-September... What a shitty month that was!-
Saturday, September 02, 2000 4:26 am
Ah,
September. Bringer of a welcome change in seasons... I'm afraid
that's the only welcome thing I can see in my future.
Well,
life just doesn't get too much shittier than this. Damnit... My purity
score went from a wholesome 76% to a less-than-respectable 57%... (You
can find out your purity score at The
Spark .) And that was just from one weekend.
Gee... I wonder how -that- happened.
I'm
not going to get into the details... For now. But I will say that
something happened to me that I never thought would ever have happened.
I lost my ah... *coughvirginitycough* I'm going to leave it at that.
I
feel like such a bitch. Ever since she left, I've been debilitatingly
sick so I haven't had many opportunities to get a hold of her, and she
has yet to send -any- word to me. None, what so ever. I don't
even know if she made it home okay. Why hasn't she tried to get a
hold of me... She knew how big losing my virginity was... When she
left, she seemed mad at me... I don't know why... Maybe because I didn't
talk to her the whole weekend. I didn't tell her what I was feeling...
She has to know that I couldn't have. I was so confused... Feeling
nothing good... Nothing but guilt. I wasn't going to bring
it up and ruin the weekend. How can she do this to me? My virginity
was all I had... It was the last speck of my innocence... And now it's
gone. It happened so fast... Fucking christ! Why did
it have to happen like that?! All this time, I told myself that I'd
have no regrets, and now regret is all I have. Damnit... Why
can't she leave me an email or something?! She just takes my virginity
and disappears! God... I guess she never wants to see me again.
Maybe she has regrets too... But if that's the case, then she needs
to tell me. Even though the rejection is going to kill me...
I was already rejected not but a week before... It still hurts, and
I miss her... So badly... Everything still hurts. Everything
will forever hurt. Forever. They both promised me that they
wouldn't hurt me! They fucking promised! Goddamnit! Why
did they break their promises?! WHY?! Oh... I can't take
this anymore... My love is dead. I can't love anymore...
No more... I can't do it anymore. It won't come back to me now...
I can't feel it anymore. I think a part of my soul has died.
I want to love... But I can't... I can't explain it... That feeling
is gone... Hiding maybe... Maybe it's dead. Instead now I only feel
anger, fear, sadness. Those are what have taken it's place.
I
came so so so close to crawling back to her. I wanted her to be there
for me, for once. To see things would be magically good again...
All better. Love her again. See her... Touch her.
But no... I know that isn't true... She threw me away, like
the other, always again and again. I can feel them now, my tears.
They well up in my eyes, but my anger chokes them back. I can't stand
this anymore. All of this shit... And I have no one to tell.
No one... Except for this webpage that no one ever reads. I need
someone to talk to... But I have no one. My fucking retard friend...
I tried telling him, but all he could say was, "You got laid?! I'm
proud of ya!" That's dandy. -He- is proud of me... That
makes me feel even more like a fucking loser. I can't tell my family...
No, never could I do that. They are the only ones that think I'm
a good person... If they knew the truth... I don't want to
see that shame in their eyes. I would rather die first.
Now
there's a thought. Dying... Ending the pain... No more
of this running around trying to scream with my mouth sewn shut...
My soul... If I have one... Is shriviled. I should off myself before
I become something inhuman. I just need someone to talk to... God,
you bastard! Give me someone to talk to! Someone to help me.
God, I want someone to help me... I can feel them again... My tears.
Friday, September 08, 2000 12:07 pm
I've been
up all night. My "father" had me go down to Home Depot with him to
help him fill out their newfangled computer controlled job applications.
Moron. He could have done it by himself... But no... He decided
that I should stay up all night so I could go down there with him early
in the morning... Like it was supposed to make a difference or something.
God, what a fucking scary place to work at, Home Depot... On the app, they
force you to watch this sort of "orientation" video... Yikes.
It was something akin to brainwash...
Well,
there's worse things in life than working at Home Depot, I guess... Like
say... Having a knife stabbed through your heart, wrenched around a few
times, then having it shoved out the other side... Oh, but that's
a story for another day... Or is it...?
Dead Teddy Bear
I can feel it now
Inside you
I give you my purity
You give me a knife
I give you my blood
You give me your animosity
~
Your "love" beats on my head
Like the weather from a storm
Given the choice, I'd rather be dead
Lying in the grave, my body still warm
~
I can feel it now
Inside you
How can I treat you like a human
When you steal my soul
How can you expect to be treated like a human
When I am something that isn't
~
Your soul scratches to my bone
Like the teeth of a dog
Given the choice, I'd rather be alone
Engulfed in my dreary fog
~
I can feel it now
Inside you
What it means to lose a part of yourself
How it is to die and be alive
What it means to see the world through withered eyes
How it is to live and be dead
~
Your kiss stings like a knife
Like a morbid stab
Given the choice, I'd rather have my life
How much more of my soul will you grab
~
I can feel it now
Inside you
How it feels to bleed your soul
Until there's nothing left
How it feels to feed your hunger
Until you're everything and I'm nothing
~
My pain is nothing new
Like the memory of rain
Given the choice, I'd rather it be you
To be the one to suffer this pain!
Tuesday, September 12, 2000 10:24 am
I
don't think I've ever been this close to suicide before... Last night...
If my grandfather's shop door hadn't been locked... He keeps his
guns in there. I guess I'm lucky the door was locked... I guess.
Though perhaps I could have swallowed some pills or something. I
guess I'm lucky I didn't think of it at the time... I guess.
Late last night... I was sitting in a banana chair, wondering where my
life went wrong (as usual). And one of my kittens snuck underneath
the chair, and... I didn't notice... At least not until I rocked
forward... Crushing it. I tried to get up as fast as I could...
But it was too late. The kitten was writhing about on the floor.
At first, I didn't believe it. I am known as the most careful person
in my family. So much so that they call me paranoid. This wasn't
even the first time one of the kittens had crawled underneath the chair
when someone was sitting on it. I remember having to reach under
and pull one or both of them out before they got squashed... In fact,
I made it a point to be extra careful about it... I just don't do
things like this. Then again... I seem to be doing a lot of
things that I would "never" do as of late... I don't even feel like
myself anymore.
Back to the kitten... She writhed around... And then she stopped.
Like I said, at first I didn't believe it. I thought that maybe she
had just gotten hurt a little bit... No more than maybe a broken
bone at most... I stared down at her for a few moments... Expecting
her to get back up and start playing with her sister again... She
wasn't moving. Finally it hit me... She was dead. I picked
her up and began cursing myself. She was breathing. Everyone
was asleep, and I didn't want to wake anyone up just yet... So I
cradled her in my arms and took her with me into the bathroom. She
was breathing. Her heart was beating. But she wasn't there.
I thought that maybe I had broken her spinal column, or neck... I
checked for anything broken. There was nothing. Suddenly she
gasped and lolled her head around to face me. For a second, there
was life in her eyes as she looked at me... Then it disappeared again.
In that brief moment, I could feel what that little kitten was feeling.
That little innocent kitty... It was fear. If kittens could
speak... I'm sure she would have screamed, "Help me!".
Suddenly, in a rush of agony... My life flashed before my eyes.
My stomach churned and my head throbbed. It was as if this poor little
kitty was the trigger to release all of my pain that I had bottled up.
The straw that broke the camel's back. I could see it all.
The time where I was no older than three or four. My father had a
bag of weed spread out on the coffee table. He was seperating the
seeds and stems from the buds... I didn't know what he was doing
at the time, and being only a toddler, I should have had no reason to think
anything of it. I didn't even know what drugs were back then.
And yet, I somehow had this strong feeling that what he was doing was wrong...
The time I was in kindergarten, and met this girl named April. If
five year olds could fall in love, I would have. I remember pretending
that she was my girlfriend. Telling my sister stories about her...
They were all made up, of course... I didn't have the guts to even
really talk to her. I remember one day, though, I tried talking to
her. She said, "You're a dork." My love life has been in the
shitter ever since. The time in first grade where I waited for my
father to call me in from playing outside. He called everytime before,
and all I thought was that he was letting me stay out late. It was
dark before I came in... He beat me for it. In front of my
uncle. The time in second grade where I had this crush on a girl...
I used to write secret "love notes" to her... She told me that she
would never like me because I couldn't afford to even buy nice clothes.
The time in fourth grade when I went over to my friend Jordan's house...
His father got mad at him for some reason or another... He took Jordon
off into a room. I could hear him hitting him. I could hear
Jordon crying... The time where my teacher got the whole class to
make fun of me. The time my father shut off the power to the house,
screaming like a madman at my mother while I had a friend sleeping over.
The time in junior high when a bunch of huge kids trampled over a small
girl in the hallway... Totally ignoring her, leaving her crawling across
the floor, crying. The times that my father would hang and out smoke
dope with gang leaders and known murderers. The time my father knocked
my mother to the floor and I had to fight him off of her. The time
I was baptized into a church I later came to find out was a farce.
The time and times again where I've had my heart broken. Names to
painful for me to repeat. The time I had to stop my love from stabbing
herself through the chest with a butcher knife. The times where my
family has been ridiculed, looked down upon, gossiped about, and chastised
for being poor. The friends that I didn't feel I could live up to.
The feeling of being betrayed by friends who don't deserve the loyalty
they don't even know they have. The time I plotted to murder my love's
cousin for raping her. The time I did those girls' homework so they
wouldn't fail school. They thought I did because I was "pussy whipped".
I just thought that they were my friends. The time someone tried
to run me over with their jeep because I was wearing a trenchcoat.
The times I've been followed around in stores for looking different.
The time my love called me when she was high on acid. The time my
caseworker tried to get me put on Prozac. The day I realized that
the one I had loved for all those years never loved me back. Those
years I spent planning the day where I would lose my virginity. Where
I would make love with the person I wanted to spend my life with.
The day I lost my virginity. Coming away only with regret.
I held that kitty close to my chest. And I cried. I couldn't
stop... Even now, I'm fighting so hard to choke back those cursed
tears. So hard. I cried until morning, holding that poor little
kitty close to me. I kept telling her how sorry I was... Like she
would understand. I kept telling her that she needed to live.
She was breathing. I cried some more, as my gut wrenched in pain.
She twitched every now and then. I told her I was sorry. She
was just an innocent little kitten. Innocence is so rare... It should
be treasured. And I killed it. She was breathing, but there
was no life. I had to explain to my family what I had done...
It was so hard. I went to bed and cried into my pillow. There
goes my tough guy persona. My mother took the kitten to the vet.
She had brain damage. They said that they were going to wait a while
and see if she came out of it... Then they were going to put her
to sleep if she didn't.
I found something interesting a couple days ago. My disk that had
held all my old journal entries for the past few years. I went back
and read through them all... You know what? My life is a fucking
broken record... See for YOURSELF.
They all open in notepad. Though why I'm bothering to post it, I'm
unsure...
I
don't know if you know what it feels like to have all your unresolved pain
explode inside you instantaneously. I guess I'm lucky the guns were
locked up... I guess...
Wednesday, September 13, 2000 12:18 pm
The kitten died.
Last night, I was over at my friend Dave's house. He smoked a bowl,
got high, as usual. We watched Princess Mononoke, then his friend
showed up. I knew Dave was hoping I would be out of there before
he got there. *snicker* He showed up, we decided that we were going
to watch Being John Malkovitch. We went outside, they were going
to toke some more. His friend, Jeremy I think his name was, asked
me if I smoke. I told him that it's been years since I've done it.
Dave asked me if I wanted a hit... And hey, I figured I may as well.
Gee, I'm full of all sorts of little surprises, aren't I?
Yeah, well, after a joint and a couple of bowls, I remembered why I didn't
like pot. You see, I have a -high-, I would even call it abnormal,
tolerance to drugs. Which is even more odd because I've done next
to none with the exception of weed and alcohol. And even then, too
little to build up a resistance. So, after smoking all that weed,
I wasn't "stoned" like you might expect. In fact, my mood changed
-very- little. I did feel a little bit more relaxed, but I had this
nasty head-high that gave me a headache. So, all in all, it wasn't
really worth it.
Lately I've been doing so many things that are so out of character for
me that I wonder if I'm even myself anymore. That's pretty schizophrenic,
ain't it? Seriously, though... I've been thinking about going
to go get help (again). Just a counselor to talk to, no fucking government
dope (prozac and what not), just someone who I can tell everything to.
I remember the last shrink I had... Heh... My life was like a living
soap opera to her. I was her favorite client because she knew that
everytime I came in, I was going to have another impossibly comedically
tragically ironic story to tell her. I'd get responses like, "No
way!" "Are you serious?!" "I'm sorry... I know I shouldn't be laughing
at you... But it's just so funny!" ...Hmmm... Maybe I should
rethink this shrink thing... Eh, I couldn't afford it anyways.
I keep having these nightmares lately... All about dying. In
one dream, people were being burned to death. In another dream people
were being shot. In another dream, stabbed... I've even been
killed a few times in these dreams. Strangely though, I haven't really
been bothered by them... 'Course, when you're someone like me, you
get so used to having nightmares that you get numb to them. Besides,
I've had plenty worse. Like the one I had not too long ago... About
three and a half weeks ago. I was having some sort of nightmare,
and I woke up. Suddenly the walls and furniture in my room started
to twist and warp, and I could hear all this cruel laughter booming.
On the wall was a green glowing wispy face, that's where the laughter was
coming from. I then realized that I hadn't woken up at all, and I
tried to wake up and stand, but I was paralyzed. It's a scary feeling,
when suddenly you have lost control of your own nightmare and can't wake
up from it. I calmed momentarily, then I used all my will power to
force myself awake. I didn't get back to sleep after that.
Speaking of sleep... I wish I could get some lately... A couple hours
here and there is all I'm getting lately. It's making me feel even
more miserable than I need to be. It's just so hard to sleep in this
house, with all the screaming, and ignorant noisy people...
I really wish I hadn't killed that kitten...
Monday, September 18, 2000 11:37 am
My
birtday is fast approaching. It, in fact, happens to fall (pun intended)
on the day whereupon Autumn begins. (Well, not quite... Some calendars
have it marked as the 22nd, which I believe, is the more correct date.)
The mark of the beginning of the decay in seasons is also the mark of the
day of my birth. September 23rd, that is... Ha, I guess it suits
me rather well. In any case, I'll be 19 now... Which is somewhat
of a startling revelation. I could have sworn it was but yesterday
that I had just turned 18. Hmmm... Strange... I just had a
thought. The whole year I spent as an 18 year old was remarkably
unremarkable throughout the whole of it... At least until the end, whereupon
everything came crashing down around my head in a most haphazard manner.
Now I may forever remember "The Summer of 2000"... The year I lost my innocence.
In fact, I do nearly believe that I will write a song about it sometime
later.
Ah, so what else is new? Hmm, little else. Dave left on a road
trip to SoCal. I think he had probably been back for a couple of
days, but hasn't bothered to come see me yet. No surprise there.
Ah, but it's just as well. I don't look forward to him being able
to call me a hypocrit for having smoked weed with him. He's going
to attempt to thrust all manners of drugs upon me now. What will
I tell him? Yes? No? I'm decidedly undecided on this
matter. I think that I'll make the decision when he offers, assuming
that he will. Why am I not adamant about "Just Saying No"?
Well, I figure that I haven't much to live for in any case, and that perhaps
I should just finally give up myself to that glorious whirlpool of decadence,
and come spiraling downwards until I crash in a most hideous and yet at
the same time, marvellous, fashion. Perhaps, perhaps not. I'd
be lying if I said that is what I wanted to happen, because it isn't.
But when your life presents you with nothing but failure and heartbreak,
you start to believe that you're simply Fate-bound for it.
Ah, but alas... When I blow out those candles... I will still
make that wish. The the same wish I make every year. The same
wish that is the spawn of what little hope remains left in my heart.
The wish that I might one day find happiness. Though really, I believe
I'm more likely to find Elvis eating out of my refrigerator than I am to
find happiness. What constitutes happiness anyhow? I guess
it's different with each individual... Myself, I have thought that
love would bring me happiness... But strangely it has only brought me so
much pain. And yet, I do still believe that finding love is the only
way I will ever be happy... More irony. I further find
this even more humorous due to the fact that I have no real inkling as
to what love really is. I remember being in love, and also once believing
that I was loved just as so in return... That illusion was violently
shattered... And now I question myself as to whether I was in love or not.
Perhaps it was something I just conjured for myself, to make myself feel
better. No, it wasn't that... That delusion would have been
hastily withdrawn whence I discovered how much trouble I was getting myself
into. It wasn't for the sex either, because there was none (thankfully).
So, I must have loved her... I can still remember that feeling...
I still remember what it felt like to hold her... To look into her eyes
and see her love reflected... Or so I thought then. Why do I still
bring this up? It's been a good four years... I was just a kid, for
God's sake! And so was she! How could I have expected her to
be in a serious relationship... She was too young... I should have
realized that it wouldn't have lasted. Young love... Fool's
love, I say.
Well, I do believe I've managed to depress myself to the point of near-suicide,
so I had better stop before I start getting ideas again.
Monday, September 25, 2000 5:32 pm
My birthday came and went... You know... It's strange... Well,
actually, it's only strange because I just recently noticed it...
But, whenever anyone's birthday happens in this household, the whole family
(if they can) gather together upstairs and do the whole "Happy Birthday"
thing. However, every year when my birthday rolls around, everyone
with the exception of my immediate family negelect to sing happy birthday
to me. I guess this just serves to further enforce the fact that
my family thinks I am the "Anti-Christ". Oh well, my immediate family
are the only ones I truly consider to be true family anyway. The
rest of them can go to blazes for all I'm all concerned.
Hmmm... I also went to attend a "haunted house" that are ever so popular
around this season. Damn, I tell you... Those ticket prices go up
-at least- a buck every year. I remember way back when, when the
price to get in was a piffling four bucks, and if you had a can of food,
three! Ah, but those were my glorious days of youth... *mutters
as he waves his cane about* In any case, it was $11 to get in.
You know, these things never did scare me. In fact, Dave and I used
to make it a tradition to scare the workers instead. It was so marvelously
easy, and it provided for hours of childish entertainment. So, although
I failed to find myself frightened, I was moderately amused by the "actor"'s
lame attempts to scare people. "Rawr... I'm a monster... Are
you scared?" Throw in the fact that there was an "Amazing 2 ft Tall
Man" (some guy who by some mishap or another found his legs missing), and
I guess I didn't have a -bad- time of it. I did however have to put
up with the preppy jocks following me with their girlfriends in tow...
Shrieking and clinging to their boyfriends whenever something "scary" happened...
Their boyfriends then of course utilize this close time to cop a feel at
every given opportunity... Hmm... That reminds me, I've always wanted to
take a girlfriend to a haunted house.... ...Quite. ...Let me
reiterate; I -HATE- holidays (Well, okay, the aesthetics of Halloween [Samhain,
All Hallow's Eve, or whatever you prefer] -are- indeed appealing... However,
this does not make up for the girlfriendless factor IMHO... So, in conclusion,
I guess you could say that out of all the holidays, I do indeed hate Halloween
the least of them all... Right.)
Oh, I have more spikes. Now my trenchcoat is not only stylish, but
could serve to impale someone on either of my shoulders if need be.
I'm on the vanguard of fashion...
I've been called melodramatic recently... In fact, I've been said to act
melodramatic in many cases... In which case I have been prompted
to enact a defense to this. I would be lying if I said that I haven't
been melodramatic a few times, then again, so would -anyone-. This
doesn't mean that my feelings aren't heartfealt. I am strange in
many ways... Especially in the ways of how I express myself.
You see, most of the time, I wear a look of total indifference. I
keep to myself. I shut out everything and everyone. I don't
utter a word let alone go off and spout "poetry", or make some other such
emotional display. People who know me think it remarkably odd whenever
I am even slightly emotional about anything. Even when I'm under
the influence, I'm eerily calm. In fact, in one case, I got drunk
with some fellows and I began shouting things like, "Damn tea parties!
Things were so simple before they came along!" And, "You know... I think
I have an extreme fetish for red heads... And it's ruining my life." (Er...
Yes, I -did- really say these things, and they're not so nonsensical as
you may be thinking... It's... A long story...) Which, really, isn't
so bad for someone who has drunken six beers, two mixers, and a solid shot
of Tequila (Mmmm... Tequila....). But "The Guys" couldn't stop laughing
at me, just because of the fact that I was acting so out of character.
What does all of this mean? Well, maybe I don't really act melodramatic.
Maybe it's just that I show my emotion so rarely, that when I do, it seems
something outrageous... But to me, that would only explain half of
it. I myself, admit, that the ways I choose to show my emotions are...
Not of the ordinary. But then that brings me back to my normally
"placid" nature.... This is all an act. 98% of the time, what
goes on underneath my exterior is something much like Choas. And
well... I'm not strong enough to contain myself all of the time...
And sometimes the wall I build is weakened... And sometimes... Well, there's
many things that can set me off. So, in order to keep myself in check,
I "vent". One method of doing so is this... Writing.
When I "vent", it's more like a small volcanic eruption. I keep all
of this compressed inside, and when an outlet is there, I tend to lose
control over myself... And things happen. I fall in love, I get into
trouble, I hurt people's feeling, I get my feelings hurt, I make friends,
I lose friends, I make enemies, I get drunk, etc etc etc... And I
don't realize what I've done until after the fact. Ha... When I read
that, it makes me feel like a sociopath... And maybe I am. But not
a dangerous one, at least. I may be a lunatic, but I'm not violent.
I guess you might say I have some issues....
Yeah. I do. It's not something I need to be told, really.
I know I'm "fucked up". I know I could most likely be diagnosed
as morbidly insane... But what am I going to do about it? I can't
change the way I am, I've been like this from the day I was born...
As early as I can remember I've been this way. Always so serious,
always so "melodramatic"... I guess I'm just one of those "problem
kids" that can't be fixed, I don't know. I have come up with some
goals that might help me deal with life, I suppose...
1) Become a Non-Sexual. (Neuter myself if I have to)
2) Become One With the Vulcan. (No emotion, no problems) Spocktastic.
3) Legally change my name to "Draconis".
4) Get That Damned Hooded Voluminous Black Cloak That I Have Been Absolutely Aching For With A Black Supertunic, Black Breeches, Black Leather Vambraces (spiked), and a Pair of Those Knee-High Fold-Over Cuffed Cavalier Boots... Black of Course.
And then life would be perfect... Oh... So... Perfect.
Wednesday, September 27, 2000 7:59 pm
Who needs enemies when you have friends like Dave? He got
back from his trip to SoCal last Sunday, and finally decided to take that
monumentuously huge trip of two houses over to come talk to me. He
didn't bring up the pot smoking thing, thank gawd... Maybe he just
didn't remember? In any case, his trip was a... well... trip.
Throw together a handful of stupid underage males, mounds of pot, ecstasy,
alcohol, 'shrooms, acid, etc etc etc ad nauseum... And they're lucky to
be back alive. Fear and Loathing.
Anyways, I brought up the subject of haunted houses, telling him that they
were open now. I told him that we should go sometime and he said,
"Oh yeah... -WE- already planned to go." With a strong emphasis on
the "we". Whenever he says "we", what this really means is, "My -cool-
friends that I hang out with and do -cool- stuff with." I never get
to see or meet any one of his friends because he is "too cool" for me,
and getting caught being around a goth would make him -un-cool....
Yeah. Even though I introduce him to all of my friends (not that I have
any), with the knowledge that he is a complete asshole, call it respect,
call it common courtesy... Call it stupid, I don't care. Basically,
the only reason he hangs around me anymore is because I'm his alternative
to "just staying at home doing nothing". If all of his other friends
are occupied, and he's really desperate, I'm the one he turns to.
And I can't very well just turn my back on him, now can I? Afterall...
A friend in need... Is a friend indeed. Yeah... Right.
Christ, this has been one long, fucked up month... And it isn't even
over yet. There are only a few days left, but I'm quite certain that
some new unpleasant situation will present itself before the month is through.
Oh... I'm sick... Again. I get better for around two or three days,
then God smites me with illness again. Thank you God. I guess
this is my punishment for being "The Most Fucked Up Person In The World(tm)".
Life... Is... Wonderful...