The final sound, or my last words to you.
Coward.
I thought that I could trust you. You never gave any indication that I couldn't. How do you justify it to yourself? Did you think that leaving me alone would be good for me? That I was too dependent? Fool. I wanted you around not because I was desperate, but because I thought I'd found someone that I could be completely open with. I know how to be alone. It doesn't scare me, and I'm proud that I can stand alone. But I thought that you were different, that you of everyone would understand. You deceived me. Isn't it said that the worst circle of hell is reserved for traitors and heretics? Then you'll burn for this. And if your hell is real then I will as well. But I'd rather burn as a witch than a traitor. And you had better hope, no, pray, that your god forgives you for this.
I never will.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
You were asleep so quickly, and I was left almost alone. The songs were there to keep me company. His voice and the water swept me up and I became Ophelia, floating, disintegrating on my way down into something darker. The flowers aren’t so sweet, you know. Lovely but they cause me pain. Someone forgot to cut the thorns from my white roses. The reds hurt so much I threw them far from me. Fear woke before me but you didn’t hear a thing. It was silent then, but for me speaking to no one. The knife wasn’t there to cut anything, it was there to threaten. To make a very certain point. To tell me to get used to the feeling. It never ends, you know. I was looking for the door as well, but like the same tragic, hopeless one, it never appeared. There was no door. My mind’s not made up to do anything, only wait and decide at the last moment. If there is another moment left.
Conversations
Words are something I haven’t given in a long time. I…can’t find them sometimes. It’s easy not to exist, do you know that? It’s easy not to feel, not to care. I’m sorry. I never left. All you had to do was call for me, and I’d be there, no questions asked. I’d do anything for you, but sometimes I feel unneeded. I don’t want to disappear like all the others. I don’t want to die from being forgotten. Why were we even reminded of what we lost? We could have done something, anything at all, to save the one we loved, still love, even after all this time! A short time together in bittersweet love, would that even count as a love? Is that the closest thing we have to actually having someone?
I know. He could have loved me. He could have loved us. Maybe, in time, we’d forget what it was that we were looking for. I’d learn how to be unafraid again. I’d actually be able to help someone, someone who would accept all of me, who would trust me to return the love and trust given. Is that so much to want? We could have had it! It was floated in front of our faces and then it was snatched away, god reconsidering a promise. I want what I was promised! I want what we could have had.
Conversations
Words are something I haven’t given in a long time. I…can’t find them sometimes. It’s easy not to exist, do you know that? It’s easy not to feel, not to care. I’m sorry. I never left. All you had to do was call for me, and I’d be there, no questions asked. I’d do anything for you, but sometimes I feel unneeded. I don’t want to disappear like all the others. I don’t want to die from being forgotten. Why were we even reminded of what we lost? We could have done something, anything at all, to save the one we loved, still love, even after all this time! A short time together in bittersweet love, would that even count as a love? Is that the closest thing we have to actually having someone?
I know. He could have loved me. He could have loved us. Maybe, in time, we’d forget what it was that we were looking for. I’d learn how to be unafraid again. I’d actually be able to help someone, someone who would accept all of me, who would trust me to return the love and trust given. Is that so much to want? We could have had it! It was floated in front of our faces and then it was snatched away, god reconsidering a promise. I want what I was promised! I want what we could have had.
Monday, September 18, 2006
This may seem a bit confusing, but these are large parts of my journal that I'm putting in here. Just to explain.
And if you tilt it just right, just so, there it is again, the full spectrum. But only if you let your eyes go properly wonky. And there, right there, is a touch of hot pink. How delightful. The only light I have is from one of those little lamps that you have only to touch to turn on. That, and this frightfully harsh, glaring screen. Seriously, I can’t look properly mysterious when I look so owlish.
And if you turn up the light enough, you won’t see any of our supposed flaws at all, you’ll be simply blinded, simply and gloriously blinded. And maybe, just maybe, the fluid in your eyes will start to boil, and rupture through, and run down your cheeks in a scalding clear gel.
It nearly stops my heart every time I happen upon it by accident, such a shock it gives, but such a soothing image once I adjust. You can’t really deny it, that this is what I rely on, health and sanity. Give me just a few more seconds and you just might save me from myself. I’d like that, if it just lifted me up and wrapped me up, and nobody ever saw me again, and that was all I had. I could live, hanging there with just the sound of it forever. All I really need to survive is his voice, surrounding me. I don’t even really need to see his face, though he is lovely, just have his voice around me forever.
I wanted to take a look at you and see something nobody else sees, nobody else would know, and keep it for myself. I swear, with all that I have, that I would not tell a soul. I’m not asking you to be with me, only to trust me, so that I can be real to you. That is all I really want. I was forgotten by the one that could see me, like an imaginary friend, and I need a new child to believe in me. Will you be so credulous? Will you be so gullible? Will you remember that I am alive?
I told you not to tell me the reason I feared that you were there for. But, like all the things I told you, you didn’t listen much. You told me that you were there to jump. I was there for the view. You know, I went back to that place yesterday, when you were away. I didn’t want you to know how weak I was. I looked over the edge, and thought of what you must have been thinking when you were there. You know, I could almost see my reflection in the water below me. Could you see yourself that day? Did you not see anyone with you? Because I couldn’t see anyone with me. But there I was, on the edge, and what did I see but you walking toward me. We stood together on the edge, and I could see us in the water. We stood together on the brink of nothingness, and it was everything we could have wanted. We didn’t say a word, but we stood there and knew each other’s thoughts. I leaned out, but you didn’t move. You didn’t need to. As surely as you had pulled a rope I came back. I told you that I wasn’t there for that. But you said that I was. I had to at least see it, and in a way, I did jump. But you were there, and you pulled me back. I wonder who pulled you back.
And if you tilt it just right, just so, there it is again, the full spectrum. But only if you let your eyes go properly wonky. And there, right there, is a touch of hot pink. How delightful. The only light I have is from one of those little lamps that you have only to touch to turn on. That, and this frightfully harsh, glaring screen. Seriously, I can’t look properly mysterious when I look so owlish.
And if you turn up the light enough, you won’t see any of our supposed flaws at all, you’ll be simply blinded, simply and gloriously blinded. And maybe, just maybe, the fluid in your eyes will start to boil, and rupture through, and run down your cheeks in a scalding clear gel.
It nearly stops my heart every time I happen upon it by accident, such a shock it gives, but such a soothing image once I adjust. You can’t really deny it, that this is what I rely on, health and sanity. Give me just a few more seconds and you just might save me from myself. I’d like that, if it just lifted me up and wrapped me up, and nobody ever saw me again, and that was all I had. I could live, hanging there with just the sound of it forever. All I really need to survive is his voice, surrounding me. I don’t even really need to see his face, though he is lovely, just have his voice around me forever.
I wanted to take a look at you and see something nobody else sees, nobody else would know, and keep it for myself. I swear, with all that I have, that I would not tell a soul. I’m not asking you to be with me, only to trust me, so that I can be real to you. That is all I really want. I was forgotten by the one that could see me, like an imaginary friend, and I need a new child to believe in me. Will you be so credulous? Will you be so gullible? Will you remember that I am alive?
I told you not to tell me the reason I feared that you were there for. But, like all the things I told you, you didn’t listen much. You told me that you were there to jump. I was there for the view. You know, I went back to that place yesterday, when you were away. I didn’t want you to know how weak I was. I looked over the edge, and thought of what you must have been thinking when you were there. You know, I could almost see my reflection in the water below me. Could you see yourself that day? Did you not see anyone with you? Because I couldn’t see anyone with me. But there I was, on the edge, and what did I see but you walking toward me. We stood together on the edge, and I could see us in the water. We stood together on the brink of nothingness, and it was everything we could have wanted. We didn’t say a word, but we stood there and knew each other’s thoughts. I leaned out, but you didn’t move. You didn’t need to. As surely as you had pulled a rope I came back. I told you that I wasn’t there for that. But you said that I was. I had to at least see it, and in a way, I did jump. But you were there, and you pulled me back. I wonder who pulled you back.
Believe me when I say that I trust you, but this is what I know. This is the only way that I know to save myself. I may be just out of sight, but I will never leave. If you want to find me, you have only to look where it is cold. This is how I preserve myself. I will hide in the ice, in the cold, where the things that have been done do not hurt me. This is nothing you have done on purpose, it is just that there are some things that cannot be given. I told you, I learn not to want the things I cannot have. This is something I now know that I cannot have. Strangely, this realization did not take me long to uncover. Three days, maybe four, and I almost don’t feel a thing when I think of you. You are still my friend, I still want to help you, and make it so you don’t cry anymore, but I know that you…that you like someone else. This is always the case. I end up looking like a stupid kid looking for attention, and they feel sorry for me, or they laugh at me. It almost scares me that this isn’t a hard thing for me to do. I’m so good at this, turning it off. I’m so good at not caring, and not feeling when I don’t. I wonder why sometimes I feel really happy for no good reason, but I realize that some of these times I must not feel anything at all. I am past hurting myself to feel something, the numbness is something I like. Perhaps I should tell someone, but perhaps I don’t want to bother. I look at Davey and feel like I can be fine if he can. He is surviving, so can I. He is strong. I know I feel like I’m sleeping, but I can’t think of one damn reason to wake up. Perhaps it doesn’t matter whether I ever wake up or not. My friend told me that there will be a time when I can want something again, when I don’t have to block it out. I don’t know if I can believe that, not now. The hope is wounding. If I can stop hoping, then I can get on with everything else. Despite what I may say, I don’t think that anyone really notices the things I don’t do. Now that I consider it, I know why a certain person has not called me. I am not the same person, there is nothing left of me but screams, just like Davey said. But he was wrong. Nobody can love the screams. But can’t anyone realize, that I don’t want to be like this? I don’t like being pathetic and left behind. I don’t like begging for attention. I don’t like myself much.
Don’t you see, see this at all, that what I am and what you see are never the same? You see me go insane and dance on the city streets, but that is so I don’t fall down in them and stay there. I laugh and scream so that I am not silent. I fear that if I ever slow down, if only for a moment, I will stop. I will simply lose momentum and fall over. I will sleep all day, like the day someone threw that wall into my face. I was so shocked, so floored that I couldn’t get up, couldn’t even speak for a while. I slept most of that day because I didn’t know how to get up again. Then, just like nothing ever happened, I got up, because I made myself forget what was keeping me down. I blocked it out, just like a thousand times before. One by one I learn to live without the things I thought I was entitled to. One by one I see that those that have them never really earned them, never really appreciate them. She can have him. In the end I will have him longer, if not in the same way. Girlfriends come and go, but I will always be there. I do not demand affection, just company, nothing more than they want from me. That is the only capacity that I can fill, the only one where nothing is required. I want to help, I try, I want to more than anything. But I’m afraid that a certain someone was right. I can only truly serve myself. I can never give anyone what they want or deserve. It is not that I am unwanted, no. Many want me around and enjoy my company. But not one of them needs me. It could be anyone else, anyone at all. I like to think that when I let them down it won’t matter much. I will be replaced quickly. I can’t see it happening any other way. I’m sorry. I can’t finish.
Don’t you see, see this at all, that what I am and what you see are never the same? You see me go insane and dance on the city streets, but that is so I don’t fall down in them and stay there. I laugh and scream so that I am not silent. I fear that if I ever slow down, if only for a moment, I will stop. I will simply lose momentum and fall over. I will sleep all day, like the day someone threw that wall into my face. I was so shocked, so floored that I couldn’t get up, couldn’t even speak for a while. I slept most of that day because I didn’t know how to get up again. Then, just like nothing ever happened, I got up, because I made myself forget what was keeping me down. I blocked it out, just like a thousand times before. One by one I learn to live without the things I thought I was entitled to. One by one I see that those that have them never really earned them, never really appreciate them. She can have him. In the end I will have him longer, if not in the same way. Girlfriends come and go, but I will always be there. I do not demand affection, just company, nothing more than they want from me. That is the only capacity that I can fill, the only one where nothing is required. I want to help, I try, I want to more than anything. But I’m afraid that a certain someone was right. I can only truly serve myself. I can never give anyone what they want or deserve. It is not that I am unwanted, no. Many want me around and enjoy my company. But not one of them needs me. It could be anyone else, anyone at all. I like to think that when I let them down it won’t matter much. I will be replaced quickly. I can’t see it happening any other way. I’m sorry. I can’t finish.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
I feel like I'm about to faint.
This heat is overwhelming, and any attempt at thought just seems to die in birth.
I'm not trying too hard, for fear that the monster may emerge to gnaw my brain for its impudence. "Do not defy me! Obey! I shall sink my teeth into your grey matter and laugh when you writhe!"
There seems to be an oppressive heat on the inside of my skull, festering and boiling until I wish my brain would turn to cold, wet clay. That would be pleasant.
This heat is overwhelming, and any attempt at thought just seems to die in birth.
I'm not trying too hard, for fear that the monster may emerge to gnaw my brain for its impudence. "Do not defy me! Obey! I shall sink my teeth into your grey matter and laugh when you writhe!"
There seems to be an oppressive heat on the inside of my skull, festering and boiling until I wish my brain would turn to cold, wet clay. That would be pleasant.
It's supposed to rain today. I really would like a thunderstorm, the heat is too much for me. I would also like to spend today being sick and angry, listening to cello music. I feel a bout of depression coming on, but not the bad kind, just the kind where I'm a little melancholy.
People are irritating me more than usual, especially the ones who are falsely nice, or the ones who want something from me. The one I've mentioned who keeps hitting on me, and doesn't even know me as a person. I'm just a little bit digusted. I think that I despise her.
I hate people who want to be your friend just because you're pretty or have something they want. Can't you like someone for who they are? For something that matters?
I'm listening to Love Will Tear Us Apart and feeling sick. Well, Bowie will cheer me up, but the feeling doesn't quite go away.
I don't like this! I don't want to feel so uncertain. Nor do I like reverting to teen-angst mode like this! Why can't I have something solid?
Humans have a naturally feral nature, but somewhere along the way we became social creatures. Who is to say that I have to succumb to habit and deal with them?
Who is to say that I must be a part of what they stand for?
I feel this helpless throbbing, a panic spiraling down my spine, taking my breath with it.
Spiraling down into the dark water like my dreams. I look up and see someone who couldn't have helped me.
People are irritating me more than usual, especially the ones who are falsely nice, or the ones who want something from me. The one I've mentioned who keeps hitting on me, and doesn't even know me as a person. I'm just a little bit digusted. I think that I despise her.
I hate people who want to be your friend just because you're pretty or have something they want. Can't you like someone for who they are? For something that matters?
I'm listening to Love Will Tear Us Apart and feeling sick. Well, Bowie will cheer me up, but the feeling doesn't quite go away.
I don't like this! I don't want to feel so uncertain. Nor do I like reverting to teen-angst mode like this! Why can't I have something solid?
Humans have a naturally feral nature, but somewhere along the way we became social creatures. Who is to say that I have to succumb to habit and deal with them?
Who is to say that I must be a part of what they stand for?
I feel this helpless throbbing, a panic spiraling down my spine, taking my breath with it.
Spiraling down into the dark water like my dreams. I look up and see someone who couldn't have helped me.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The Rasmus: F-F-Falling
Random people are trying to rap beside me. This is a strange occurrence. RAP IS NOT FUN. Not fun for me. I will hit you with a fish if you rap. Stop it, you dumbass. Now I break out the ninja skillz. So talking to myself isn’t the best way to convince anyone that I am sane. I should have known better. You know how it feels when some dumbass beside you keeps biting your elbow? It hurts. Of course you don't know how it feels. I should bite your elbow.
"Sorry, sorry I cant seem to control myself my unckel died, i have a fuzzy croch and i am just a lil you know drunk so sorry to any one i have harmed r hurt physicaly(sp) so umm, thank you cleavleand good night"
Okay, so that's the best I'm going to get. You know, you're an irritating little emo, but I still like you. You ass.
"thats funny, but ua, im still intrested in seeing your undergarmens..."
Would you be happy if I told you that Winnie the Pooh is on my underwear?
"i could be happyer"
Well, I'm not telling you what they really look like, and you're not going to see them. No, sorry, well actually I'm not sorry, but still no. You can bite my pale ass.
Hah, I won rock-paper-scissors and you can't see my motherfuckin underwear. You ass.
And so ends another episode of wasting time with Ryan.
Random people are trying to rap beside me. This is a strange occurrence. RAP IS NOT FUN. Not fun for me. I will hit you with a fish if you rap. Stop it, you dumbass. Now I break out the ninja skillz. So talking to myself isn’t the best way to convince anyone that I am sane. I should have known better. You know how it feels when some dumbass beside you keeps biting your elbow? It hurts. Of course you don't know how it feels. I should bite your elbow.
"Sorry, sorry I cant seem to control myself my unckel died, i have a fuzzy croch and i am just a lil you know drunk so sorry to any one i have harmed r hurt physicaly(sp) so umm, thank you cleavleand good night"
Okay, so that's the best I'm going to get. You know, you're an irritating little emo, but I still like you. You ass.
"thats funny, but ua, im still intrested in seeing your undergarmens..."
Would you be happy if I told you that Winnie the Pooh is on my underwear?
"i could be happyer"
Well, I'm not telling you what they really look like, and you're not going to see them. No, sorry, well actually I'm not sorry, but still no. You can bite my pale ass.
Hah, I won rock-paper-scissors and you can't see my motherfuckin underwear. You ass.
And so ends another episode of wasting time with Ryan.
Monday, May 15, 2006
The Cure-Love Song
This used to be my song for J. That and Pictures of You. In fact, the entirety of Disintegration seemed to be about us. Now, it just serves as a reminder of the things I never had. Wanted, tried so hard to get, but never had.
I’ve almost done it. I’m almost to the point where I feel nothing at all. I really believed that this is what I wanted. Where I once stayed awake, alert, in agony, I now glance dispassionately and feel nothing. Where once there was a voice of reason, one to keep me living and sane, there is only silence. I can actually hear the echoes of myself in there.
A great part of the fear has left me. I don’t see this as much of a good thing. I need some kind of constant reminder, knowledge of an impending end to keep me alive. Everything I see means nothing, my friends are distant, and screaming makes no sound. I see D., not three feet from me, but looking at her, there could be a million miles and oceans between us.
I had a strange dream. I wasn’t human; I was just a very sophisticated replica. Who knows what it means when a simulation is more believable than the real thing? Someone called me cruel, an asshole, and I told them that they were only jealous because I was a better model of one.
I’d like to feel something petty, something lighter.
I don’t know what to do with M. I am not enough. I may look like a person, but I am not. She does not see that this is a simulation, more real than life. She holds his grip on me, so mundane and ruthless it kills me. I don’t like this feeling.
It doesn’t matter what’s inside, as long as no one ever sees it. My performance has been perfected; they think me capable of things that I never knew or understood. What I have become is a cancer inside a gleaming shell, rotting from the inside, numbing the nerves and eating everything. Nobody can smell the foul odor, it just decays without notice.
How I feel…is like living at the bottom of the ocean. Breath is stifled, an immense pressure crushes down. Words never survive the journey upwards. Bubbles break the surface, are seen for their presence, but the significance is never noted. This is true, for have you not seen people on the ocean? They see bubbles and assume it must be some creature that dwells there and is adapted to life underwater. They never think that someone could be drowning just out of sight.
You know what?
I'm not happy.
This used to be my song for J. That and Pictures of You. In fact, the entirety of Disintegration seemed to be about us. Now, it just serves as a reminder of the things I never had. Wanted, tried so hard to get, but never had.
I’ve almost done it. I’m almost to the point where I feel nothing at all. I really believed that this is what I wanted. Where I once stayed awake, alert, in agony, I now glance dispassionately and feel nothing. Where once there was a voice of reason, one to keep me living and sane, there is only silence. I can actually hear the echoes of myself in there.
A great part of the fear has left me. I don’t see this as much of a good thing. I need some kind of constant reminder, knowledge of an impending end to keep me alive. Everything I see means nothing, my friends are distant, and screaming makes no sound. I see D., not three feet from me, but looking at her, there could be a million miles and oceans between us.
I had a strange dream. I wasn’t human; I was just a very sophisticated replica. Who knows what it means when a simulation is more believable than the real thing? Someone called me cruel, an asshole, and I told them that they were only jealous because I was a better model of one.
I’d like to feel something petty, something lighter.
I don’t know what to do with M. I am not enough. I may look like a person, but I am not. She does not see that this is a simulation, more real than life. She holds his grip on me, so mundane and ruthless it kills me. I don’t like this feeling.
It doesn’t matter what’s inside, as long as no one ever sees it. My performance has been perfected; they think me capable of things that I never knew or understood. What I have become is a cancer inside a gleaming shell, rotting from the inside, numbing the nerves and eating everything. Nobody can smell the foul odor, it just decays without notice.
How I feel…is like living at the bottom of the ocean. Breath is stifled, an immense pressure crushes down. Words never survive the journey upwards. Bubbles break the surface, are seen for their presence, but the significance is never noted. This is true, for have you not seen people on the ocean? They see bubbles and assume it must be some creature that dwells there and is adapted to life underwater. They never think that someone could be drowning just out of sight.
You know what?
I'm not happy.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
This morning was...strange. I had this overwhelming urge to hide from people. I just didn't want to talk to anyone, and the strange thing? Nobody seemed to notice me at all.
*Poof* The Twitchy disappears.
Where'd it go? Nobody knows.
Well, partway through a friend gave me an old Clash cassette, and that cheered me up. Even though it's kind of his fault that I was freaked. I think he knows, 'cause he's been doing quite a bit to cheer me up. Damn little hobbit, messing with my head.
*Poof* The Twitchy disappears.
Where'd it go? Nobody knows.
Well, partway through a friend gave me an old Clash cassette, and that cheered me up. Even though it's kind of his fault that I was freaked. I think he knows, 'cause he's been doing quite a bit to cheer me up. Damn little hobbit, messing with my head.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
So today I have no idea what's going on. I am just recovering from a depressive phase and catapulting straight into a manic. At least it isn't as uncomfortable as it used to be. Damn, I said some stupid things.
Well, despite all that, there are some good things that are happening.
Miss Murder debuts in a week!! I'm just thrilled.
It still kills me that Decemberunderground comes out on 6-6-06, that's just great.
Watch, about 10,000 DF'ers heads will explode if we get any more good news.
Example:
"Hey, we're going to release a Blaqk Audio album next year!" DF: "Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" *BOOOOOOOOM* *splatter, splatter*
LIsten to the sound of our brains hitting the walls.
Well, despite all that, there are some good things that are happening.
Miss Murder debuts in a week!! I'm just thrilled.
It still kills me that Decemberunderground comes out on 6-6-06, that's just great.
Watch, about 10,000 DF'ers heads will explode if we get any more good news.
Example:
"Hey, we're going to release a Blaqk Audio album next year!" DF: "Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" *BOOOOOOOOM* *splatter, splatter*
LIsten to the sound of our brains hitting the walls.
Time stands still. The witching hour has come again, and all is black and grey but my little room, which is awash in a blaze of ruddy light. I am perched on a chair, furiously slinging paint onto the wall. A patch of my cheek is stiff with a pearly white blotch. Streaks of red and black rush frantically up my arms, making them seem bruised and bloody but somehow still functioning. Its midnight but I’ll keep going. The hour is a heavy velvet weight; it engulfs me and holds me away from the rushing world. Here I am untouchable and unseen. Before I notice at all, it is past three. Even now I am still standing, swiftly leaving silky lines across my endless canvas. I whisper to my subject that he is lovely, and the quick rasp of my own voice sends a shiver through me. I am fighting the sparkles in the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to sleep. Sleep would make all of this a dream, a fleeting fantasy that I had touched something unknown. I ignore the voices that seem to call my name. They are the wakeful, wry, and watchful. I keep this fire burning, setting the darkest corners ablaze. I won’t stop, not now. As the morning pushes through my moonlight love, it finds me collapsed, but still lucid, on the floor. I look up into the chocolate eyes of my angel and smile. I haven’t wasted a moment.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
