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Thursday, May 20, 2004

19.05.04

It is so hard not to care. I mean I try and I try but wow what a hard habit to break! So again, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care? Should I type it four times and see if it makes a difference?


I hate when things are over before they begin. I mean what the crap, I didn't even have a chance to decide whether or not I wanted to before she decided it was time to "get things under control" but whatever memories of him don't really appeal to me, I mean I know it would've not worked out or been what I wanted it to be (god damn it! It's like a fucking...curse! (pardon the lack of language) I hate him so much) Anyways there's only so many times I can say that and every single time you know its not going to be true.


I just noticed last time that in her office she has like a chart that's supposed to determine like how suicidal you are. It's based on how many times you think about killing yourself. Like if you think about it once every month or so you're not so bad but still need help and stuff, I just thought it was so funny. I mean of all the people that think about it every single hour, of every single day how many people are actually going to do it? As I was writing the essay yesterday I thought, every single person that does cut themselves, every single person who's attempted suicide or done it, in a way I kind of admire them. I think it takes a lot of courage to want to die, I've never really known how it must of felt but its so...fascinating! Heh, this is probably what an unhealthy obsession is...I'm not obsessed (much) it's just all so interesting I mean what can possibly be so bad that makes you want to not live? My whole life I've had it pretty good, nothing bad has ever happened to me I cry for the most superficial reasons and really not that often, I just want to know what it's like to want to die, I mean how can it be so bad?


I think I should stop doing this, its not helping or anything, and it's nothing at all. I think I should stop writing altogether everything is just disgusting me, how come I never knew it was this bad? I had to edit Cliché last night and minimize Kelcey and god in heaven do they suck it was all I could do to keep from setting flame to my Inspirion...oh and the essays, I hope I die or something they are so god awful I'll have to do them over I doubt they'll get better. Jordan told me to take a break and see but I don't know even all my old stuff it's awful. It's so frustrating I mean come on can't I be good at something, I love to sing so much but hearing my voice (I'm not even like exaggerating here to be modest) it's like nails against a chalkboard except infinitely worse, oh my geez (Yeah I still remember what you said that, talk about scarring ha ha)


I made an metaphor about thunder last night, how sad. Of all the overdone things to "metaphorize" about, a storm is definitely not the most cliche. It was how the lightening was the executioner, the thunder the maiden (her pitiful sobs crescendo just after the lightening strikes, and in the background the rain pelts harder) the rain was the crows, the jeers, the tears the whole "shabang", I was most likely delirious or drugged, but it was cool because I was noticing all these things that just fit with the story and I started to sympathize with her (the thunder) and then I realized I probably should get inside. It was nice though that's the one thing I like about night inside I'm so scared, I don't even know of what but on my deck it just doesn't matter usually I'm so cold and soaked to the bone to actually function, that's probably why I like sitting out there. That's going next thing, first him, and now you know they're not going to let me stay out there, mumblings of "catching my death" eh well there's a lot I could say about that, but I might say too much.


I'm wondering if censorship is right, even though writing sucks when I get on a roll I get on a roll, I can type as fast as I can think (if you've ever called me slow it wasn't a joke) and there's so much to think. Wasn't this journal where I could find solace? (since there's no giant tree in my backyard and I have no friends ha ha) If I censor what I say (I don't mean blocking out swears, I mean keeping secrets) am I not just hurting myself? I need some kind of outlet right, and this was supposed to be it. I think I'll just make it private, I mean it's not really like anyone reads this anyways just to help my paranoia out.


Geez Louise I'm having such a hard time finding words again, I really need to take up that vocabulary habit again, I mean I've got the vocabulary of a 5 year old right now (who says humongo bugungo anyways ha ha )


That was oddly cleansing and long...I really need to be shot.
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