I don't know I shouldn't be feeling like this, I went into it with the greatest sense of control, I even had a backup plan of wearing a thick layer of sarcasm and imperviousness to all of life's miseries and realities. Laughing harder than usual, bigger jokes, better flaunts, big gapping steps, and the arrows came flying like missiles straight for the softest muscle in any human beings body. Maybe its the sum of a couple of things that make me feel this way, still I felt strangely left apart, awkward at some times, like I was with friends, but then again like I was alone, maybe my only problem these past few days has been that I've been numb, or happy, something like that. Sadness just pulls the chords in my heart and makes me want to sing, or else Im as quiet as a dusty out of tune instrument. Anyways, today I just feel out of place, not really ready to go back, to country land. This whole month taken for granted, I didn't get anything accomplished, am I mourning something, have I lost something, so why am I acting like this when I have everything to look forward to. Atleast one thing is looking up Im starting to care about my physical appearance again, if its through arrogance and superficiality Im going to gain back my confidence, so be it, I never got much accomplished from being honest. My honesty is inarticulate, confusing and contradictory, who would think truth could be as complicated as that. I always push away people because I can rarely say what I want to say, and now I am slowly starting to realize that fate doesn't want me to speak much of my mind, its better that way, and Im left alone to sort out my own misery, and I create a work of therapy, where as from sharing any of these beliefs I only create destruction and mistrust. Its a long time since Ive wrote, and it shows, I even question my next words, its as if Im having a conversation with someone, carefully choosing my words in one moment, spurting out complete nonsense in my careless caution sometimes. So my writing contains no 'truth' then, just lies lies the likes of a fool's cries against the darkened sky.
Usually Im filled with so much useless energy and ambition around this time of year, and full of hope, that's ready to be plummelled to the ground. This year is starting out in a reverse, I feel blank, but then at the end of the summer I always feel blank, I gain some maturity and realization around the winter, the bitter melancholy winter. It's my favorite season though, now that I think about it, I can't wait, that cold frigid chill that takes the leaves, blankets the world, puts you to sleep early, closets all bring warm hopes and dreams. This time around I have felt very little in the last few days, but I feel strangely whole, that I have everything, and that I am making critical changes, realizing things, quieting my mind more and observing. Which is really unusual, that I am starting to calm and start to mold myself because thats what you do when you grow I suppose.
Oh the fate of a writer always discovered by those that come after.
Yeah it was a shitty day. I told myself of every possible situation just to prepare for the let down, but it didn't help, let downs are like that, they come on you anyway. What I don't get it is, that I don't know why I didnt get it, I deserved it, but then I can almost answer my own question. It makes me fear life, fear my accomplishments, almost like I can profess to be this or that, but on paper it shows much less. It scares me to death, and it might just explain my low sense of ambition. Give me a quiet room, something to do, something to write about, time to think about it, and I'll be happy. I try to be like all these other people, and it just doesn't work out, it just doesn't work out. Im worried about my state of health these days, back pain, my voice, a headache tonight, what's happening to me, don't I have enough days where I think about aging as it is?
Does this disappointment have any meaning, is it trying to challenge me to face my semester, full of hope, full of determination and perseverance, tear it down to nothing, till I meet my old nemesis in winter? Oh I hate the winter, cold, frigid, lonely, christmas, new years, my birthday, a string of happy times that make me feel like the empty is closer to my heart each year.
Nothing to write, lately nothing that captures my mind, what is this, change or just writer's block? Has this medium run dry? The worst thing is, in desperation you seek comfort in the things that could corrupt you, or drug you for a moment, but this time I just feel hopeless, I expect the sadness to eat me, to emcompass me...whole, then nothing.
I just wish I could do something more productive with these times, I think I realized that I go on and on about how I am so good at changing things, and I contemplate things for hours on end, well with the exception of the longest recently there has ever been. I don't contemplate much, except last weekend when I felt like I was really alive. The truth is Im really afraid to make the real changes, the changes that really matter, Id much rather sulk about it and write stupid parodies and analogies about how much of a pitiable pathetic loser I am. Isn't it so much easier to do that then actually work at it? Working at it would make me much busier than I have the time now to write about nonsense like this.
Well no its not nonsense, its thereupeutic.
Recently I have been trying to purge things in my life, that I think have been hindering me. Like relationships and people, I have been pretty anti-social, I'll smile at someone but Im reluctant to really talk to them. Maybe I don't pick up the signals, maybe there aren't any really. I just feel like Im not ready to share my life with anyone, its nice to share the things that are nice, but even I have run out of ideas to recount them, Im trying to find them out myself.
Great movie, Garden State, I could really relate to Large. I remember when I was on celexa and that 60 mg of sleeping pills that felt like I was a zombie, that was worse then the pain that I felt, when you're on that much medication, why would you want to live, what is there to live for, you don't feel anything. This is going to be a few months of searching, I know it, I hope for it, I just hope I find something worth lasting for.
Im so creative right now. Extremely high, so I don't know, Ive never tried this before, writing when Im extremely high, man I can't even believe that im able to reach the keys, haha, see how high i am? like seriously im still able to type pretty fast, not bad. it was a good night, i think i realized whats really important in my life, the arts, photography, music, oh especially music, i was just thinking about the time that me and my brother were walking on front street, and it was the busker's festival. it was amazing, that music that they were playing, how it was making the ground reverberate, and the bass had so many dimensions, its like left a audio impression in my mind. i feel like after being with natacha, it has really made me extremely bland, i dont write anymore, for a minute there i had started thinking that writing wasnt for me, that i was growing out of it, but man how can i? Im creative, its in me, its all im good for, and who cares whether its good or not, or whether anyone really understands it, the point is, is that its for me, a release. we all need that, some way to understand life dont we? dont we all have moments where we sit and think about the loneliness? wow im really diverging.. i do miss how experimental i used to be when i was young, i was trying to discover myself in my writing, do different things, go to a different place in my mind, and express it with words. i had a pretty good night, oh that story, have to go back to it, it was amazing, that guy was playing some weird instrument, i cant even remember, he was plucking it, and it was like going through an amp and a mixer if im not mistaken. whatever it sounded awesome, i think they wer from new zealand or australia, sounded very aboriginal.
I think I realized why I don't write on here anymore, its because I have very few of these pent up thoughts that need to get out. It's as if they don't play around in my head anymore, vying for importance or sophistication. They are so much more quiet now, subdued, by what, that is what bothers me. Articulate; huh, what's that worth anyway, I don't know, some people say you are, others wish you were more clearer, and it seems always you are left with a feeling of regret that you couldn't some how reach that perfection in explaining a point, maybe even a sense of pursuing the lost cause.
On a more happier, well not happier necessarily but more introspective note, I was in the large lecture hall today, and there was this girl who was playing on the piano, and I recognized the music, it sounded distinctly Chopin, and I didn't want to interrupt her, but it was a strange feeling, my eyes were just welling up at the sound of every note. It felt embarrassing because I was out in public, and it seemed as if I wasn't permitted to feel like that, feelings such as those are reserved for the dark solitude or atleast the shadows that hide the glazed look in your eyes when everything is blurry from...well
How can I think, have these individual thoughts, when I am always being wrenched away from feeling lonely, from feeling depressed, that process that I go through, when I realize everything about me is false, and I don't have a choice in that moment, but to cry, sing something, enough to get me to sleep, and somehow thinking and thinking about it eventually finds me to a solution, or to a new remedy. I don't even know. Its like this, this whole process, when I write about it, I know that its stupid, I know that I am self-deprecating. Its a habit, it almost feels good, to justify something, something so freeing as hitting yourself where it hurts, mentally, by demeaning that part of you that almost nobody can touch unless you let them, by disfiguring what is pure inside of you, you justify the pain, and it feels like something good came out of something that was initially wrong. Its funny Ive never put it into those words, but it makes so much sense, it makes sense why it's such a habit, why the steep climb down is so satisfying, why you are so willing to let yourself willingly trip and fall free, without a sense of caution or reprieve(it is weird how sometimes words come to my mind without me having to even think upon them, and then I realize that I was using them in a proper context).
So anyway, this girl, that music, I realized how incredible those notes were, how it just kind of jerked me out of reality and into this world, which I had forgotten. It is hard to explain, music is on another realm like that, atleast for me, it can put me in a place where I don't recall much, or have interest for much aside from that moment of enjoyment when each note sends shivers through me, and my body almost yearns to carry that same tune, like a love affair, which promises to sync two things together, but it is hardly the case, and yet the hearbreak is the sweetest tasting misery there ever was.
Lets be serious, I am afraid to be wrong, I hate finding faults in me, that seem so simple to someone else and yet they are oblivious to me even at the moment that they enter my mind for the first time. Its an awful feeling, a feeling accompanied by helplessness, loneliness, because it is solely your own burden to carry. It takes time to come to grip with it, and it is a feeling that doesnt leave you with any room for a choice, even if you always liked to believe that. And I think it is the worst realization, it is like the devastation and the shock, because there really is very little for you to do but wait, and that is the hardest thing, waiting for something to happen.
You know its okay if you're planning on the worst
Just promise me
You'll wait till the end of the night
Or for a good fight
If you're......
What did I use to say? Ahh...unfinished tendencies as good as anybody to please. Whatever that meant, if Im quoting myself right even.
Waiting, waiting
Autumn's chill
A back to lean on
Frozen in front of the phone
For a call that's long hibernating
As sure as the snow falls
Since you went away
Coffee stains
Used toothbrush
The nights are long
Bedside table neat and tidy
Kitchen floor thats soft full
Passages of kleanex
Strewn on the floor
Found myself baking a cake
Like I wished I had last year
When promises were near
And yet to be realized
The broken mirrors
A new one
For each reflection disliked
And every day passing by
Unfocus my eyes
Try to find the right path
A way past you
I often put a lot of faith or weight in people. My biggest vice has always been my reaction to people who show an incredible sense of competence or intelligence or articulation in their convictions. Anyways, I often find myself shy and unable to speak my mind or my opinions because I feel that they are cliche, unsupported and invalidated. Then there's the other side of course, where I am an arrogant prick and I get caught. But concerning mainly with the fact that I am a strange way with people of high stature, professionals, professors mainly these days, as in because this is the environment which consumes my life mostly. But they often disappoint me, or in most cases I end up disappointing them, and teachers who I never really get to know I somehow make it through. I dont know in a way, now that I think about it, its something that has plagued me all through school. It is better that a professor makes no remarks about me, and I am safer in a way, as soon as they show interest in me, I almost feel ashamed as if it was a wrong thing, or that how could they say anything nice about me when I am destined for failure. But the case that has mostly affected me today, is the fact that sometimes they disappoint me as well. I mean I really felt that people were surprised by the ending today, and I think I was right, and he didn't even seem like he was interested in what I had to say. Atleast he remembered my remark earlier about his class. Perhaps I am just hoping for too much. Perhaps he just thinks Im a stupid student who needs a little friendly criticism, maybe I dont take criticisms well. But no, I put up posters almost everywhere possible, who is he to say, and it mustve been his stupid friend who said that he didnt see any, what is he fucking blind? Of course he would be, even I rarely notice most of the posters, who does, theres a fucking barage of them, I am so angry and disappointed in myself, I could hardly contain it, trying to keep a straight face. Is it my fault that people tear up and move and cover my posters? Ill put them up in more places, sure, but its a fucking mess, I mean, people dont care, its like vying for a space to have your say, everyone wants to, what am I supposed to do amidst all that? And the disorganization? Now that was a ignorant remark, what does he know, I come almost an hour early to set up, I think Im better set up than the last person ever was. I know the equipment, does anyone know that I even tampered with the sound, no of course not, people just say their 2 cents worth without ever evaluating anything. Is it my fault that the fucking security FORGOT? Bunch of lay persons if I ever saw any. Signs, what more signs does he want? Does he want me to flood the school with posters for a stupid event that will be covered or missed? I don't understand, friendly criticism, my ass. I wish I could tell him a thing or two, ..... sigh.... I don't know maybe Im making a big deal of all this, I probably am, Im touchy I know. I just felt like I wanted to talk to him, I thought he was an interesting professor, but I just felt like he was looking down on me the whole time or something, as if I wasn't doing a good job. And I was stupid enough not to contest any of that, because I think that people are smarter than me so they can treat me any way they want. The worst part is, I am really concerned with impressions, what people think, and now that I feel that he is disappointed in me, its bothering me, and I think it leads me to failure, its easier for me to fail, if I feel a person expects it of me, isnt that crazy? Its true I think. Isn't that interesting, how I realize the more I try to run away from my past, the more it is a part of me. Sometimes I wonder.... all this doubt, do the layers I have put on show their original color, do I let them fade too much? Well atleast now that Ive said my piece, maybe I can find some peace.
I don't know today, I feel like I fell out of the sky suddenly and Im kind of lost. I have so much to do, yet I feel like I don't. Im unbridled, in the desert, that kind of feeling. I just want to write like that, like the words you write are the ones you would wear, your comfort, your identity.
Sometimes you feel you have to let rage and anger into your heart, it feels so good, as good as sadness, except it doesnt drain you as much, you feel you can feed the fire, burn everything in one moment. Keep going, scream till your voice is gone, torch your soul with anger. Sadness is too slow, its too meek, anger is a creature that could be unleashed. Sadness is like a slow release, its the more beautiful of the two, even happiness is reckless, it makes you sick, but anger, oh yeah you need it sometimes, destroy everything. Its the only one that feels better when more people are involved, rage, letting the evil into your heart, it feels so good, if you stop to think about it, you ruin the trip, you remember how empty you are, because anger allows you to live off anothers pain and anguish once you are finished with your own. Let me out!!!
My voice achieved such clarity and depth today I felt. I just felt like it wasn't straining me to sing at all. Sing a song to clear the mind. Oh what a great feeling. I haven't really been paying much attention to myself thats true. I haven't really come on this page to speak my thoughts. I really couldn't do too much without it. For the most part it is pretty private, I suppose. In any case, I felt I needed a little visit to myself today, the reaches of my stressed out mind. So many things to do, oh and some kept secrets from the people close to me. I just felt something missing today I guess. Now that Im here I have a lot to say, and then again, I don't know where to begin. I have been really happy the last few days, the last month. There's a good reason for that, but I also have been paying little attention to myself I think. Well with school and everything, its kind of hard to, especially at this point. Anyways, I guess thats all I wanted to say, I had a good day with my voice, and its my own little moment, and thats all that was missing these last few days I suppose.
When you are truly alone, you realize that all those things you promised yourself to bring you happy were broken at best. You find it hard to renew them and it doesn't help to resolve anything by using lines that you read in some book. It brings the insanity that breathes in all of us longing to die out into the surface. There are so many of us that stumble into this place and are never able to face it ever again until death comes knocking in olds age. So few have the courage to walk in the black forest to find pur shadow in the pitch night. Our voices cast arrows into the winds of which we hear but none brush against our tingling bubbly skin. I guess here it is we search for what makes us live, what tells us we are living, no God walks this path, there is no silver lining light, we only walk out of the forest when we find the desire to, for the forest atleast brings comfort, it wears no mask like the rest of the world hides its misery in treasure boxes gaping for our bodies to but stumble into the edge and failing falling, forever. I have seen this forest, I don't recall walking it, its as if I cannot imagine the need ever, yet each step has left a spear in my memory. I can say I walked out of the forest somehow, the darkness behind me and faced the world.
I don't like this place much, something about it has lost its charm, or maybe my demons like to return every now and then and tell me they havent forgotten anything, or maybe I just like to willingly invite them. They do bring such comfort because they are so familiar and my mind fights them, yet I submit, and the night tells me to close my eyes, and in the morning, the battle is but... I lose my train of thought too often, Im too afraid to walk into that forest again, my mind is weak. Lately death scares me and I think about it quite often, it slips into my mind every now and then when I am interspersed in other thoughts, what a strange occurrence. The cold dark scares me, but I refuse to give into an answer, the mystery is more comforting then all the answers in the world.
I don't even feel like talking to anyone, nor do I think anyone can bring me comfort right now, and my head is just hurting, just another thorn in my side.
Safety
Take it slow
Play it cautiously
On the radio
The shore grows old
No rest
Till I feel the sand's touch
Against my skin
Your soft hands
Naked mind
Makes Time weep
Each shadow on my face
Has a color
Helps to cleanse this guilt
Away;
Like the notes
That bounce hard
From conscience to conscience
Leaving its footprint
The way is shrouded
How they call me
Always in that cold voice
Pierced straight through my heart
The very end of each sentence
Its bloody sight
Grotesques me
The lonely traitor
Slithers in through
Any defences
I have seen
What's in store
Really no other way
But quietly
Carefully
Without a sound
Swiftly now
The last act
Fall to the ground
This site has become such a farce, I am afraid to speak my dark mind.
The nice thing about Nick Drake is the way he can give you a hug when no one else doesn't know what to say. The pain and sorrow that is in his voice is so beautiful, because its not about him, its about how we all feel it in the world and it is really part of living. I don't think its the happy moments that make you feel alive at all, but the feelings of loss, of pain, those are the ones we stride towards knowingly.
The truth is, and its something I can't tell anyone really, I don't feel that anyone has to hear it, there's no point, its my own burden. I am a bit bitter, and I realize now that I try to keep telling myself that strength comes from independence and yet I keep this hidden belief that I can get closer to someone by sharing my mind with them. Sometimes you just don't know what to say. And I remember why I fell into this abyss in the first place, this place reminds me of what it took away from me. Its hard to fight the demons that are here, the old ones. In my sleep last night, I have this battle attitude, but I am scared for the most part. I thought I heard a sharp scream ring in my ears, and I was coming out of a dream but I forced myself to sleep, and yet my breath must have been shaking, the sheets felt cold, but the place I went to with eyes closed was the most secure place then. It is hard not to feel like you are falling when you are back here. I remember sitting on the computer listening to music, singing in my own way, when everyone was downstairs, I felt the most comfort, something like my own little sanctuary.
that feeling
when i reach the end of the stream
Its Fallen gaping mouth
Head towards the lowest point/depth?
Feet in flight
Falling/Plagued from the sky
Heart levied
Crushing chests
Beating lungs
Last Breath
Going under
Why did I say it
(No way to go back)
You wouldn't understand
A drowning burial
To a wasted idea
I want to take you to a place, but you're nowhere to be found. My second guessing is getting me nowhere, the volume won't reach anymore, tired, holding myself, find my way inside. Your face, this desert is wearing me out, and you're leaving me dry once again.
Somewhere along the line, you tend to forget those important things, you take them for granted. They are oh so wonderful when you meet, because they are old, or hidden and just waiting to come out, but it can be just so difficult when there's someone else involved and you're trying to find something new, a new pattern, to keep prying at muscle and bone, to see what really lives underneath. It can be a little easier to do it by yourself, keep those thoughts to yourself, never having to explain them, just feeling them, is so much easier. The question of being with someone and having to discuss those sometimes mysterious, sometimes ugly feelings can be all but heart wrenchingly painful. It seems unnatural, it is so much easier to do something else. I don't think I am asking for too much, I live like that, I get bored if I am not constantly ripping myself apart and searching, searching, I guess I don't have the patience to idly observe, even if I do observe, I have to dramatize it, put it to detailed imagery, metaphorical synthesis. These doubts, doubts that have survived with me through the week, I can't shake them off, I have moments of power, where I envision freedom from them, and I feel as if they really feel their fastening power diminishes, but in a way I willingly invite them to my door like some post-withdrawl.
But how can you possibly have these things on your own, can you? I suppose so, in my nature, I would become reclusive wouldnt I? But isnt that what Ive been doing all this time? Its been fine, why am I getting restless, is it the winter chill?