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Circular Cycle, Part II
6 min read
{A quick author's note before the following text: what follows was meant to be posted earlier in the summer, about three weeks after my previous journal entry, the one that served as a small autobiographical introduction to myself. Anyways, this was indeed written back then, but I felt that it needed something else before I posted it, and saved it as a draft instead of immediately posting. Still don't know what that thing is, so fuck it, I'm posting it now because I have other journals to post/write, but having a particular order based on date matters to me. Because it's always a journey of emotions and feelings with me. So, yeah.}
-----
Sometime ago, last night as a matter of fact, I reached a bit of an existential crisis while playing a video game. Was it really "existential" though? It definitely served to reveal some interesting things about myself...I think. Let me clarify for you. It wasn't something that I would usually think of when hearing the term "video game". And trust me on this, I've played enough of those to have a rather clear understanding of what gaming is. It's a little game called Cinders (Steam page: more info here), categorized as an adventure and visual novel game. Mainly, it's strengths lie in ridiculously good artwork and storytelling. So, it was during my playthrough of this game that I came to some conclusions about myself. The context is set, but let me fill in the details for you.
Fairly early on in the game, perhaps it is day one or two in-game time, your female protagonist, has the opportunity to either be friendly or flirty with an old childhood friend, one who she now rarely sees due to his owning a business in the local town. A bit later on, depending on your behavior towards this old friend, he will ask the protagonist on a date for that evening. If you accept, the two will meet up at the local tavern for food and drinks, and spend time talking and walking through the streets late at night. Of course, as things go...you are then given the option to "go home" with this date. And, yeah. That fast. That's heavier than I was expecting out of this seemingly lighthearted game. Would not recommend to children.
One guess as to which path I picked from the above presented choices. Yeah, I know. Typical, right?
I suppose I should explain why I consider that typical behavior of mine. If you read my previous journal entries, particularly Circular Cycle (the first one), you need no further explanation at this point. Or maybe you do. But, in any event...
I was going for a "realistic" playthrough of that game. Yes, it's a choose-your-own-adventure style of game, so there can't in all possibility be that many different paths. But, I decided that instead of instantly trying to achievement hunt right away, I would just play the game as if I were the one making the choices. As opposed to just doing what I think the character should or shouldn't do, or just choosing the craziest choice without thinking about it. Not my style, at least in this particular case.
And this brings me to my main problem. I KNOW that if I were in a similar situation in real life, I would have made the exact same bloody choices. Not joking. It's that whole knowing-myself-better-than-anyone-else thing. I mean, I know that I've done shitty things in the past..had shitty hookups and gotten locked into stupid "friends with benefits" relationships more times than I can count. And the sad thing is, I never learn from those. So, yeah, I would end up doing much the same things again, given the right opportunities. Which, as it turns out, I don't ever seem to have a shortage of.
This is where a sigh would go if I could put it into writing.
Anyways, it's a combination of this video game revealing that my [real life] choices aren't always made for the correct reasons, and recent events that have occurred with a specific man, that bring to me to this sort-of "crisis". I can't say that I didn't know what I was getting into with him. And me and him, we've been friends - just friends, with the occasional flirting on the side - for at least a year at this point. So, you'd think he would know me fairly well at this point. Well, maybe I was mistaken, because right now it seems as if he only sees the one side of me. Guess which side that is. Yep. The side that seduces, easily falls in and out of bed with different people, the one that I am, frankly, goddamned sick of having. Because it's beyond pointless! Why bother with all the casual stuff, only to feel lower than low when they - and yeah, they always do - leave me behind, both as a date and as a friend, off in search of the next-best-thing? But I guess he didn't pay attention to the fact that I'd repeatedly mentioned how sick I am of the casual stuff, how I want something that lasts longer than a fucking evening or a fucking week.
Nevertheless, as I sit here, I can't bring myself to feel entirely guilty about the things I've so far done with this person. Yeah, it had been a few months (five, I think), since the last one. So I take some sort of pleasure in knowing that I "still got it" as I think the phrase goes. As a side note, though, it makes me wonder if I was always doomed [somewhat accurate word, there] to end up doing these things with him, even from the first day we met and became friends. Because I always end up that way. Even with people I had intended to just be friends with. Is it any wonder why I (with some horror) so easily identified with the game's protagonist? There are maybe two male friends I've never hooked up with/been friends with benefits with/done anything beyond friendship with. Not surprisingly, they're the ones I'm closest to.
I just wish I had a way to get myself out of this cycle. It's always: feel bad for a while, get flirty, be seductive to anyone and everyone for a while, find my next "fix", make a few mistakes here and there, then break it off because they decide to go after someone who isn't just a placeholder...or we have a falling out while trying to be both friends and lovers...or any one of a dozen reasons. Rinse, repeat. And every time, I'm like a broken record in that I say I'm sick of all that shit, but go right back into it the next opportunity I get.
-----
Sometime ago, last night as a matter of fact, I reached a bit of an existential crisis while playing a video game. Was it really "existential" though? It definitely served to reveal some interesting things about myself...I think. Let me clarify for you. It wasn't something that I would usually think of when hearing the term "video game". And trust me on this, I've played enough of those to have a rather clear understanding of what gaming is. It's a little game called Cinders (Steam page: more info here), categorized as an adventure and visual novel game. Mainly, it's strengths lie in ridiculously good artwork and storytelling. So, it was during my playthrough of this game that I came to some conclusions about myself. The context is set, but let me fill in the details for you.
Fairly early on in the game, perhaps it is day one or two in-game time, your female protagonist, has the opportunity to either be friendly or flirty with an old childhood friend, one who she now rarely sees due to his owning a business in the local town. A bit later on, depending on your behavior towards this old friend, he will ask the protagonist on a date for that evening. If you accept, the two will meet up at the local tavern for food and drinks, and spend time talking and walking through the streets late at night. Of course, as things go...you are then given the option to "go home" with this date. And, yeah. That fast. That's heavier than I was expecting out of this seemingly lighthearted game. Would not recommend to children.
One guess as to which path I picked from the above presented choices. Yeah, I know. Typical, right?
I suppose I should explain why I consider that typical behavior of mine. If you read my previous journal entries, particularly Circular Cycle (the first one), you need no further explanation at this point. Or maybe you do. But, in any event...
I was going for a "realistic" playthrough of that game. Yes, it's a choose-your-own-adventure style of game, so there can't in all possibility be that many different paths. But, I decided that instead of instantly trying to achievement hunt right away, I would just play the game as if I were the one making the choices. As opposed to just doing what I think the character should or shouldn't do, or just choosing the craziest choice without thinking about it. Not my style, at least in this particular case.
And this brings me to my main problem. I KNOW that if I were in a similar situation in real life, I would have made the exact same bloody choices. Not joking. It's that whole knowing-myself-better-than-anyone-else thing. I mean, I know that I've done shitty things in the past..had shitty hookups and gotten locked into stupid "friends with benefits" relationships more times than I can count. And the sad thing is, I never learn from those. So, yeah, I would end up doing much the same things again, given the right opportunities. Which, as it turns out, I don't ever seem to have a shortage of.
This is where a sigh would go if I could put it into writing.
Anyways, it's a combination of this video game revealing that my [real life] choices aren't always made for the correct reasons, and recent events that have occurred with a specific man, that bring to me to this sort-of "crisis". I can't say that I didn't know what I was getting into with him. And me and him, we've been friends - just friends, with the occasional flirting on the side - for at least a year at this point. So, you'd think he would know me fairly well at this point. Well, maybe I was mistaken, because right now it seems as if he only sees the one side of me. Guess which side that is. Yep. The side that seduces, easily falls in and out of bed with different people, the one that I am, frankly, goddamned sick of having. Because it's beyond pointless! Why bother with all the casual stuff, only to feel lower than low when they - and yeah, they always do - leave me behind, both as a date and as a friend, off in search of the next-best-thing? But I guess he didn't pay attention to the fact that I'd repeatedly mentioned how sick I am of the casual stuff, how I want something that lasts longer than a fucking evening or a fucking week.
Nevertheless, as I sit here, I can't bring myself to feel entirely guilty about the things I've so far done with this person. Yeah, it had been a few months (five, I think), since the last one. So I take some sort of pleasure in knowing that I "still got it" as I think the phrase goes. As a side note, though, it makes me wonder if I was always doomed [somewhat accurate word, there] to end up doing these things with him, even from the first day we met and became friends. Because I always end up that way. Even with people I had intended to just be friends with. Is it any wonder why I (with some horror) so easily identified with the game's protagonist? There are maybe two male friends I've never hooked up with/been friends with benefits with/done anything beyond friendship with. Not surprisingly, they're the ones I'm closest to.
I just wish I had a way to get myself out of this cycle. It's always: feel bad for a while, get flirty, be seductive to anyone and everyone for a while, find my next "fix", make a few mistakes here and there, then break it off because they decide to go after someone who isn't just a placeholder...or we have a falling out while trying to be both friends and lovers...or any one of a dozen reasons. Rinse, repeat. And every time, I'm like a broken record in that I say I'm sick of all that shit, but go right back into it the next opportunity I get.
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Let Me Put My Thoughts in Front of You
5 min read
Sometimes, I think I should write more journal entries, to better practice and hone my storytelling skills. But, unless it's a mindless rant or a scattered collection of half-thoughts, I don't really get too many good ideas for journal topics. You're mistaken if you think I'm one of those motivational journalists on here. You know the ones, talking about what art is, what it isn't, how we should approach it as a do-whatever-the-hell-you-feel exercise. That just isn't my style. It's not about putting my thoughts into you, but laying them out on stainless steel platter and inviting you to partake as you see fit.
Regardless of that, though, I do want to make a conscious effort to write more of these. Maybe I'll have something good and worthwhile to say, once in a blue moon. Maybe I'll have nothing to say, and I can be at peace with that. It's not for people that I write. It's because I want to refine my non-fiction prose writing. And this is, best I can tell, a way towards that goal. Well....that isn't entirely true. I do write for people, for that conversation between reader and writer that I would love to see happen. To connect with someone, and maybe have them tell me that they understand something I wrote on a personal level. Those are merely dreams of a person who seeks solace from reality in the things I write, the pen strokes on the page.
So the point of this, is an introduction. A start of a one-sided conversation. If you have read my profile "biography", you already know a few things about me as a person. For time's sake, I'll repeat a few things here.
I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to myself, my mediocre painting projects, my writing. This isn't all bad, because I generally want to have goals in mind, to avoid monotony and have something to strive for. At times, and don't lie, we've all had these times - I hate myself and what I deem my "lack of progress" on anything from exercise goals to my plans for the future. Having a bit of an OCD personality only adds to the fun. I'm really good at deceiving myself, and others - probably a side effect of so many years spent lying to my controlling parents. Things can look fine on the outside, but on the inside I'm a tightly wound ball of worries, anxieties, and fears for the future. One of the things that freaks me out more than anything is fucking up my life/career at a relatively young age and then having to deal with the repercussions all my adult life.
I have many sides to my personality. If you're good at holding conversations, you might eventually figure me out enough to see most or all of these sides. I've been the party girl, the anti-social dedicated student, the mysterious one, the smiling customer service representative, the confident and the insecure, the creative and the procrastinator. There are far more than just these simple labels, but for the hell of it I won't bother trying to list them all. I try things on like different nametags, but never have I once lost myself to trying to be a certain person or a certain type. That's one thing I guess I could say I'm proud of.
I've done a lot of shitty things in the past. Made a lot of choices that I regret, and missed out on good opportunities for one reason or another. All I claim to be is person living on this planet and trying to make something good out of the wreckage from before. I sometimes think of myself as a bottle of shadows...a sort of essence that is the core of my personality. But, I wouldn't say that I'm a dark person by nature, I just cart a lot of bullshit around with me. And I tend to be open about those things. Sure, I'm not the type to tell the bankteller or retail store cashier about how my day/week/month has really been going, but it's now more easy for me to open up about problems than it has been. In recent years, I've been able to let go of a lot of things and events from my past, and chief among them is the fear of how people will perceive me. Hate to sound like a jackass, but it's true that I have trouble giving a fuck if someone doesn't like the way I look, talk, act. It's a refusal to let someone else shape who I am and who I want to be.
Hopefully the previous paragraphs have been articulated well enough for you to learn something, anything about me. Provided that you wanted to, of course. Next journal entry may be a bit happier, so stay tuned to whenever the hell I next update. I do have some good news once in a while, you know. It isn't all journal entries and rants about the people screwing me over. I just have to find the words for it. Somehow, it's much harder for me to talk about the people and things that make me happy and make life worthwhile, than it is to rage and blame ex-lovers for my trust issues and et cetera.
Ending this here, before I get off-topic. See ya next time.
Regardless of that, though, I do want to make a conscious effort to write more of these. Maybe I'll have something good and worthwhile to say, once in a blue moon. Maybe I'll have nothing to say, and I can be at peace with that. It's not for people that I write. It's because I want to refine my non-fiction prose writing. And this is, best I can tell, a way towards that goal. Well....that isn't entirely true. I do write for people, for that conversation between reader and writer that I would love to see happen. To connect with someone, and maybe have them tell me that they understand something I wrote on a personal level. Those are merely dreams of a person who seeks solace from reality in the things I write, the pen strokes on the page.
So the point of this, is an introduction. A start of a one-sided conversation. If you have read my profile "biography", you already know a few things about me as a person. For time's sake, I'll repeat a few things here.
I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to myself, my mediocre painting projects, my writing. This isn't all bad, because I generally want to have goals in mind, to avoid monotony and have something to strive for. At times, and don't lie, we've all had these times - I hate myself and what I deem my "lack of progress" on anything from exercise goals to my plans for the future. Having a bit of an OCD personality only adds to the fun. I'm really good at deceiving myself, and others - probably a side effect of so many years spent lying to my controlling parents. Things can look fine on the outside, but on the inside I'm a tightly wound ball of worries, anxieties, and fears for the future. One of the things that freaks me out more than anything is fucking up my life/career at a relatively young age and then having to deal with the repercussions all my adult life.
I have many sides to my personality. If you're good at holding conversations, you might eventually figure me out enough to see most or all of these sides. I've been the party girl, the anti-social dedicated student, the mysterious one, the smiling customer service representative, the confident and the insecure, the creative and the procrastinator. There are far more than just these simple labels, but for the hell of it I won't bother trying to list them all. I try things on like different nametags, but never have I once lost myself to trying to be a certain person or a certain type. That's one thing I guess I could say I'm proud of.
I've done a lot of shitty things in the past. Made a lot of choices that I regret, and missed out on good opportunities for one reason or another. All I claim to be is person living on this planet and trying to make something good out of the wreckage from before. I sometimes think of myself as a bottle of shadows...a sort of essence that is the core of my personality. But, I wouldn't say that I'm a dark person by nature, I just cart a lot of bullshit around with me. And I tend to be open about those things. Sure, I'm not the type to tell the bankteller or retail store cashier about how my day/week/month has really been going, but it's now more easy for me to open up about problems than it has been. In recent years, I've been able to let go of a lot of things and events from my past, and chief among them is the fear of how people will perceive me. Hate to sound like a jackass, but it's true that I have trouble giving a fuck if someone doesn't like the way I look, talk, act. It's a refusal to let someone else shape who I am and who I want to be.
Hopefully the previous paragraphs have been articulated well enough for you to learn something, anything about me. Provided that you wanted to, of course. Next journal entry may be a bit happier, so stay tuned to whenever the hell I next update. I do have some good news once in a while, you know. It isn't all journal entries and rants about the people screwing me over. I just have to find the words for it. Somehow, it's much harder for me to talk about the people and things that make me happy and make life worthwhile, than it is to rage and blame ex-lovers for my trust issues and et cetera.
Ending this here, before I get off-topic. See ya next time.
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Circular Cycle
7 min read
Just like a motherfucking carousel again...it's everytime that I think I've fixed the problem that it feels as if I'm soon set back again even further than when I started. Sometimes, it's seriously not worth it to even bother, because I know that I'm sure to relapse back into my personal darkness whenever I make an attempt to crawl out of the creeping shadows - those that grasp at me and hold me prisoner within my own past. The past haunts me like I'm seeing ghosts; just like Eminem saying "God it feels like I'm goin' psychotic", and for me the past has a hold on me that I can't shake, can't forget, can't burn away no matter how many nights I stand outside and smoke until my nicotine rush makes it temporarily better.
Sorry, to you, the poor fool reading this; my journals seem to often walk the line between madman's rants and stream-of-consciousness thought. I try for the latter, try as much as I can to speak my mind as clearly as I can. But what sounds right to me most likely confuses you, particularly so the further that you journey amongst my thoughts and shattered words. The thing is, even if you are confused, I don't give a damn, because I have no fear or anger at being judged for the things I write; it's freeing, actually, to write something real and honest - everything put into prose that I can never communicate through the shitty poetry I upload.
No journal entries throughout the month of February, as the spring semester hit me pretty hard, with all of the credits I'm taking plus a new on-campus job that I didn't have over fall semester. It throws an interesting time management nightmare into the mix of getting the hell up for classes and caring enough to finish my work, especially to finish it well.
And anyways, with some of that pointless background information I'll return to the topic and the reasoning behind my circular cycles. It's kind of like a disclaimer, attempting to show that I'm not entirely crazy or ruined by despair, or pissed off at everything as I usually seem when I write the sentences and paragraphs here.
To pose a question: Why is it even a cycle to begin with? Oh, that's right, I let myself be treated like shit by any of my friends, because I believe in the value of staying loyal in a friendship, even when it may be failing; by any of the men I get with, even though I know that the way I portray myself gives them permission to take their liberties with me; and by the few I hold close, that I care for beyond anything, the ones I love and can't ever hate no matter what they do to me. The 'why' behind how I can let people do this to me is beyond my reasoning. Or maybe I refuse to see the truth behind it because it worries me that it's the one demon I never defeated. Still treat myself as worthless and no matter how much I try to hide it, people can see it and think it is acceptable to treat me accordingly. Not that it IS fuck you! It's my personal demon I'm still coping with, and you acting that way doesn't make it any easier to defeat.
What was I saying last time about resurfacing? God damn, I really wish it had stayed that way. Why? I thought he'd given up on me, and stung by his indifference I gave up on being with him. But that was the end of January. Things changed when I stopped being a stupid little coward and went to go talk to him. Things were great...for one day. Somehow this argument about the stupidest things EVER got started when we were only joking to being with, one thing led to another and he ended it by telling me that I was only there to feed him lies and bullshit.
Yes, you read that right. ME be a liar? To anyone I gave enough of a fuck to fall for? Jesus Christ, you must be fucking in a coma to think that I'd betray the trust of anyone I love, anyone I care about, anyone I'm even in a friendship with. Because if you knew ANYTHING, anything AT ALL about me, it's that my past of being lied to and betrayed has made me into a person who would NEVER do that because I still feel covered in knife wounds from when it happened to me over and over.
Screw that relationship over, wrap it up like a present and send it straight to the depths of hell, because breaking things off with him, when we just started them, has officially ruined my month. Excuses, maybe? But I'd say this played a big role in the various problems I experienced as backlash in class and at work. It's never a good idea to skip class as many times as I did....to not show up for the quizzes we had (of course, I couldn't re-do them)....and above all, it's a very bad idea to use your bad feelings to flirt with and seduce the student manager at work. None of those are worth the trouble and don't do anything to take the edge off.
But, clearly I didn't listen to Katy Perry's "Thinking of You" enough times to understand that rebound flings after a relationship has ended don't help either. The thing is, he was the type I liked, similar enough to me in that we both look for merely physical relationships, nothing more or less, but definitely nothing in the romantic category. Problem, that added a new element of desperate to my usual back and forth cycle of flings, was that he looked somewhat like the previous one - that's right, the idiot I still care about but the one who treated me like such a jackass that I can't even begin to talk things over with him. Eyes were a different color, and regardless, I made myself not care when he and his blue eyes pulled me in and made me forget, if only for a few hours.
And that's really the most pathetic thing of it, that he pretends to care about me but doesn't call after the one time. I didn't really expect it but it stung a tiny bit. I'm generally numb to it but sometimes I do want...something else. I'm not sure. I can't say that I'd want a relationship, since of the two times I've gotten serious with somebody it ended very badly. And it's hard to be "with" a person when you have such deep-set trust issues. I'll tell myself it's better this way, to continue my destructive cycle, only hooking up and never searching for something better because I'm not going to find it if I look.
It's a really fucking disgusting cycle, and I hate myself for it, I hate every damn thing about it.Too hard to get rid of it, too tired to try, and too apathetic to even care. "Sunshine in my veins" and "a funeral in my brain", one burning me up equally with unfulfilled desires and with desperation to feel something; the other one a slow regression into myself, equally sickening and painful.
Like water through a drain
I'm spinning down, down, down;
Like the needle in my vein
You're bringing me down, down, down;
Like a dog who's gone insane
You're putting me down, down, down.
Sorry, to you, the poor fool reading this; my journals seem to often walk the line between madman's rants and stream-of-consciousness thought. I try for the latter, try as much as I can to speak my mind as clearly as I can. But what sounds right to me most likely confuses you, particularly so the further that you journey amongst my thoughts and shattered words. The thing is, even if you are confused, I don't give a damn, because I have no fear or anger at being judged for the things I write; it's freeing, actually, to write something real and honest - everything put into prose that I can never communicate through the shitty poetry I upload.
No journal entries throughout the month of February, as the spring semester hit me pretty hard, with all of the credits I'm taking plus a new on-campus job that I didn't have over fall semester. It throws an interesting time management nightmare into the mix of getting the hell up for classes and caring enough to finish my work, especially to finish it well.
And anyways, with some of that pointless background information I'll return to the topic and the reasoning behind my circular cycles. It's kind of like a disclaimer, attempting to show that I'm not entirely crazy or ruined by despair, or pissed off at everything as I usually seem when I write the sentences and paragraphs here.
To pose a question: Why is it even a cycle to begin with? Oh, that's right, I let myself be treated like shit by any of my friends, because I believe in the value of staying loyal in a friendship, even when it may be failing; by any of the men I get with, even though I know that the way I portray myself gives them permission to take their liberties with me; and by the few I hold close, that I care for beyond anything, the ones I love and can't ever hate no matter what they do to me. The 'why' behind how I can let people do this to me is beyond my reasoning. Or maybe I refuse to see the truth behind it because it worries me that it's the one demon I never defeated. Still treat myself as worthless and no matter how much I try to hide it, people can see it and think it is acceptable to treat me accordingly. Not that it IS fuck you! It's my personal demon I'm still coping with, and you acting that way doesn't make it any easier to defeat.
What was I saying last time about resurfacing? God damn, I really wish it had stayed that way. Why? I thought he'd given up on me, and stung by his indifference I gave up on being with him. But that was the end of January. Things changed when I stopped being a stupid little coward and went to go talk to him. Things were great...for one day. Somehow this argument about the stupidest things EVER got started when we were only joking to being with, one thing led to another and he ended it by telling me that I was only there to feed him lies and bullshit.
Yes, you read that right. ME be a liar? To anyone I gave enough of a fuck to fall for? Jesus Christ, you must be fucking in a coma to think that I'd betray the trust of anyone I love, anyone I care about, anyone I'm even in a friendship with. Because if you knew ANYTHING, anything AT ALL about me, it's that my past of being lied to and betrayed has made me into a person who would NEVER do that because I still feel covered in knife wounds from when it happened to me over and over.
Screw that relationship over, wrap it up like a present and send it straight to the depths of hell, because breaking things off with him, when we just started them, has officially ruined my month. Excuses, maybe? But I'd say this played a big role in the various problems I experienced as backlash in class and at work. It's never a good idea to skip class as many times as I did....to not show up for the quizzes we had (of course, I couldn't re-do them)....and above all, it's a very bad idea to use your bad feelings to flirt with and seduce the student manager at work. None of those are worth the trouble and don't do anything to take the edge off.
But, clearly I didn't listen to Katy Perry's "Thinking of You" enough times to understand that rebound flings after a relationship has ended don't help either. The thing is, he was the type I liked, similar enough to me in that we both look for merely physical relationships, nothing more or less, but definitely nothing in the romantic category. Problem, that added a new element of desperate to my usual back and forth cycle of flings, was that he looked somewhat like the previous one - that's right, the idiot I still care about but the one who treated me like such a jackass that I can't even begin to talk things over with him. Eyes were a different color, and regardless, I made myself not care when he and his blue eyes pulled me in and made me forget, if only for a few hours.
And that's really the most pathetic thing of it, that he pretends to care about me but doesn't call after the one time. I didn't really expect it but it stung a tiny bit. I'm generally numb to it but sometimes I do want...something else. I'm not sure. I can't say that I'd want a relationship, since of the two times I've gotten serious with somebody it ended very badly. And it's hard to be "with" a person when you have such deep-set trust issues. I'll tell myself it's better this way, to continue my destructive cycle, only hooking up and never searching for something better because I'm not going to find it if I look.
It's a really fucking disgusting cycle, and I hate myself for it, I hate every damn thing about it.Too hard to get rid of it, too tired to try, and too apathetic to even care. "Sunshine in my veins" and "a funeral in my brain", one burning me up equally with unfulfilled desires and with desperation to feel something; the other one a slow regression into myself, equally sickening and painful.
Like water through a drain
I'm spinning down, down, down;
Like the needle in my vein
You're bringing me down, down, down;
Like a dog who's gone insane
You're putting me down, down, down.
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Resurfacing
3 min read
Counting all the assholes in the room
Well I'm definitely not alone, well I'm not alone;
You're a liar, you're a cheater, you're a fool,
Well that's just like me...
I may have already stupidly promised further activity this month, as I spoke, in such encouraging terms, of becoming "artistic" - my apologies to everybody who had the misfortune to read that terrible piece of poetry/writing I uploaded in December. I'll appease you soon enough...when I can stop looking in the mirror, stop examining my faults and move on already with my life.
So, I've been absent, and writing a journal entry earlier this month does NOT mean I was really here. Writing one thing while both irritated as hell at the world, and suffering under a combination of anxiety, stress, and mood swings certainly isn't a sign of my sanity nor my presence on dA. Apologies, if you thought that I was back, upon reading that last entry.
Depending on how many times I'll skip class, how many excuses my "friends" make to me, and how many insomniatic nights I have during this upcoming semester, I may start polishing and uploading a few things. But to be honest, I've written some dark things lately...things that I'd rather come to terms with and perhaps alter to be less brooding, less violent, less personal. I'm not a fan of sharing my fucking stupid love life with the world. But then again, it's only words on paper, words on a screen, and nobody knows me as anybody on here.
Anyways, just mentioning that I'm back. I was drowning in my hateful arguments, sinking into regrets from the past, but I've reached the surface. It's really fucking awesome to feel like I can breathe. Just had to get rid of that black cloud following me. Of course, now that I've woken my sorry ass up and gotten a grip on reality for the first time this whole month, I've realized that neglecting certain things til now has only caused me several moments of hair-tearing stress, irrational bouts of anger, and shameful paper-bag wearing.
See, there's a cause-and-effect to every problem - in this case, I've brought the problem upon myself in two ways, one by not keeping myself emotionally distant for the first time with somebody new; and two by losing myself to self-pity and sorrow afterwards, rather than looking up at a damn calendar every now and then. The effect? Spring semester is starting Wednesday, and I DIDN'T FUCKING ORDER THE TEXTBOOKS.
Yeah, you have my permission to freak out if you did the same.
Anyways, long story short, I just have to wait until my account processes the check I recently deposited, and then I'll place my order on Amazon. Finally found everything I needed at the lowest possible cost, but still fell off my chair when the total was slightly over $300.
I deserved it anyways. At least the shock/worry/frusteration was enough to get the blood pumping. Aliveness, hurrah.
(note: the music mentioned in the above section, the album by Otherwise - really good, just to let you know www.amazon.com/True-Love-Never…)
Well I'm definitely not alone, well I'm not alone;
You're a liar, you're a cheater, you're a fool,
Well that's just like me...
I may have already stupidly promised further activity this month, as I spoke, in such encouraging terms, of becoming "artistic" - my apologies to everybody who had the misfortune to read that terrible piece of poetry/writing I uploaded in December. I'll appease you soon enough...when I can stop looking in the mirror, stop examining my faults and move on already with my life.
So, I've been absent, and writing a journal entry earlier this month does NOT mean I was really here. Writing one thing while both irritated as hell at the world, and suffering under a combination of anxiety, stress, and mood swings certainly isn't a sign of my sanity nor my presence on dA. Apologies, if you thought that I was back, upon reading that last entry.
Depending on how many times I'll skip class, how many excuses my "friends" make to me, and how many insomniatic nights I have during this upcoming semester, I may start polishing and uploading a few things. But to be honest, I've written some dark things lately...things that I'd rather come to terms with and perhaps alter to be less brooding, less violent, less personal. I'm not a fan of sharing my fucking stupid love life with the world. But then again, it's only words on paper, words on a screen, and nobody knows me as anybody on here.
Anyways, just mentioning that I'm back. I was drowning in my hateful arguments, sinking into regrets from the past, but I've reached the surface. It's really fucking awesome to feel like I can breathe. Just had to get rid of that black cloud following me. Of course, now that I've woken my sorry ass up and gotten a grip on reality for the first time this whole month, I've realized that neglecting certain things til now has only caused me several moments of hair-tearing stress, irrational bouts of anger, and shameful paper-bag wearing.
See, there's a cause-and-effect to every problem - in this case, I've brought the problem upon myself in two ways, one by not keeping myself emotionally distant for the first time with somebody new; and two by losing myself to self-pity and sorrow afterwards, rather than looking up at a damn calendar every now and then. The effect? Spring semester is starting Wednesday, and I DIDN'T FUCKING ORDER THE TEXTBOOKS.
Yeah, you have my permission to freak out if you did the same.
Anyways, long story short, I just have to wait until my account processes the check I recently deposited, and then I'll place my order on Amazon. Finally found everything I needed at the lowest possible cost, but still fell off my chair when the total was slightly over $300.
I deserved it anyways. At least the shock/worry/frusteration was enough to get the blood pumping. Aliveness, hurrah.
(note: the music mentioned in the above section, the album by Otherwise - really good, just to let you know www.amazon.com/True-Love-Never…)
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Damn These Vampires
3 min read
Warning to thrill-seekers: the title has no implications on the journal. (it's actually from a song by the Mountain Goats)
Actually, I lied. Really, it has to do with this journal, in the sense that the vampire as a character can somewhat symbolize roadblocks. And this journal is one of frustration - has it really been that fucking long since I've bothered to type up a few run-on sentences and call it a dA journal? Therefore, the topic of today's fantastic little writing is roadblocks. The paths to excellence, and the unfortunate fallen trees that block a person - be it painter, playwright, or cartoonist - from continuing to "run with an idea" of sorts. On an unrelated note, those fallen trees, or sometimes a person just standing creepily in the middle of the road, have been scientifically proven (by television shows, of course) to almost always lead to a vampire attack once the driver is incapacitated.
Also, this journal concerns (explanation, for the few who view these thought cycles) the reason why I haven't bothered to update in far too many months. But I'm feeling a bit artistic today, which is no surprise, as it is a new year, not a new person though; as usual, my artistic mood seems to strike only when I have a paper or essay due soon...ah, such is the life of a good ol' procrastinator like mehself.
Sorry I seem to change moods back and forth so quickly. I've been told it may be a problem, and looking back through my other journals it is possible that my sudden writing twists can confuse the reader. However, you, dear reader, aren't being forced to read this...so proceed at the risk of your own sanity! It's like entering the dark maze of tunnels in the Mines of Moria, and in this case, you shall either pass or not pass.
Back to the train tracks...I believe I was in the midst of introducing the journal. But, eh, screw that crap. This isn't an essay. Basically, the second reason for I'm feeling artistic, other than the habit of procrastination, owes its origin to a conversation with a good friend late last night. We were discussing several points about my life and goals, and I was trying to avoid an extensive rant on all the assholes in the world (particularly the one I'm starting to fall for...), when he simply told me that spending my time hating the world and being cynical about it would only waste my time. To paraphrase what he said, it's more important for me to spend my time writing, trying to create the next masterpiece, or trying to put some order to my thoughts via an online journal.
Forget this crap that keeps me down like a permanent Monday. And do something useful instead. But then again, to say what I've been saying to myself since the summer months - I have several works in progress and ideas that I think may create interesting poetry subjects.
Will they ever get written? Will I eventually accomplish something? Stay tuned to find out!
Actually, I lied. Really, it has to do with this journal, in the sense that the vampire as a character can somewhat symbolize roadblocks. And this journal is one of frustration - has it really been that fucking long since I've bothered to type up a few run-on sentences and call it a dA journal? Therefore, the topic of today's fantastic little writing is roadblocks. The paths to excellence, and the unfortunate fallen trees that block a person - be it painter, playwright, or cartoonist - from continuing to "run with an idea" of sorts. On an unrelated note, those fallen trees, or sometimes a person just standing creepily in the middle of the road, have been scientifically proven (by television shows, of course) to almost always lead to a vampire attack once the driver is incapacitated.
Also, this journal concerns (explanation, for the few who view these thought cycles) the reason why I haven't bothered to update in far too many months. But I'm feeling a bit artistic today, which is no surprise, as it is a new year, not a new person though; as usual, my artistic mood seems to strike only when I have a paper or essay due soon...ah, such is the life of a good ol' procrastinator like mehself.
Sorry I seem to change moods back and forth so quickly. I've been told it may be a problem, and looking back through my other journals it is possible that my sudden writing twists can confuse the reader. However, you, dear reader, aren't being forced to read this...so proceed at the risk of your own sanity! It's like entering the dark maze of tunnels in the Mines of Moria, and in this case, you shall either pass or not pass.
Back to the train tracks...I believe I was in the midst of introducing the journal. But, eh, screw that crap. This isn't an essay. Basically, the second reason for I'm feeling artistic, other than the habit of procrastination, owes its origin to a conversation with a good friend late last night. We were discussing several points about my life and goals, and I was trying to avoid an extensive rant on all the assholes in the world (particularly the one I'm starting to fall for...), when he simply told me that spending my time hating the world and being cynical about it would only waste my time. To paraphrase what he said, it's more important for me to spend my time writing, trying to create the next masterpiece, or trying to put some order to my thoughts via an online journal.
Forget this crap that keeps me down like a permanent Monday. And do something useful instead. But then again, to say what I've been saying to myself since the summer months - I have several works in progress and ideas that I think may create interesting poetry subjects.
Will they ever get written? Will I eventually accomplish something? Stay tuned to find out!
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