Stale. Bored. Limp. Agitated. Hollow. Empty. Worthless. Wordless. Inconceivable. Stretched. Blind. Apathy. Insomnia. Binge. Refuse. Flat. Tempid. Withered. Wilted. Eyes closed and waiting for the day to bring me something that I can work with. Can you read me? Do you ever understand? Have you seen it? I can't seem to focus on things anymore. It's an odd feeling to discover that you don't care about things like you once did. I don't care. I'm wanting to but I just can't muster up anything.

I'm awake and red eyed while my brother is outside starting his car to go to work. I haven't slept yet. I can't let myself fall asleep anymore. I have to make myself sleep. I need drugs or alcohol or drugs or drugs and it's never enough. I take more and more and more but the sleep doesn't come and the pain doesn't leave my head and I still can't sleep. I can't let myself fall. My eyes want to close but they won't. It feels like they're glued or stapled or pinned open and they feel red and dry and I can't seem to shut them. there is too much to see. for some reason coffee sounds like a good idea right now but i haven't even been in my bed tonight. i looked at it for a while. i sat here in my chair and i stared at the inviting folds of my blankets and the bulging pillows but it looked cold so i stayed here in my chair and now i can't bring myself to turn back around. this isn't happening. Can you hear this? this noise. this screaming. this shouting at me and at you and it won't seem to quiet down. you never hear me. i've been shouting at you for some time now but you never seem to hear me. i thought fondly of cutting into my flesh tonight. does that shock you? it's funny how thoughts can be powerful but they remain thoughts and simple until one decides to take that thought and put action to it and then it becomes real and something that screams for attention and that people can't ignore. i've often thought about putting thought with action and seeing where i would end up but right now i like it here. in my chair. with you so far away and no one to hear me.

everyday is new and the same and i think about how it used to be and how things are now and where i want to be tomorrow and know that i won't be there tomorrow but that i'll be here and i wonder why i even... it makes no sense. i can't justify it. i can't define it. i can't define you or me or him or her or that guy over there. i don't care either. i'm uninspired and i'm craving a change. i'm beyond craving. i'm screaming and begging for a change but there isn't anything to change but me. everything else is something or someone that I can't afford to be. If i disappeared tomorrow would anyone notice that i was missing? what if i left a note. i would send you a postcard but then i would run again. i think i might hate you. i know that i hate you. i'm not sure how i feel about you. i'm running out of drugs. i wish i was running. running away from you and him and her and that guy over there. did he see me? did he seem to be looking at me or at you? i couldn't tell.

i was watching a mummy on television today. it was disgusting. it was beautiful. i tried to eat when the tv was on but i couldn't make myself want to. the mummy was a woman who lived in 250BC and when she died she was wrapped tightly and placed in a cave in the Andes Mountains and people would come and light candles infront of her body and leave offerings and the candles were burning her hands that hugged her knees like i'm sitting right now except my hands aren't hugging me because i'm typing but i'm curled up sitting in my chair and if i didn't have to type i would have my hands squeezing my legs together and thinking about my blood flowing through veins in my body that connects me to me and how my heart is beating inside me and things are doing things inside me that i can't control. i can't control anything anymore. i can't even let myself fall asleep. i can't make you understand. i can't help you understand. i don't have it in me. you don't get it. i can't help you. but this isn't about you. this is about me. this is about everything that isn't you because you don't count for anything anymore. you don't count. do you feel? can you feel this? can you hear me? you never ever ever ever ever ever ever hear me. i scream and you turn away. that's interesting isn't it. i know it is. i think i might have tea instead of coffee. i wonder. i don't want to move. i would sell my soul right now for the tea to appear magically and be wonderful and perfect and the best fucking cup of tea that i've ever drank in my entire life and i wouldn't have to get up and face the ridicule from my working family by walking into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea by myself because they're worse than you are. they get me less than you do and i know what she'll say. she'll say i should see someone. someone will give me a vile of pills and i will give them money and the pills will save me and i'll be all better. but i don't want to see anyone. i want a cup of tea. is that too much to ask? i can't stop. i don't want to stop. i want to feel exhausted but instead i feel numb and void and my toes are cold. my hands are chilled but my body is warm in it's curled up position but my toes are cold and i wish i hadn't taken my socks off. did i just talk about my toes? maybe i should stop. i should stop and go outside and take more drugs and drink tea and lay down in my cold bed and close my eyes and pray. pray for sleep to come. pray for the nightmares to go away. maybe that is what i should have talked about. the nightmares. oh the nightmares. how wonderful they are. they don't stop. they don't go away and they come back every time i close my eyes. my mind is not safe anymore. my mind is not my friend. dreams. i remember those. goals. i remember those too. i don't have either of those anymore. baby steps. tea. drugs. sleep sans nightmares. it's a new day already and i'm still here. i'm not going anywhere. maybe i'll walk out into traffic but that would involve leaving my house. maybe tomorrow...

this feeling that i have inside me is overwhelming. I'm still trying to figure out if it's sadness or relief and the fact that I can't seem to define it right now kind of bothers me. Maybe it's a bit of both.

Today I was hurt in a way that I haven't ever been hurt before. Now I just need to figure out how to grasp some sort of closure on a part of my life that consumed 4 years of my heart. Now I feel hollow and nausious- though I blame that on the bottle of Bailey's that I consumed today.

I have nothing left to say.

It's after 7am and I'm still wide awake. So far tonight I've ate a sandwich, watched 3 movies from start to finish and hid under my covers off and on for about 2 hours. I've drank a glass and a half of water. I stripped down and tried to rearrange my pillows to get myself as comfortable as possible but it has all been worthless. the only thing I haven't done is smoke a cigarette but i just can't bring myself to that... not yet. If I'm still awake at 9 it may come to that.

this sucks. drugs don't help. alcohol doesn't help. what the fuck am i supposed to do? I think there's something sincerely wrong with me.

So this is Christmas...

To me it felt like any other day. Except I got a card from my parents and was forced to spend the evening with about 25 of my relatives. I like most of them... But now it's over and everyone is gone and my house is quiet again and this is the part I like best about Christmas. The time when everything goes back to normal and disappointments don't feel as disappointing because they are just the every day variety. It somehow isn't as bad to be passed over and ignored, stood up or agitated by people when it isn't a holiday. (Note: That last statement doesn't make sense and I know this. I just wanted you to know that I know but decided to leave it there anyway.) I'm trying to remember a time when I liked Christmas and the holidays in general and it kind of sickens me. Is it a bad thing that I miss seeing presents under the tree and stockings actually hung by the fireplace, because I haven't seen that in years. It really isn't fair to say that I miss those things because "miss" isn't really the right word. All the effort behind the holiday is gone in my family and I'm actually pretty neutral on that subject. I'm looking forward to the year when I won't even see my family at Christmas. I'm looking forward to the year when I'm officially not having to participate in the holidays at my house. (That probably has a lot to do with the fact that for ever family event I do nothing but grunt work and manual labor the entire time and for days before hand.)

this post is stupid. I'm babbling about nothing- re-enforcing my last post about me not being able to write anymore. Was I right? Or was I right?

I'm beyond frustrated. My writing isn't happening at all this semester and right now I'm about ready to rip out my hair. I'm a disappointment. Beaten before I even try, I sit here wondering why I even attempt to make sense of what is going on in my head. Writing used to be my escape, now it's become my enemy. Where I once looked forward to spawning new ideas and characters now all I have is bitter frustration and forced words about my life and past that I can't think about without cringing. THIS BLOWS. Time and time again I sit here thinking about how I want to quit school and more recently about how I don't want to write anymore. The truth is I don't want to do anything. I have nothing more to say. I'm uninspired. I'm tired. I'm walking into the gallows tomorrow knowing that I've fucked up again but there isn't a damn thing that I can do about it. They want me to open my mind but I'm afraid that there isn't a creative bone left in my body. Part of me feels dead and that hurts me more to say than anything I've ever let myself admit. I've got nothing left and I'm drowning because of it.

This has been the worst year of my life. Everything leading me along this downward spiral. Maybe tomorrow I'll get hit by a bus.

Today has felt like a dream, mostly because it was. I'm an asshole but you all knew that already.

I have nothing else to say.

"cock juggling thunder cunt"

I feel dead inside.

It's a surreal feeling to be me right now. I know in my heart where my life is about to go but instead of standing up and running I'm sitting here watching it happen as if it were a movie. I have dreams like this. Dreams where I'm not even there- 3rd person dreams where I'm not even a character but my eyes are there watching the show. But this... this sucks. Knowing. Not knowing. Being led around like a puppy on a leash. Wondering when I'll be put out in a cardboard box on someone else's doorstep.

Did I just compare myself to a dog? ... Good grief.

I suck. Every time I sit down to write it's always the same. I'm sorry to whomever may actually read this. If I had something more interesting to say, than I'm not dead yet, I would. But as of now, my life is a pitiful mess.

Cheers. It's Monday. Time to drink a bottle of wine by myself. I love Tradition.