Girl, Interrupted
| You're a black hole | May 1, 12 @ 6:45pm |
| 4.16
Never thought it would matter, or that it would effect how I feel. But I feel absolutely sick to my stomach. That feeling where you...sink. I want to say I'm not petty. I want to believe I'm not. Sometimes I am. So much disdain for you. Fuck. |
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| Instinct | Apr 24, 12 @ 12:15pm |
| I've strayed from writing because it has lost its therapeutic appeal.
Instead, all the things I work to keep under the radar float to the surface and I am faced with the reality of who I am. The word float seems peaceful. The onset of these emotions is anything, but. Otherwise, I work to stifle anything that threatens to disrupt the unlikely facade I have taken to wearing. Before I know what I am going to type, I find tears welling in my eyes. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm not recalling any memory in particular. Maybe I'm appalled that I share more with a screen than any person I know. I try to think of what could be the source of all this pain and turmoil, but I find no culprit. It very well may be that I am my own worst enemy. I do not intentionally wallow in my misery. I find disdain and resentment for myself are the primary emotions evoked, by these purges of words and ideas. ---- The past few times I wake, I feel surreal. In a dream still. I am on the verge of panic. Really really bad. I want to end this. I want to eliminate all and any extra need for concern. I think I am insane. I don't know what's wrong with me. Fuck. If only I knew...what to do. |
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