From the ages of 8-12 I would have dreams of a man with long dark hair and a black trench coat. Last night my friend told me that shes been having dreams with me and a recurring man. He has long black hair and wears a trench. I was spooked. This can mean only one thing...someone is dream stalking me.
Lately when reading or hearing of others' shame I cry out in pain.
It resonates in me.
I feel it like I am the one going through it.
My heart seizes in a fiery fist and hot, salty tears break out
behind my eyes.
I see moments of torture,
some of it self-inflicted.
I am nothing and everything.
I have become increasingly more paranoid
I sit down,
and sometimes it's hard to sit back up.
Blame, blame, blame....
that's all they want to do,
and I just want to keep sitting.
I have leukemia...
This is not diagnosed by any doctor...
Reason: Doctors lie!
I love muffins!
This has nothing to do with lying doctors
It is however a simple truth.
I've been trying to live my life by simple truths lately.
Such as, my favorite color is purple.
I dislike cranberries.
I have the potential to one day end up in jail either for stalking
(It's up in the air which at this point.)
The point is that I have killed many brain cells and will
never be the same.
YES ON PROP 19!!!!
I'm find it harder to leave the house.
The world is a frightening place to be...
The people are full hatred,
spit in your path before extending a hand,
and our relationship with nature ended a long time ago...
she was ready to move on a long time ago.
There are eyes that watch us and track our indiscretions,
a record of our fall...
I'm tired of the voices in my head,
the ones that ask the questions I don't think about when sober,
the one's I never have an answer for,
and the voices that say the only sane thing to do would be to chew your own tongue out.
My body hurts all the time and feel older than I should...
in more ways than one.
I picture myself and I see an old woman,
I have for a while now.
I can't remember being young.
By the way, I'm twenty-one.
Just burn down the house, already!
I wish I had booze...
boozy boozy booze...
I love booze...
Give me some booze!
Moral: I love booze.
Yea, I'm back...stop it the adoration is making me wanna puke in my mouth a little
I'm tired of lectures.
I hate being touched. It goes back to all the childhood trauma. Who doesn't have some childhood trauma?
I don't think I know anyone who doesn't. I'm atrracted to broken people. That or they're attracted to me. I haven't figured it out completly yet.
The problem is I also crave being touched. I love it. The sliding sensation or the scrape of fingernails on skin.
But the most intimate of touches is something I can never achieve.
I'm too scared of it.
Too scared of having a flashback and making the experience all the more worse.
Plus, pain is something I cannot handle if it's not on my own terms.
A plucking of hair one by one I can handle but the act of sex is what frightens me.
Plus who wants all those nasty germs going in and out of your sin patches?
That's right people....."sin patches."
Which I'm sure will delight Patrick.
That sick bastard...
I'm listening to this song, and the lyrics go, "you just don't see me anymore..." and I can't help but remember the two most important faces in so brief a lifetime and feel how true that is.
I find it amazing how moments can be so beautiful and the memories of them can be so painful.
I see her climbing into my car, the backseat, bent low toward and her head tilted toward me, smiling...
I remember her telling me no. And the crushing of my heart.
I've kept her so long in the space between my heart beats. It's never occured to me until now to let her go.
It feels like I'm tearing a part of myself. Fleash and blood giving way to the pull.
She makes me tired.
What hurts most is that I'm sure I rarely cross her mind now.
I feel the caress of her hand. So soft yet strong. The fear I still hold for her love. Scarred by the past.
How I loved them both.
Heh, I was remembering how once someone asked me if I was truly into girls or if I was following the fad, being gay until graduation, so to speak.
My heart caught in my throat and I couldn't bring myself to say the only two I've ever loved were girls. So I simply shook my head and stared out the window.
Sometimes I think the voices that whisper in my brain belong to them. Haunting.
What do I have left? The memories, the voices and they've held me back.
It angers me that I've put so much into these things and have had nothing but a fucked up mind to show for it.
I feel so alone right now.
Somewhere along the way this post stoped making sense.
Maybe it never did.
"Come back home..."
Home is nowhere...
Home is my mind where these two reside. Forever tempting me.
I guess this is where it ends.