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Archive for April, 2002

where oh where…

being deleriously happy. being able to laugh about things until i cried. being able to be happy for weeks by buying myself a $2.oo treat. it sounds so childish — but it feels like i’ve only lost the ability to do these things recently. in the past year, actually. is this growing up? if so, i don’t want it.

looking out the window, i feel a light breeze chilling my skin as i watch the spotted cheery sunlight drop sparkles here and there. just enough to make me squint but not enough to hurt my eyes. where did the happiness go? i ask myself. ordinarily this scenario would have put me into a state of calm contentment — now, i feel nothing. still calm, which is more than i can say about my other states of being… but not content — not in the least. just emptiness.

i feel so completely void. is this “neutrality”? is this the feeling that is just the opposite of contentment? not ecstasy not angst… but just that much past neutral as slightly content?

i don’t know why i question things so much. what is the meaning of anything? what is the point of going on when all we’re going to encounter is more grief if only for those brief moments of happiness? I used to be able to look forward to those happinesses, i used to be able to keep myself content. what happened?

my psychologist is referring me to a psychiatrist. she thinks i need to start medication.

will this bring me back to a state of contentment? i just want to stop feeling so hopelessly sad.

bad luck?

so i’ve had a really crazy strain of randomly bad luck lately.

about a month back, i planned a trip to san diego with my roommate to go visit some friends down there that i’ve been promising to visit for over two years. of course, all of those friends just happen to be out of town on that exact same weekend! how great. so i ended up spending time with my roommate and her friend — and her friend’s roommates. not that that was very bad, but it still was a little awkward for me. anyhow, that same night i went to my first frat party. as i was stepping into the dancing room some [possibly drunken] girl gets up on a wobbly table, promptly falls off, grasps at the air and randomly grabs my glasses as the first thing she can grab and flings them into the raging mass of drunken people.

i was the driver. i didn’t have any other glasses or contacts.


so that was bad. that was just the first in the long string of bad that began to happen. and then i got sick. really really sick. as in a fever every night for almost two weeks and a cough so bad that i couldn’t eat because my coughing would push the food out again– and just to top everyth

graphics talent and what art is

Lately I’ve been approached through IM and e-mail a lot about my work and my so-called ‘talent’. It got me thinking — do I really have any talent? Or do I just have a lot of spare time?

My opinion tends to lean towards the latter. It’s weird, but most of the time I don’t really consider my stuff ‘art’ — sure I’d like to fool myself and make myself believe that putting a couple pictures together and adding random text is ‘art’, but it’s not. It really isn’t.

It’s just a fancy collage. And I’m just playing around.

The hobby that i chose happens to bring me money. It happens to impress people occasionally. It happens to make people think I have talent — but I don’t really. All my earlier stuff looks exactly like anybody else’s earlier stuff… And my recent stuff is nowhere near the caliber that I would like it to be.

So where’s the talent? It’s just a lot of practice and a lot of boredom for people who don’t know any better to ooh and ahh over.

not alone

i know i’m not alone… then how come i feel so lonely? i know i’m loved… then how come i feel so terrible about myself?

my life as compared to … a drawing
i remember once, i had a drawing that i thought was good. i knew it wasn’t perfect, but i liked it. i asked people for their opinions and most seemed to point out the same general area as an error and all gave the same general solution for me to make the drawing better.

i fixed that part according to their wishes (or tried to anyhow)… but in doing so, i somehow disrupted the whole tone of the drawing. now it was different, and something that i didn’t even like. now, it became a very good drawing, but a drawing that i myself didn’t like at all because it was even less of what i imagined it to be in my head. i didn’t like it anymore because it was no longer what i wanted it to be.

the same thing is occuring in my life. i haven’t even fixed what seems wrong with me, but in turn i’m disrupting other parts of me that i felt were alright before. i dislike who i am, and i feel so alone in cleaning up the mess.

lesson 3

i have bronchitis, so i haven’t really been able to upkeep anything in my life, let alone this site… so i leave this with lesson #3.

lesson 3: being strong means telling the truth no matter how much it hurts to do so.


ignoring the hot tears that can’t seem to stop streaming from my eyes, i clawed at my arm. “this is punishment,” i said to myself, “punishment for being who you are.” i wanted to draw blood, but to no avail, my nails are too dull to do that. i tried to pinch myself, twist the skin in a way that would distort it forever. “this is pain” i thought to myself. but it disappeared in seconds, the pain. hours later, the nail marks were gone leaving only long red designs on my arm. less than a day later, only tiny bruises remain. tomorrow, nothing.

i looked at the desk from my spot on the bed. scissors. more punishment. a layer of skin. another layer of skin. i’m cutting too slow, too shallowlly. how come i can’t draw my own blood? i’m useless. i’m a coward. i need to match my insides to my outsides and i can’t do it.

even this, i do half assedly.

today’s lesson in strength: to be strong means to tell the truth, even when it’s painful.

illusions and rambles

what’s in my mind? right now. right here. — absolutely nothing.

I’d love to fool you and tell you that I have a million things on my mind and that my fingers just can’t express the thoughts into words because my mind is going too fast for them. But I’d be lying to you.

and i’m trying to stop that. the lying, that is. it’s detrimental to my health and my relationships with people.

I always want to be the unique one. The special one. The one that makes people go “whoa.” But the unique ones aren’t the ones that make people go “whoa” — not initially, anyhow. Learning to be secure is a difficult task.

it’s like watching dancers. the ones that are mediocre are always eager to show their skills as the ones that are truly talented step back and are simply satisfied with themselves.

i’d like to imagine that in life i’m one of those truly talented — when in fact i’m simply the mediocre. the smiles and compliments are there because I seek them, not because I truly deserve them. Learning to be secure means knowing my own weaknesses.

one of my greatest weaknesses is that i tend to despise others for the very things I dislike in myself. stubborness. closemindedness. loudness. shameless ego boosters. — and so I learn my second lesson: being strong means not hating others for the things I hate in myself.

so it goes. so it goes.

Monday April 8, 2002 at 12:49 pm


Day by day i become less and less the strong person you want me to be and the weak disgusting peon inside that I despise with a passion. The self hatred is turning into something I can barely control sometimes. There are nights that tears come to my eyes for seemingly no reason except the fact that I can’t contain my emotions. Riling and burning within me… I love you and I don’t know how to show it.

It’s too new to me. It’s too hard for me to show you affection in the way that you deserve. It’s so hard. Why do I have to bring you into my confused muddled little world of anguish and pain? Why do I constantly feel the need to share with you my anger and bad feelings when I could focus on the good things instead?

I should go back to being that happy person that held everything in like the way it was at the end of high school. It worked well then, why wouldn’t it work now? At least I was perceived as stronger then — regardless of how I felt inside… at least I was perceived as being a happy person who had no cares and no worries.

But I can’t now… No matter how hard I try — the resources just aren’t there. I feel like I’m going in a downward spiral… helplessly becoming the person inside that I hate… the sniveling insecure bitch that I try so hard to suppress. I wanted to find myself… not revert back to something I worked so hard to escape from.

I need your love.



The other day while I was envy-ing couples who have been together for long periods of time, John said something that struck me.

“Time doesn’t mean anything.”


“Because people change.”

It’s something we all know is true. It’s something we all know is inevitable. How come, though, it’s so hard to accept that that’s the case? It seems so simplistic, this explaination. But why is it one of those things that I can’t keep in mind and adapt to… why is it that I can’t accept it?

It seems like a lot of my problems come from not being able to accept that people aren’t who I think they are. That people aren’t always all roses and daisies or that people aren’t all terrible. Or that people are rarely the same as they are when you first meet them, or when you first get to know them… No matter how hard you try to keep that ideal in your head.

So, in my quest to become a stronger person I learn a new lesson : being strong is learning how to deal with change.


So I’m sitting there and watching John play starcraft and having random chitchat with people passing by when suddenly Jesus busts out with “You know, you’re one of those people who gets stuck in a certain age”.

Weird, I never thought about it that way, but it’s kind of true. There are certain people who age evenly as they grow up… but some, like me seem to be stuck in a stagnant stage where I COULD be at a certain age for a really long time. For example… I’ve looked 15 for at least four years now… and even though I look older than I did at 15, I could still pass for 15 now if I wanted to. (FUCK THAT SHIT!)… I’ll probably suddenly look 21 around… 25 or so and look that age for a while too.

Which doesn’t seem like such a bad thing…. I just wish I wasn’t stuck in this 15 stage for so long. :(

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