Archive for Rigamarole
April 23, 2002 at 4:00 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
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.
April 18, 2002 at 1:16 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
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.
April 17, 2002 at 4:57 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
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.
April 10, 2002 at 4:09 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
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.
April 8, 2002 at 7:49 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
Unsent
Baby,
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.
Me.
April 8, 2002 at 1:10 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
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.”
“Why?”
“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.
April 3, 2002 at 3:07 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
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. 
April 1, 2002 at 12:48 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
In the last entry I was asked why I do this. This blogging stuff. That’s a good question. It’s a question I often ask myself. At times, I don’t even truly know the answer. It’s a way to empty my brain of stuff. It’s a way to release stress. It’s a way to become who I really want to be — in writing.
Writing an online journal isn’t a new thing for me. This isn’t some new fad that I’m just going after because everyone else I know has an online journal. If you’ll look at my archives (the drop menu above) You’ll see that my entries date back to november of 1999.
It’s the feeling that my voice is actually heard (however imaginary that may be) that has kept me going the way I do.
—
To those of you who criticised me and actually had the courage to leave your e-mail, thank you, I’ve replied and you should have new mail in your mailbox.
Thank you to those of you who are sticking up for me… 
I’m very appreciative of it.
March 21, 2002 at 1:21 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
writing shouldn’t be a heart-wrenching gut churning affair. writing here shouldn’t make me nervous, shouldn’t make me feel afraid of who might read it. i shouldn’t feel scared that people will judge me — they’ll do it anyway. these feelings are unwarrented . . .
but they’re still here.
—
It’s a constant struggle day to day, not to feel upset, not to be depressed, not to dwell on how loser-ish I feel. No matter how much I accomplish, how cocky I act, my insecurities come back to bite me in the ass. I hate this shit.
I feel the need to explain myself more:
The last few days I’ve just been constantly filled with these feelings of self-doubt, self-hate, and mad insecurities. The weirdest part is that I don’t even know why I’m being plagued with these feelings. It’s not like anything worse is happening around me than it ever has before… it’s not like good things aren’t happening.
I have a wonderful boyfriend. I got an A- in the class that I was expecting to do really badly in. (The class i was stressing out about the most). I have friends. I have my car keys again, after losing them for an entire week. I’m not lacking anything….
and yet there’s still this nagging feeling… Maybe I should mark this as the beginning of a period of abstinence from illegal substances.
Or maybe I should seek out some more.
March 19, 2002 at 3:04 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
I need to get away from this place somehow. Drive around or something. Too bad I’m afraid to drive on the highway still. After months of living in Southern California you wouldn’t think that I’d be afraid of anything. I need to feel separated from school I think.
After I finish my laundry, I swear.
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