hysteria (n) : A nervous affection, occurring almost exclusively in women, in which the emotional and reflex excitability is exaggerated, and the will power correspondingly diminished, so that the patient loses control over the emotions, becomes the victim of imaginary sensations, and often falls into paroxism or fits.
i know. i've not written for a week.. well, nearly two. writing takes inspiration, you know, and sadly enough there aren't many persons/things capable of inspiration in this life. my mind isn't being so overactive anymore.. could two simple journal entries have cured that? let's hope not - that would be absurd. i love to write, i yearn for it, yet i've nothing to say.. and if not for that then it's just a case of laziness. motivational inspiration, thats what i need. yes.
i'm drowning in myself. drowning in life - reality is suffocating me and human kind is making me nauseous. there's just too much stuff i need to do and not enough motivation to make me do it. and there's too many people that depend on me for things that it's nearly impossible to control. i love my friends, i love them all to no end and i'd do anything i could for them, but even so, there's only so much a person can give. i have a couple of friends that depend on me with their life - literally, and they're both in poor mental health as of late. it's rather frightening to think that the lives of two out of the handful of people i hold dearest in my heart are in my hands.. one wrong move could cause the life of someone i love to cease and it'd be on my head. one slip of the tongue, one sentence taken the wrong way, one bad mood, even a petty argument. i'm walking on eggshells and everyone is waiting for me to fall. to my friends: whatever makes you happy, whatever makes you sane - i'm here for your abuse.
i've only written two paragraphs? i feel like i've written a novel because i can't think of anything more to say. i'm working on getting about 20 poems/songs typed up (if i can gather up enough money for a black ink cartridge) to send off to a publisher. i must say i don't have much hope, i don't feel that i write well enough for it to go anywhere. i do admit that i think some of the things i've written is rather good for someone like me - that's just it though: it's ~ good for *someone like me* ~. i know people personally who write better than i, incredibly talented writers that are better and younger than i, and this isn't giving me any hope. i mean, if i've got friends that i think write better why should anyone want to pay for a book filled with poetry and writing of someone such as i? i, a nobody from nowhere with nothing at all. *shrugs* i'm giving it a shot anyway, it's the only thing in the world i can think of that i'd want to do with my life. it seems to be the only decent thing, as other things deal with advanced technology and future and government and getting rich quick - things that i don't look forward to nor can i stand thinking about. "When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue- you sell him a whole new life." --Christopher Morley... this is something that i like to believe.
purely pessimistic,
--dee
entry #3