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| Okay you guys, here's the deal with this. My Journal as well as My Poetry contain some really personal thoughts and feelings, but I'm sharing it with you because maybe you can relate? These entries are straight out of my suede burgandy journal I keep by my bed, so they aren't entries made specifically on or with this site in mind. |
| ***WARNING*** Some content on this page may be triggering. Please keep yourself safe while reading. |
| May 6, 2002 12:22 AM People ask what it's like to be me. Me My life. Sad. Depressive. No, I'm happy aren't I? Isn't this a smile? My mind sometimes can't decide which emotion it wants to feel. Blue walls. I painted my walls blue. Sometimes I wish I would've left them white. I don't want them blue. Baby blue is my favorite color though, I like them blue. It makes me feel like I'm in a nursery, I don't want to feel young. I sat in bed minutes ago maybe 10 hitting my fists together so that my knuckles would turn red. It was fun to watch them get red. They are white again now. I have an urge to hit them together again. No, I don't think I will. Maybe in 5 minutes. Have you ever wondered if you were crazy? But what is crazy? Would you define it as 2 halves of your brain - you see a cabinet, one half of your brain says - "That is a cabinet." The other half says - "No, that is a bear." "No, that's a cabinet." "It's a bear." "Don't you see the wood?" "That's not wood, it's fur." "What about the handles?" "Those aren't handles, they are teeth." "I really think it's a cabinet..." "It is a bear." "Is it?" "Let's go check it out." And here is when you realize without consciously knowing it, that you are having a silent conversation with yourself. Convincing yourself of two things. My teacher in Jr. High told me to write out #'s 1-10, but the rest you could simply put in numerical form. Why is that? All #'s under 10 are 5 letters - or that - aren't they? One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Yeah, they are. I wonder if that has anything to do with anything? The first # after ten has more than 5 letters, doesn't it? Eleven. It has 6. I wonder what that has to do with anything? I don't know. Why do people why do counselors talk to you in such pacifying voices? Maybe they think you really are crazy. Aren't they supposed to make you feel better about yourself? They talk slow. They talk like you might not understand if they talk any faster. Will a killer go to Heaven? What is that? Heaven. What is that? A killer. Who knows either one. Is a killer someone who puts a bullet through another person or uses another of such method which in result stops the pumping of the blood throughout the viens or the beating of the heart. Why are hearts shaped as they are? They kind on valentines and candy boxes. That's not what a heart really looks like. Maybe it's because the real heart looks less appealing. Yeah it looks kind of ugly. I wasn't done with my other story - or puncturing a lung so as to stop the breathing or to restrict airflow to the lungs. All in which case result in death of the human body. Is that a killer? Or is a killer someone who speaks brusquely and "kills" the inside of a person slowly, figuratively speaking, until a person is driven to the point where they take their own life using one of the previously mentioned methods? But they wouldn't get any sort of punishment would they? Isn't it ironic how we punish death with death. Is it supposed to be a bad thing? Would they go to Heaven and isn't that a reward? You still haven't told me what Heaven is. I don't know yet. May 7, 2002 1:28 AM Why isn't the sky a different color? It's the same color as my walls. At first you like them, but then you get tired of it. Life would be more fun if the sky was pink and the grass was purple. No, it's fine the way it is. You'd get tired quick of a pink sky and purple grass. What about yellow and red? No, that'd get tiresome as well. 1:34 AM It turns black at night though. What does? The sky. Maybe so you don't get tired of it so quick. If it was another color in day...would it still be black at night? May 8, 2002 9:26 PM Why is looks the most important thing to about 96% of the world? And why do people say that looks don't really matter when they know that they probably wouldn't be there or have agreed to see the person if they were 300 pounds and acne-prone. Would you have sexual relations with a 350 pound man or woman who wasn't well equipped? Be honest with yourself. No. Well okay, maybe that's why all those diet pills and weight-loss scams and penis-enlargements and breast augmentations sell so well. Or maybe it's all the 36B's who want to be a C or a D cup, or all the 7-inches who want to be an 8 or a 9, that are using it all up. Whichever it is, the product is being bought and the message is being projected to the public still. I wonder how did Michael Jackson bleach his skin? And if you can turn a black person white - can you turn a white person black? 9:51 PM I have blonde hair / I have olive skin / I have an English face I borrowed from my Grandmother / I like the color of the sky / But only when it's sunny May 9, 2002 12:02 PM Next time somebody says "good morning" I want to say "no, it's been quite bad actually, so bad morning." And how come even when people are at the worst possible time in their life, why do they still say they're fine when someone asks how they are? Next time I am going to say "I'm not fine, actually" - and tell them my problems. Next time I am not fine I will say that. May 10, 2002 1:23 AM Love is just love. Isn't it? Isn't all love equal? There are different types but when it all boils down to it isn't it all the same? Love it just love. May 13, 2002 12:45 AM Love. Sex. Friends. Smile. Dance. Courage. Romance. Trust. Joy. Hope. 12:56 AM I hid my soiled hands behind my back / They are dirty / I am not clean / I look down at the floor/ My shoes are worn / I'll not bother to shine them / My jeans have holes / So does my life / My shirt is ripped - Will you judge me? 1:03 AM I don't have fake nails / Mine are just fine / I don't go tanning / My skin is the color of sand / I don't need your silicone / I prefer my own / What God gave me is just fine May 20, 2002 1:44 AM Why do we sacrifice our feelings for the sake of others? Do you do that? I do. July 9, 2002 1:00 AM I feel like I'm on a fucking leash. My world is spinning. I'm drunk without alcohol. I'm high on light. What the fuck does that mean. My wrists have fucking bruises all over them because "***** can't handle life." GODDAMIT I could end it ALL right now. But I won't. Or if I did could you count more than 3 people who would give a flying fuck? I probably could on a happy day. *****. ***** If she didn't forget about me. My mom? My dad wouldn't give fucking rat's ass. Infact he doesn't even know if I'm alive right now. Lucky bastard. 2:24 AM Insanity. The mere thought of it would drive you into the dimensions where you might rather kill yourself or cut yourself or bruise yourself because you are "insane". The idea that a part of your mind could control your concious state is leaning toward the creepy side. But what is crazy? What is insane? It's me, or you, amplified. If you've ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you wanted to stay a kid forever. If you found that banging your wrist against something helped ease the pain. Are we really "insane"? Give me a break. July 11, 2002 9:58 PM I think my life has all 7 colors of the rainbow. Red. I have a bad temper. Orange. I'm a spunky person. I have flair. Yellow. I'm happy-go-lucky. Green. I'm jealous. Blue. I'm sad. Indigo. I'm funky. I'm wild. Violet. I'm thoughtful. I don't think I'm a slut. That's because I'm not. I've only kissed 11 people. ****, ******, **, ******, *****, ****, ****, ******, *******, *****, and *****. That's only 11 people. And I can name them all. Last names too. Aren't you impressed? I'm not. 10:26 PM I have scars on my hands / That's from putting on the wrong gloves / I have scars on my legs / That's from falling down / I have scars on my feet / That's from shoes too small / I've had bruises on my wrists / I've gotten angry / I wear silk / I've gotten up / I wear the right size / Now I smile. July 23, 2002 9:18 PM What is beautiful? 5'10". 110 pounds. Size 2. 24" waist. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Long nails. Tan skin. Red lips. What about 5'2". 130 pounds. Size 6. 29" waist. Brown hair. Black eyes. Short nails. Pale skin. Pink lips. What about nice, caring. generous, funny. She has a great laugh. Beautiful is you. Beautiful is me. July 26, 2002 3:28 AM Have you ever noticed how time can move back and forth and back again and you can't control it? Do you ever wish you could? Has anyone ever asked you for a sharp object? Every window on Alcatraz has a view of San Francisco. July 29, 2002 2:49 AM If you don't call How will I know you care? When we're together Do you even know I'm there? How can I believe you? When your actions say otherwise How can I trust you? I can see your lies Your eyes - once so magnetic Now just look empty Your touch - once so warm Now just feels cold Your kiss was once so passionate It seems routine I say, "I love you" You say, "me too" If I tell you this Would you say, "we're through"? |
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