feel like shit the longer you don't do it because you're too much a vapid waste of flesh to do a simple activity most people would have no problem doing, and the more you feel like shit the less you want to move.

I've heard from many, many people and read in a few of medical journals in waiting rooms that this is a very common sign of depression. I hate when people use depression as an excuse but honestly.. you can't help it. It's a chemical fucking imbalance in your brain. You can really only chalk that up to bad luck. You can't just wish seratonin into existence--emotions/feelings are just little molecules that go into receptors around your body and are picked up by your brain, firing all those neurons around at some insane speed. You don't have control over how much you have or where it goes. That's all autonomous shit. But it still affects your mental and physical processes VERY much, and there's really nothing you can do about it. Sure you can take drugs, but those can make it worse, and plus you're relying on something other than yourself to get yourself into a state you want to be in. That's a pretty big weakness, a pretty big liability, as well as a financial drain and seeing as how prices of drugs are only inflating.. ugh. And then, there's still nothing you can do about it. It's just fucking frustrating. It's bad luck, bad genes, it's not fair, not fair, not fair.

But there is nothing you can do about it. You can't wish yourself into feeling happiness, you can't wish yourself into not feeling like shit. If you feel like shit, you feel like shit. If you feel like crying, you feel like crying. You can lie to other people, but you can't lie to yourself, no matter how hard you try. You may as well try to will a broken arm into being not-broken. It isn't gonna work. It's too physical.

But this leaves me at a dead end. I don't know how to make myself work right. I don't have any dreams or aspirations in my life, which are what a lot of people strive for in their lives. Sure there's stuff I'd like to do--I'd like to be a musician, a writer, a pilot, a professional driver, an electrician, an architect, a valet, a bartender, a dancer, an oceanographer, a teacher, a mechanic, a graphic design artist, a manager, a factory worker, a construction worker, a lawyer, a computer specialist, and countless other things, but when it comes down to it, I ask myself if it's worth it, if I'd really be satisfied with those, and the answer is no. I just can't find the will power to want to start trying to get to be one of those things because, while they're interesting and would be fun, they aren't things I want to spend 2-8 years in training to do. They aren't worth that.

But in this world that's what you've got to do.

I guess it's just me complaining about how the world sucks and should be more how I want it to be, like every human being ever. It's not like I'm ever going to change it, and it certainly will never change for me. So it has to be me that makes the change, makes that journey of self-discovery and reevaluation. But where do I start?

What can I even do?

I don't know.

Living without dreams sucks. Seeing people around you have these great aspirations that they are passionate about and really enjoy and are excited for--it hurts. It makes you feel like you don't belong, like you're doing something wrong.

It makes you feel like you'll be left behind. Everyone will understand and have the courage and the audacity to move on, and you won't.

So you'll be left behind. And you know it, and no one will tell you wrong, because they know they will just as well as you do.

It just sucks when one of those people is your girlfriend.

It's always been really hard for me to find reasons to do things, as you read earlier if anyone has bothered to read this whole thing (sorry, whoever you are), and.. it's really, really nice to have someone, something to live for. Alyssa makes me happier than anything I can remember in my life, and whenever I think about her leaving me, it tears me up inside. Because I can see it too clearly. I've had nightmares about it. Nightmares that were too real, too tangible. Too possible. And she knows it could happen just as well as I do. It would be too easy to lose her, and I have a terrible feeling that if it were to end, I'd take it *so* much harder than she would. I don't like that. I don't like it at all. I've always been the one to do the breaking up. I don't know how I would take it if this ended. Especially if it were over Keene.

This is probably the most generic, human thing I've written in here in a while, and I don't care. Love is a very human emotion, and for once, I don't mind feeling that way. Walling yourself off and being numb all the time only seems good while you're there.. but it isn't natural for humans to be that way. Unfortunately, as illogical insane beings, we have a duty to fulfill our emotional needs as well as our physical. And even I'm not above those.

I just wish this vulnerable feeling wasn't so nauseating.

Most of the shit in here I'm sure I've ranted and talked about to anyone that reads this before, and I apologize. My brain likes to run in circles.. a lot. It would much rather see an obstacle and debate on ways to go around or over or through it than actually DO something about it. I want to change that about me so desperately, and the only obvious answer anyone is ever going to give me is "well.. do it!" If only it were that easy. Perhaps it is.

But this is only going to become more and more circular like, so I'll just end it here. I probably will continue to be unable to sleep despite pouring all these words out at 5 in the FUCKING morning, so maybe I'll add to it. Shrug.

Perhaps benadryl will help.

*conk*

Upon rereading that, I think I've actually regressed in age. That was an incredibly stream of consciousness entry. I thought I was above those.

It wasn't even that interesting.. god damn it. I suck. D:

fail :(

( Anger! )

I had the best New Years Eve of my life.

So far this has been the best start of a year I've ever experienced.

I hope it continues to be this way. =)

FUCK I HATE DELL SO FUCKING MUCH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, NRRRRRGHHHHHHH

It feels strange to feel so happy after so much depression for so long..

..and even stranger to feel happier by making someone else happy.

Strange.. but good.

:D

So I finished Watchmen in about 5 hours on Friday. That was fun.

( Spoilarz be here, for what it's worth.. )

That is all.



JUST KIDDING. IT'S BEEN TOO LONG.

"Mommy, that lady is smoking a cigarette because she's sad."

Annalise looked down with surprise at her daughter. The girl was prone to saying odd things, but this one was stranger than usual. Often, the statements were generalizations, but this time it was specific, about one person. Annalise looked up and across the street to the woman that her daughter was pointing at and noted that the woman was crying. Her eyeliner had run down her inner eyes, staining her otherwise lovely face.

"Mommy, why do tears make people so ugly? Sadness is beautiful." Annalise raised her eyebrows.

"What makes sadness beautiful? Most people consider sadness a bad thing."

"Sadness isn't bad. It's people that make it bad. Sadness is beautiful, like happiness. People just don't understand that because they're afraid." Annalise didn't know what to say.

"Why would anyone be afraid of sadness?"

"Because it's not happiness. People think that the only good feeling is happiness, but they're wrong. People don't know what good and bad are because they aren't real. They're just ideas, like love and hope and hate. Sadness is just as good as happiness, but people don't see it that way because people feel it when they don't get what they want. But if you learn to like sadness, then it's almost like happiness, and they're not very different. Then you can be happy almost all of the time." Again, Annalise had to search for words.

"If you're happy all the time, why don't you smile more often?"

"That's another thing about people. They think that a smile means you're happy but that's not true. Lots of people smile because they want people to think they're happy, because they're afraid to say that they're sad. They think saying it will make it more real, and they won't be able to change it. But that's wrong. They can change it, they just don't want to. That's why sometimes smiles are like lies. I don't like lies, mommy. Please don't ever lie to me." Annalise was taken aback.

"W--what? Why would I lie to you?"

"Because you're not like me. Everybody lies, even me sometimes, but I don't like it. Sometimes the truth gets all mixed up and I don't know what's true, but later when I can think thoughts again I can remember. You lie to me a lot, mommy--your eyes get watery and your forehead wrinkles a little. You lied about daddy and I know you lied about my life. Things don't always get better. You don't know that they will. You lied about your life, too. You lie all the time, about lots of things. But it's okay, because I still love you." ..What? How could a nine year old read this much of her? She was twenty-four years old, and her nine year old daughter was telling her things that her most intuitive suitors couldn't read even after years of knowing her. Not even her friends could spot her lies, but..

"I didn't lie about any of that, honey, that was all tr--"

"No! No it wasn't! None of it was true and you're lying again!"

"Ve--"

"No! I don't want to talk about it, mommy. It's okay if you're afraid, but please don't lie to me. You don't have to tell me, you can just not say anything. That's what I do instead of lying. It isn't the best but it's better."

"I'm sorry.. I just don't want to talk about those things with you. You aren't old enough to understand yet."

"Okay, mommy. You can tell me when you think I am." Annalise's daughter turned on her heel and looked up. "Hello, lady." Annalise looked up with her daughter and was shocked to see the woman with the cigarette standing there. She must have walked over during their conversation. The woman smiled slightly with the left corner of her mouth, and weakly raised her hand.

"Hi."

"Why are you so sad, lady?" Annalise wished she wouldn't be so forward with strangers, in--

"My husband was in a car accident. The dog and our cats were with him. They all died before the paramedics could save them."

"Are paramedics the people that come out of ambulances and save people?"

The lady dabbed at a daring tear. "Yes, they are."

"I'm sorry, lady." The girl said, and went right up to the woman's legs and put her arms around them, resting her cheek against the woman's thigh. The lady trembled for a moment, and then collapsed to the ground, knees pointed inwards, heels splayed. She was sobbing. Her shoulders heaved, and she hid her face in her hands. "Don't hide your face, lady! Your tears are beautiful." The woman stopped for a moment. She brought her face up to the girls, and looked into her eyes. The stare lasted a long time. Maybe for minutes. Annalise could only watch. There was an unusual tension in the air she hadn't felt from her daughter before.

After a few moments, the woman spoke. "Why are tears beautiful, little girl? What is so beautiful about this horrible feeling in my heart?"

"It's a feeling, lady. It means you love something in the world, and it means you can be happy again. It means that everything is going to be okay, lady. Tears are like little rain drops from clouds of sadness in our eyes. They come out and we can taste the sadness, and then it becomes happiness again. That's why it's beautiful, lady."

Nobody spoke for a long time. The woman stopped sobbing and Annalise stood, watching them. The girl stood with her arms limp at her sides, her eyes staring blankly into the woman's.

"How can you say that, little girl? Have you never felt like this? Nothing will ever be alright again! I've lost everything I ever cared about, and every reason to live. Tell me what's beautiful about that!" The woman laughed in scorn.

"You're angry because you're afraid of sadness, lady. But you can't do that. You can't be afraid of sadness. It hurts too much. You have to embrace it like a teddy bear and love it until it grows into happiness again. That's how I get better when I'm sad."

The woman shook her head. "How do you know any of this!? Look at my eyes! Look at them! Do you see how blue they are? It's because I'm miserable! They only get like that when I hate the world! I checked before I left, they're almost white! Can you tell me they aren't so bright, full of grief? Are you telling me THIS will turn into happiness?"

Annalise put a restraining hand on the woman's arm. "Please, stop! My daughter.. she's color blind. She can't see colors." The woman was silent.

"..so am I." The woman sat for a bit, then stood up and regained her posture. She pulled the left side of her coat up, and replaced her carrying bag on the other. She looked down at the girl for a while longer, and then right at Annalise. "She's going to grow up to be a beautiful, capable girl. I wish I could see her then." The woman rummaged in her bag and came out with a tattered old blue dog with a purple belly. Its left ear was a little torn, and its right ear was bent at an odd angle. It had a slight tear in the belly, and a small tuft of stuffing could be seen poking out. She knelt down and looked the girl in the eyes. "His name is Happiness. I want you to have him. I think he'll help you a lot more than it will help me now."

The girl nodded. "I think so too." The girl took the small stuffed animal in her hands, then hugged it to her chest. "Thank you, lady!" The woman smiled.

"What's your name, little girl, so I can have a name with the face of the owner of my only treasured possession left in this world?"

"My name is Sadness, lady. My name is Sadness."

And as the lady felt the pieces fall into place, one by one by one, she stood in helpless shock.

"Then.. I think it really does belong to you.." The woman whispered.

"What's your name?" Sadness asked.

"My name.. I don't have a name."

"You aren't lying. You don't have a name. But I'm going to give you a name."

The woman looked at her with a blank stare. "You're going to give me a name? Can you do that?"

"Yes. Your name is Happiness, lady. Just like your dog. Your name is Happiness."

And just as the girl said this last word, the woman's cell phone began to ring. She picked it up and answered, looking frantic. She didn't say anything, but kept nodding, until after a few minutes she mumbled "thank you" and hung up. She sat down again, and looked at the girl.

"Who was that?" Sadness asked.

"The.. the hospital called. They said--they said my husband is going to be okay."

Sadness nodded. "I know." She took Annalise's hand and started walking away from the woman, now named Happiness. Before she got too far, the lady shouted two words. The girl, without smiling, without seemingly even hearing them, turned her head, still walking, and said, quietly, "I know." She turned her head back around, and continued walking down the sidewalk, towards the setting sun. Her eyes were maybe a little more blue than they were before. Maybe they even contained a little sparkle. Sadness can do that.

But just a little.

------------------

Meh. I don't even know. Not where I expected the story to go. I'm kind of disappointed with it. Maybe I'll rewrite it sometime. Maybe I'll suddenly be content with it.

I don't know.

I guess we'll see.

..gamertags!

Yes. I bet you can't guess mine.

..an interesting phenomenon? Everyone sees and thinks something different based on their experience and genetics. How can you ever really see eye to eye? You can't, I suppose. So the answer lies in reconciliation.

But how does it work..?

On a different note, Steven Wilson's solo album was released not so long ago and I just got it. I must say, it is deliciously good. An excellent blend of all of the man's genius. Parts of it hearken back to the days of the Sky Moves Sideways, and there's definitely some Bass Communion in there, along with some of the insane instrumental wankery (No Twilight Within the Courtsof the Sun) found scattered throughout PT. It's lovely. =D

PS: I fucking hate you.

The season of bullshit and fucking hatred and misery is approaching rapidly, and people are following suit. This month is going to fucking suck. I can already tell.

BITTER JOY.

Also, Black Star is the shit. And fuck Keene for not letting me use library resources because their login system is a failure.

..when I find it slightly difficult to deal with how incredibly fucking awesome I am. Seriously, it gets to me sometimes.

But I will get through it, though. It's what I do!

No worries! =D