index� archives� notes� profile� rings� design� diaryland

This lack of creative energy is drowning me. I felt like I've reached a dead end.

I could tell that this school thing is really affecting me. I wrote a poem a while ago and I saw just how HORRIBLE it was. It lack fluidity.. lacks this special spark that I usually hide within my words. I read it.. and nothing. No emotion surfaces up. It seemed so one dimensional. It's like I am afraid to touch the boundaries of creativeness.

It's my natural impulse to pressure. Stress, that is. I don't exactly break. I... bounce? I don't know what I do. I just do nothing, I guess. Sit back, and try to think about nothing at all so it wouldn't be any more depressing than it really is. I can't be doing any harm to the situation if I take no action, right? Well, that's the way I see it. I'm too afraid to do anything.. too afraid that I'm going to do something wrong again.

It's happened too many times already. I'm not sure why I still let it happen.. still LET me make the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe it's pure laziness.. or ignorance. But I don't THINK that I'm ignorant. Just a bit lazy. Okay, VERY lazy. I thought that my determination would overcome this laziness. That my psychotic mind would inspire me. That somehow, I can do it. Somehow? Well, that's the problem. I wish and hope and that's all. I don't do anything about anything.

The thing is.. I FEEL gross. I shudder when I think about this body I have, this life I have, this thing I have. I wonder why I have this lopsided rib cage, such a long scar, and rotting skin. I'm still not sure what it is between my toes, but it hurts when I want, and the skin is covered with fungus-like things. It's disgusting. I don't know just what it is. I think I'm going to bandage my whole right foot.. because I think it's going. I hope it's not going to devour my whole foot or something. Gosh. That's why I feel like this sick disgusting person who's slowly rotting away. I'm trapped in a body I don't like.. trapped in a mind I don't like.

Furthermore, everything I do somehow disgusts me. When I eat, I feel like I've eaten too much. When I eat when I'm hungry, it's usually in bursts of big food amounts at the wrong time. So when I do eat at the right time (during actual meals), I'm already full. When I sit around doing nothing at all so I wouldn't have to think about something, I end up worrying about what I should have been thinking about. When I get up and actually work really hard on my work, I feel so tired that I just want to rest. Then there is times in front of this computer, and feeling guilty that I should have been doing my work. It's impossible to get out of this cycle where I constantly torture myself for anything that I do. Yet, if I DON'T torture myself, I'd feel guilty AGAIN for not doing something about my attitude.

Because once I make a mistake, it's hard to go back. And I hate admitting that it's my fault. But, of course it is. Everything wrong in my life is my fault. Except maybe how I look so ugly, and how I'm born with a strange body shape. Or how I'm prone to cavities, and how I get pimples. But maybe it's still MY fault anymore.. after all, I was born right? Did I want to be born or not? Did I have a choice? Maybe if I didn't want to be born, I didn't have to. I probably wouldn't even have been born. So. Everything REALLY is my fault.

That's just so comforting. But in a way, I realize how much I am in control of my life. It's a scary thought. It's like driving. I see all the other cars out there, with a driver who can control the car completely. One little mistake can cause an accident and such. What I hate is when another car is driving right beside me.. I get a bit nervous about that. I'm not sure if the car is going to see me and ram into me. And I'm still afraid that my turning is a bit off and I'm going to crash. It's like what the "stress" is doing to me. Except driving is not affecting my mental mind. And my craziness would not affect it. Not completely anyway.

Then there are my parents. Especially my darling mother who thinks I'm a little six year old again. After her screaming at me for something that I didn't know, I finally screamed back --- in tears. I say that I can't stand this. Can't stand the school.. the stupid teachers with the pressure they put on us. I screamed about Chemistry. History. All those things came out, and she's like.. well, why don't you write a note, and I'll sign it or something. Talk to the teacher. I'm like, "NOOO." Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in elementary school? Noo. I'm not. My parents aren't going to do this. I'm a grown up baby. I can cry by myself now.

It's not only that. She complains about everything I do.. even more than I do about myself! She told me not to wear the shirt I am wearing today.. a laundry-shrunk short white shirt because my "stomach" is showing. And my stomach wasn't really even showing because I have shortalls on that COVERS it. But then she's like, the sides are showing! So she thinks I'm a slut because a little skin on the sides are showing. She justifies this by saying, "Well, what are you trying to show anyway? It's all FAT." What the hell? She always does this. Intentionally trying to make me feel badly because she can. She wants me to feel her power, just because I hardly think of her as a mother anymore. And making people feel badly is something stronger than making people feel better.

Even if I really am fat (I probably am anyway), its not necessary to say it EVERY day. She says, "Well, it wouldn't HURT to lose a few pounds." And she's the one going on these rigorous diets. Dammit. She's a grown married women. Why the hell does she care what she looks like anyway? It's not like my dad's going to like her any less if she's any fatter. And now she takes her distress on me, who's younger and who's beauty is useful. Why does she have to be beautiful anyway? Who would want to care?

I wouldn't. Not that I really even care about anything at all. What is caring anyway? To think about... really intensely? I don't think so. There really is no meaning anymore.

previous & next