any where you want.

indexarchivesnotesprofileringsdesigndiaryland


all hands on the bad one
(2001-05-06) 9:23 p.m.

Well, I have finally updated some things on Comatised. First, I have added the much needed poems in the poetry section. Then, I have updated the Comatised Design thing. It's still not really done, but at least I organized the portfolio. So I feel semi-productive. Except I need to remember the reason why I'm doing this. Because I don't want to do the awful lit thing. Well. At least I'm doing something.

But the server is so damn slow. I feel like I'm watching a snail race. And it disconnected me several times too. This isn't the first time I've experienced some problems. But I didn't complain anyway because I'm guessing that it's my fault. You know what? I get random 404 errors. Like if I go to the Guestbook directory or the /kaeli directory.. just because it has no index.htm page. Yet, if I just put anything after the root directory, I don't get that custom 404 page. So I don't understand how it works.

My fingers still hurt because I've poked at it so much. I have this compulsive disorder, I tell you. I can't stop it. Not even after my finger's all lumpy and it could barely move. Even now, it hurts when I type. Even so, I feel too comfortable sitting in front of the computer. Not doing much. Not doing anything. I should be in pain. I should be out running or something. Not here. Just not here.

Dammit. I can't stand this itchiness. I need the medications now. I swear, it's going to devour my skin and I won't have any left. I don't even want to know. It's really too bad that I need to use my hands for everything. For typing right now. For writing later. What could I do without it?

It's strange that my mood is so infective. I was in such a foul mood. At least, my face seemed like I was sullen. I just didn't feel like talking and all. Usually, I'd feel so happy and sometimes even hyper during mealtimes. After all, we are eating, aren't we? But today seemed kind of dead. I have no appetite. I have no desire to eat. I think it's kind of a disease. A staying-home-all-day kind of disease. I haven't been out. And I am kind of irritated because of the warm weather. I hate this. It should either be really hot or really cool. Well, just cooler than this. I'm not sure if I should change into shorts or not. I think it's a bit too chilly for shorts. It's humid. That's not hot.

Well, I finally got the medications. I hope it's going to get better. I don't know if I can take this anymore. My skin is gnawing at my sanity. It's so distractive too. Whenever I am thinking, I'm pick at my swollen skin which does not help at all. It just makes it even more red and irrated. And now my whole skin is hot and uncomfortable. So much that it's almost numb. Alright. I really need a cold shower to relieve this. I feel like I have a fever on my skin. Is that even possible?

I really have nothing to write about. That's such a dead thing to say, I know. I look at myself, and see no one. I don't have any emotions anymore. At least, I make myself have no emotions. I think it's easier that way. Much easier. I don't have to bother with myself. With pain. With confusion. But somehow, it still creeps up and stuff. That's why sometimes I'd be temporarily insane. For a second, I'd change into a completely different person.

Well. Maybe that's the kind of person I am. Who would know?

previous & next

from yawen.