I can't sleep. As obvious as it is. Eight hours of sleep can be wasted just by closing my eyelids. Why not just stay awake? Time wasted can never be brought back and recycled. Fifteen years. How long, or how short is that?
I am nothing but time. Let time be wasted. When there's no more time left, you know what will happen to me.
I wait for things to happen and they never will. Things are unpredictable. Why. It's not even a question - it's the way it is. No one and nothing can explain such things. Nothing is forever. Nothing includes everything, anything and all the things I am after.
Perfection, beauty, Mr. Right (why must he be the Right one?), intelligence, happiness, money. I'll fall, bleed, and skin myself. Over nothing. It's like how I used to catch butterflies using nets when I was 5. It was quite an accomplishment when I get some, but I let them go eventually. Most of the time they just escaped from my grip. I was too weak. Happiness will not last forever. I want it. I want to hold it tight and never let it go and watch it dissolve. Sadness is not forever too, but no one desires it. It's unwanted. It is lonely, dying for company. Probably why it stays on us longer than happiness. It grips us tight, and if we shake it hard enough, it will then let go of us. I'm too weak - I can't. A company is a company is a company. On the surface, I appear to be smiling... looking happy. To cover up the depth of my sadness and loneliness.
What's the use of wanting, when I won't get what I want. Life's not under my control. It's pre-destined. Time is everything. Once it's up, we'll all fade. We'll be the same. Nothing else matters - we'll be the free particles.
Distance. I don't like it when you come up to me. I want to admire you from far. I wish to hug you and hold you closer to me, so I can feel the warmth love generates. That is, if you care and love me for me. I know what rejection is. I feel it all the time. People staring at me and saying nothing. No smiles on the faces. I'd rather think you are a friendly person, by painting such nice pictures of you from afar, because I don't know what kind of person you are. Reality is made up by imaginations.. maybe. When you come close to me, I fear, if it's out of obligation, or out of pity.
Pathetic as I am to you right now, I do have the littlest of my pride. I don't want you to look down on me. I am 5'6.5", and if you're taller, please don't intimidate me further. Mates come to me, saying:
"Hi, how are you?"
There are no smiles on their face. Painted, is just bewilderment and curiosity. Cold. You feel that before?
"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
They look away like total strangers. Won't it be better if they don't even ask me anything in the first place at all? They leave me hanging. Rejected, I turn my head straight and continue to think and imagine things. Sometimes I cannot separate dreams from reality and I talk nonsensical stuff. I'd convince myself about things I made up, and deny myself of the real things. Then again, what is real.
Scientists can't convince me - I don't like science. I do badly in Chemistry as well as Physics. Math.. I am okay in it. It's practical. Numbers are. They hold so many meanings to me. They determine my feelings, almost all the time. Anorexia, is a game of numbers.
I want to hold you close. But I will have to let you go and I don't like that. Why can't I be selfish and own you. I hate to let you go. I went into a gift shop and I saw a huge teddy sitting on the glass rack. I hugged it. It felt so good. Maybe it was lonely, waiting for someone to bring it home. The pricetag was evil. 50 was stated on it. I didn't have it. The salesgirl glared at me disapprovingly. So I had to let it go. Nobody wants to be alone.
Given the choice or not, I am lonely. Alone in this room. Don't bang on my door, because you'll kill the silence. I like the silence, but it's too quiet, it scares me. I am easily intimidated. I am supposed to grow stronger, but why am I weaker with every second that passes me by. I feel tired. I should sleep, but I don't want. I can't lose to sleepiness.
I am fussy. As obvious to you, but I never thought I was. Thanks Gav, for telling me that I am. I was quite surprised. I never thought I was. Maybe I am, like you, a stranger to myself. I am supposed to know myself the best, but I fail to even identify my most prominent character - my fussiness. I am, a fool to myself. I'm stupid in many ways, but it's hard to accept that I don't know myself to well. I have to depend on you, dear strangers, to tell me what kind of person I am. I am a failure in many things, but never so bad that I cannot get up and get on with life. But still, a failure is a failure.
My life is a palette of two spaces. There's only room for two colors. Black and white. I cannot see shades of gray. There's no neutrality. I'm either good or bad. I'm either accepted or rejected. I can't be colorful. I can try using my mixing skills, but it'll only end up messing things up. And you know messed situations are hard to be cleared up. You will only feel tired afterwards and wonder, why even try? Leave things as neatly as they are, in their own places. Keep my itchy hands to myself. Keep my aching heart in its place and never let it jump, even in joy... I might lose it when joy fades away.
What are we living for. Hopes? But hopes can die. We're not immortals. Why do I kill it before hopes can prove itself to be alive. Why don't I allow chances. With every chance, there's 50% possibility of a failure. Win or lose. If you don't allow it to happen, you get nothing and you won't feel like you have made the wrong move.
I'm writing now, just to keep my brain moving. Keep it active. My fingers are moving, why. I don't know what controls them. My brain... I ask you before, and I'm repeating it now: What controls the brain?
Things make us whole. Love, money, things, possesions, organs, skin, flesh, fats..and many more. Without them, we're just a fraction. I only have time, myself, and basic possesions. I have not much money, not much love. I am incomplete. Like a piece of glass about to break, I am easily shattered, broken. I am considered okay by the unfortunates. They are worst. They have lesser than I.
Infinity. I don't know what's the worst to come, and even when the best does, I'll never know and I'll take it for granted. I won't be and I will not be guilty of it. How would I know. Regrets are useless, but the effects are permeanant. Certain things change your whole life drastically. The first stupid step brought in so many others.
I wish. I wish to be closer to you and hug you, and feel you, and never let you go. For all time. For the rest of my life. It is something worth dying for, isn't it? Can I be selfish and own you. Possess you. Can I be selfish, just this once? Will you be with me and never run away?
Am I being stupid again now writing this?
5:44 a.m. - 2004-08-10
Recent entries:
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