I just got a terrible feeling. A pang of something inside that says, "do it." Do what?
Fuck you, voices. Fuck you and your frightening words of enabling fear, pain, regret, hate and ultimate self-loathing. I sounds insane, but it is how I feel, it is how my mind works. Don't like it, don't read any further.
I feel as if I would be lashing out if I cut again. I have no intention of stopping, I have no intention of dying and I have no intention of seeking help. Please, refrain from preaching, for I have not sinned, nor have I made any small mistake. Unhappiness comes in unstaited waves that crash like a horrible car wreck in my mind. Flames, screams, blood, blood and more blood. The sight of the blood seems to excite me and that is when I hear the small, echoing "do it" in my mind. Lately, I have been able to resist and continue about my business, but I feel weak and I feel needy. I'm not eating well, as I mentioned before, I am not sleeping well and the only thing that I seem to enjoy is work. The harder I work, the better I feel; I must be losing it. Today I carried too many heavy boxes and walked about a half mile in the office alone, that doesn't count PetSmart and Target. The burn in my legs is good and the extreme tiredness I am encountering makes me feel as if I accomplished something. Am I a workoholic, a glutton for pain or just slightly derranged? Honestly, I don't know if I want an answer to that question but sometimes I think an answer would be something I could benefit from.
Ideas and images flash through my mind and I dont know how to put them into words or into pictures. I want to create but I feel like all I can do is destroy. Writing one creative sentence would wake me, it would shake my world and let me break apart the pieces. Things have built up for too long, I need a release and I need it now. Words fail me in conversation, creativity failsevery second of every day. To be frank, I think school was my muse, if not Doc himself. How was it I could go into his class every day and feel inspired to write some shitty piece of poetry but now that I am not in school and I have free time I can't turn out one line that resembles anything poetic? Maybe it is fate or karma that is kicking me in the ass for being such a bitch lately; if I admit to it, will I be able to write again? Oh, how I need and how I long to write something on a crisp piece of lined paper that express the shit I am feeling inside. I have let this all build for too long; everything piled on top of everything is what is doing it. I need to break! Break me, I beg of you to tell me something that will make me break so I will feel the flooding of pain and agony and hate that I always felt when writing. Hurt me with words so I know I have it in me to lash out with poetic fantasies that draw blood from the eyes and make the heart pump with anger. Yes! hurt me and then leave me hanging; after I write, you can apologize and I will pretend that nothing happened. You know why I will pretend? It is because I am an accident waiting to happen and I need something to make that accident happen and then your chain reaction is a result and you know how accidents love chain reactions. Make my cahin reaction, baby. Slice me open with your words, pour salt on the wound and when I recover with words of my own, love me again and let me know that it is ok to hurt and to be hurt; let me know it is ok to be in this situation and feel like you arent going to get out of it.
Reading isnt helping; it makes me feel like a failure because I am not able to write something up to standards with anything set before me. Music, my saviour and passion is ripping me to shreds. The words say what I want to say and they tell me what I think I need to hear, but none of it is really working lately. Marilyn Manson or Bright Eyes, Hawthorne Heights or Veruca Salt, Nirvana or Cradle of Filth - I can never decide, I can only mesh. I have mixes in iTunes that contain the most depressing music I have and it all seems to make me think more about my failure but not about what I could do to turn failure into small success.
Things I am tired of:
- mood swings
- writers block
- repression of fears, wants and desires
- regression to the past
- being a writer
and the list is longer, but I am burned out on complaing. I am going to go find a notebook and a pen and start writing; I want the sounds of the paper to make me go deaf and drown out the sounds of my over-working mind. Overdrive. Think. In. Overdrive. Think in overdrive - that is what I do; my mind never stops analyzing everything around me down to the smallest detail and Doc said that the over-analyzing will probably hurt me some in the future. I am not ready for more of that hurt because I have it too often now. Shit, here I go again with the analyzing.
I am getting a haircut tomorrow and a pet rat this week.
Current Music: Pretty Girls Make Graves - Chemical, Chemical