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Monday, November 5th, 2001
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3:50 am
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12:33 am
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I'd have thought they'ed've cleared this page by now. Somehow I've ended up the "friend of" two users (with whom I've never been in contact) during the past year. I'm not sure I should make more "electron friends." One usually seems plenty.
I've never been able to keep a journal in my life. Not for more than maybe a couple of months. The fact that this thing still exists after nearly a year.... what a waste! Yet--well, I still exist too.... or so I try to maintain the appearance.
Cut to the chase. For all my fine new positive attitude.... I have got to be a bleeding manic depressive or something. Maybe just a depressive. This moment, I am in the very bottom of the bottomless pit, but, then, I can still function. Like now. I know I can get on with my business. If I couldn't get on/couldn't get through the day, I'd feel better. Not wouldn't, but couldn't. I could feel as sorry for myself as I'd like, and it'd be triple-I-fiiine. I haven't got ANY right to complain about anything. Look what I am using this life for right now.
Why why why why why why why do I do this to myself. I bring it on myself. Well, of course I do. Who on the green Earth else makes me feel this miserable, makes me feel, oh, anything. Just me. I live with all of these people, all of these people, but I am almost completely isolated.
It's gotten easier, lately, I have to admit. I have less trouble in social situations. I still have trouble, but less. Might it have something to do with my suddenly intense need for human contact? Yea. That's the gist. Not a want, an actual need. Oh, maybe I could live without it, sure. Not well, though.
My mom seems to care whether I live or die. Thank God for that. My dad likely does the same, and probably my Grandmother does too. I don't envision my sister's life much altered by any sudden disappearance of mine off of the face of the planet. It isn't as if she's got the time of day for me. Is this retribution? Truthfully, my memory is bad. I'm sure I have hurt her feelings a lot all throughout her life. Maybe that's why it makes me cry. Bringing it on myself? Another mystery to unravel when my eyes are drier, I guess. When I'm feeling more pragmatic.
Do I go to bed, or write my paper? The grammar is ailing tonight. That's no excuse. Thirteen point font. Double-spaced. If I don't do it now, I'll just have to do it tomorrow. I have to read a hundred pages of orgo tomorrow. I did squat this weekend. That is no surprise. I am sick and need to go to bed. I'm not sick. I am, however, deeply depressed. I hate the winter, and here it comes. It's the winter, it's the early sunset, it's not having anyone to relate to, it's me, it's me, the problem lies in me. I am nauseatingly responsible.
Positive thoughts. Wouldn't it just be okay to wallow a little bit in this comforting self-pity? Of course not. Sometimes I wish I was still insane. I wasn't afraid of the voices then, and though I don't even hear them now, I'm afraid they'll come back. No, they never told me to DO anything. Like ten or twelve personal monologues in my head all talking at once, all my own voice, all making sense in their own way, but all at once and racing and overlapping. That's what I'm afraid of coming back. But it wasn't that bad at the time. I didn't notice it until I got better. I brought that completely on myself. A lack of attention--negligence, ultimately, on my part. I did that to myself.
Now, I don't ever want to be insane anymore. When I was, though, I wasn't afraid of it. I wasn't afraid to die, or was it that I was just exceedingly careless? If so, I didn't care about the fact that I was careless.
The worst part, when it was happening, at least, was hearing my brain squish. It was annoying. It was a squishing ocean sound in my head. It wouldn't end. Terrible terrible sound.
That song, "Day in the Life," by The Beatles, I cringe during the crescendo. There are some sounds I can no longer tolerate. That is a prime example.
Who I am today, literally today, not at this time of my life, but on this day in my life, had a lot to do with the insanity. The one really good thing about that dark and awful time in my life is that I wasn't afraid, and I didn't know it was so awful at the time. Just the lack of fear, that's what I'd like.
Been there, done that. Get over it. You have class at 9:30. Just go to bed. You have a great grade in theatre. Just write the paper and go to bed. You have orgo that will need to be done tomorrow, and you'll be tired enough. Just go to bed. Forget about the paper, put the past behind you, stop mourning the weekend. No more crying. Ha. No one ever sees me cry, do they.
This place is a mess again. I should go to bed. That is my better option. I feel slightly better. I need a damn support group. I never needed support when I had friends that listened to what I said. Those friendships were going to last forever. How do I know they ever really listened to what I said anyway. Maybe they did. I guess I won't know now. The one person who seems to care ever, I didn't make a point of listening to what she said this weekend. See you again in two months.... if that. Maybe if I went crazy again the little voice in my head at least could have somebody to talk to. I wouldn't be so isolated. Be my own best friend. Ha. I'm that now.
I'm not going to conform (as if I stood for anything). I want to be accepted as different from them. Yeah, we've got different styles. But we should be able to appreciate those, not tear into them. Stop ignoring me. Listen to what I mean, don't read your own meaning into the words you hear. Stop telling me what I like and what is best for me. Listen to what is best for me. ASK what is best for me. These are what my friends don't understand, and why I am so so alone. Right now, at least/anyway/especially.... Sleep it off. Go to bed.
current mood:  depressed
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| Friday, December 8th, 2000
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7:22 pm
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"It's not FAIR!!"--Sarah
"You say that so often, I wonder what your basis for comparison is."--David Bowie
Labyrinth.
Life is unfair. That's been the theme for an indeterminite amount of time now. I think I too used to be an idealist. I only really realized the implications of this profound truth that has become a staple cliche of daily conversation this summer past: Life is unfair. Life truly is unfair. Life bites you in the ass at the most inopportune moments. Life bites you in the ass at opportune moments too--if there are such things as opportune moments to have your ass biten. Hell, it doesn't discriminate.
So, I realized the *really* awful truth: Life is not fair, AND IT NEVER WILL BE. Today I have trouble grappling with the concept. It's so painfully, blatently, and, much worse, evidently true. No matter how you slice it, what the situation, the number of times you rotate the dilemma, somebody's always going to be unhappy in the end. What's worse, there is no magic spell. There are no brownie points, and, by my personal favorite, you cannot even effect sweet harmony by sheer force of will.
A note on idealism: My idealism lasted almost 19 years. It was a pretty good stint. We had some pious times together. We had a feminist movement, a pacifist stage, we were against the death penalty, we took the moral high ground on some pretty big issues. When I stand now, though, it is with only the memory of a perfect utopianistic agenda. "So long, thanks for all the fish."
So, here we are. This world. A paradox--random coincidences. Tragic things happen, good things happen, sometimes not a whole damn lot happens for a really really long time.
Whenever I learn something, the whole amount of things that I will never know become apparent anew, and I am shocked.
I guess what to do is to live in this world, then. Pray for your friends. Friends are the ones who you know with conviction do not deserve the bombs that drop on them.
Of course, there is this one person, and I hope he is okay now, I do not know him well--so I'm very removed, but I do not believe he deserves his bombs. I'm not sure if anyone deserves their misfortune. I only know anyone through my own interactions with them. I don't think people are born fucked up. I think they just get that way. So, I am not the judge, and I am glad of that.
I have accepted the fact that bad stuff happens to good people, but I don't like it.
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