The beginning of November.

I feel extra on edge today. Extra panicky. I feel like for some reason I am externally able to cope better today but the inner sadness is overwhelming. Every time one of my bosses says my name, or if a friend seems upset about something regarding me, I feel like the world is about to end and my heart pounds crazily. None of this should matter because one day I will be dead.

However, since I'm still here...

I'm tired of this job. I'm tired of not having my "family" to fall back on. Not for monetary reasons, but for emotional ones. I'm tired of my problems spiraling out of control. I'm tired of not having the motivation for some STUPID reason to not make that first step to get into therapy. I'm tired of money problems and not being able go to go school full time (yet). I'm tired of not singing. I'm tired feeling ugly and insecure. I'm tired of my abandonment issues. I'm tired of physical pain.

Bitch, bitch, bitch. Whine, whine, whine. Complain, complain, complain. I am less than two years away from 30 and this is who I am. It's fucking pathetic.

Throughout the day...

and as I said...

Nine Forty Eight
Time to be fake and
I wonder what I am truly doing
with days that show new ways
to new wrinkles

But on my way here
I moved one of my fingers across the wheel
and I decided I wanted to write
about how I love sunlight going through my digits
turning my skin reddish-pink
then I realized I think that was the first time
such a thing happened
because before this,
I only had used artificial light during darkness
to create such an experience

My nails are painted black
for this time of year
Silly of me because I love them this way
I should do this more often
I should remain in denial
I should be true to myself
All of this at once
Why am I here?

I feel like an abandoned children's classroom
Or maybe I feel like a child abandoned in a class room
Watching all the special little projects falling off the walls

I don't belong here.
I feel like a Radiohead song (for the record I LOVE Radiohead).

I feel like nothing can or will ever help.

I never will have the "balls" to end it.
I cannot pray for death during sleep because I never pray so why would anyone/thing hear me now?
I will end up binging on misery for the rest of my days and never purging.
It's like I'm a puppet.
I'm not holding the strings that guide me/this.
I DON'T WANT TO BINGE ON MISERY.

"Why don't you get help?"
*smiles*
Help? No, no. You don't understand.
There is no help for something like this.
There is no help for someone like me.

Just distractions.
Just ...

I'm tired of not being believed about my Fibro.
I'm tired of ALL my physical problems that I have no complete control over.
I'm tired of people not understanding the mental hole I am.
I'm tired of people and tired of myself and I don't even know if I am a person to be included in this bunch.

I'm seriously considering the fact that I may be an alien.

Why when so many things seem okay, they really aren't?
I SHOULD BE HAPPY. LA LA LA BULLSHIT FUCKERY HAPPY. LA LA LA.

I wrote some miserable and some not so miserable shit on a text document at home over my couple days off last week but have not posted it due to the fact that I don't have internet hooked up yet there. I almost don't ever want it at home anymore. I just don't care. You know what I care about? Sleep. I just want to sleep. I want a giant rewind button even though I firmly believe that regret is a pointless emotion.

I have a hard time lately seeing pictures of myself. Alone or with people. Is that really me? How do others see me? Why is anyone chosen what they are chosen from skin to experiences?

I have only had one cup of coffee today. No food. If I do eat while I am here at work, it will be candy. Even though I have a lunch. I like to torture myself.

I want a cigarette but I won't bother. A) I am almost broke still, until the end of the month and B) It's been almost five weeks. WHY DO I EVEN CARE THOUGH?!

Piece of candy #1 consumed.

I need to sing.

Piece of candy #2 consumed.

I should be going to the bank for my bosses. I am procrastinating. I would walk on a day like today because the weather says so, but I am so drained.

I went to the bank.

I just want to be happy. Are my standards to high? How can such a low life have such high standards?

Swirls and spots on my skin
These patterns are mine
Damaged or not

Yep. Nope.

Simply put: I am not well. Yet I am able to talk to and help so many damn friends and other people. I cannot help myself and nobody can help me. I'm afraid to take medications because THEY NEVER WORK. I feel so trapped. I feel so fucking trapped. All this isn't a cry for help. It's just a cry. Like any other day. Tears fall from my face or I cry on the inside.

Things are supposed to be better now. I don't get it. I am disease.

Here is why three weeks with no cigarette really doesn't matter. Alternately: Temporary Atheism? Second alternate: Simply severe depression?

Words cannot express the anguish my "soul" experiences. Yet, I still write. Why? Will it serve as some magic cathartic vessel? No. It's just the slight and pathetic hope it will help. I suppose it's a distraction. Passing each dying minute of this body's "existence". Making this temporary stint on Earth seem meaningful. I find this life to be pretty cheap. Here, listen to some wonderful music. Watch the ocean crash onto land. Bake some delicious fucking cookies... Whoops! Sorry! All these things must cease for you since now you must cease. Right. Well, if you believe in an afterlife, then that's just dandy. Hey, do you think there is a 'beforelife'? Fuck. There is now. We choose what we choose to make it seem worth something. To distract from the inevitable. Hobbies, "God", work, sex, shitty writing - whatever. Pain. No pain. Old. Young. We all just go. It doesn't matter if anyone even reads this.

I am an alien.

I have 'Mr. Self Destruct' in my head and I haven't heard it in forever.

No, I will never "grow out of" NIN. You have to be out of your mind. In a completely different manner than the way I am.

I have not made attempts to get help in the past week. I don't know if it's because I'm so preoccupied with the move or if it's because I'm always awful at making that 'first step'. Or both. All I know is, I'm fucked up. Terribly so. In so many ways.

I need a tattoo or a piercing or SOMETHING soon even though I cannot afford it. I cannot cut myself anymore because it doesn't solve anything and I will lose someone because of it. It's a hard craving to push away, but I have been. Just like cigarettes (almost two weeks without any).

I went to a Project Adventure thingy yesterday that was free. Jill invited me to come along with J. We met her girlfriend, Trey, who seems sweet. Part of the group of challenges involved a gigantic rock climbing wall. I've never done such a thing before. Out of the four of us (friend wise, not group wise) I was the only one who made it up. I don't know how I did it, especially not being in the best shape lately but I did. It was the ONLY thing that made me feel semi-decent in a long time. Other than that, I wish nothing was strapped to me so I could just jump and die. Yes.

There is a lot of human nature I do not understand and find hard to accept. Most people, even my most crazy friends don't understand why I am like this. I try so hard to "give in" and "give up" but I can't. I'm left with seeming delusional to others.

Also, my Mom is being a cunt as always. I'd like to think that one day I would break this cycle and give my future children everything I never had (emotionally speaking and maybe somewhat material speaking). I also think that maybe I should never have children and just hide in a room and starve to death. I don't want to end up like her. I also want to bring lives into this world that are an extension of me and have them live the life I never could and that would make me feel happy in and of itself. If I have to be a vessel, then fine.

I'm out of my mind. I don't want to be sitting here at work and my crack is STILL gone (Scrabulous).

I just want to cry. If there was a "God" I would want Him/Her/It/____ to hug me right now. Tightly. Warmly.

I need... something.

**Edit** The Project Adventure thingy is actually the Alley Pond Park Adventure Course. Jill posted a bunch of pics that are less than flattering on MySpace. I've already ganked them and will put them up there as well for those of you who are on my MySpace to see sooner than later.

Very, very depressed. Whatever pops into my mind.

Last names are despicable
First names are a nuisance

No two clouds are ever the same
No two waves are ever the same

My feet are roots
My body is a stem
My head is the flower
My hairs are the petals

The intangible tumor in my mind is named Misery.

If I pick the skin around my nails, things will be better. I try to make it all even. No parts sticking up. I don't care if any parts are redder than pink. It's still smooth. Smooth is better. Smooth is better. Smooth is better. Tiny balls of blood will clot and wash away. No worries. No worries.

Cup. A teacup. Soft clank to a saucer.

I'm done with life but apparently it's not done with me.

I love one of my best friends ever, Jill. She is talking to me as all this random shit pops into my mind.

J just texted me and now I want to cry.

Forget whatever flows into my head. None of it matters, really.