She was like Marat only with nobody to kill her.

     

    Seldom have I looked towards stars and seen nothing but fractured light. Because, I guess, stars to me have always been a constant in my life, I see them as something beyond science. When I had no other place to go, i would loose myself in the cavalcade of stars and moonlight. As of now, I feel assured of where I am heading, and instead of loosing myself in their mystery, I instead look to the sky to assure myself, I am going the right way. though I do have an undeniable sense of worry that infects me, I still feel like everything I have done, every decision I have made, led me to the right place. I'm happy, I really am.

                     I've been clean of my suicidal thoughts for almost a year, my self harming for two and my eating disorder for three! I'm proud of myself, I'd never though I'd make it this far, and I have an innate desire to scream out on the roof how happy and proud of myself I am. I feel like I deserve good things to come, and I'm both scared and excited for the long life ahead of me. I really shouldn't spend my time worrying, I spent enough time doing that while rotting in bed. I've worked hard to be the best version of myself I can, i think I can give myself some time not to worry. Just for a bit though, I have to feel prepared if the aliens finally take me away or I get murdered, you never know nowadays :).

I have to get around to writing down my shitty poetry, it was my New year resolution, yeah yeah, they're stupid goal setting bullshit, but every year I make one. I wrote down some, but it is heinously bad that sharing that would stain this blog. So I guess I did it, but maybe sharing it would be thee next step.

In this moment, I want to hold on to this life, growing up is scary, I'm kind of excited, but at the same time I can't help but want to cry beads made of happiness and daisies, I want to hold on to moments like pictures, keeping them in boxes forever. But as I grow, I know they are bound to fade, so right now, I will hold onto them, before I let them fly away, making way for their replacements.

                                                         God, love makes me irrational, can I not go two seconds without being in Cupid's grasp with my heart strings playing Tchaikovsky's symphonies with every beat. I am sick with an incurable sickness that renderers me idiotic and completely unobtainable at times. I am Eros's bitch and my sensibilities can't help but crumble.

 “It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

You are the sun, I am the moon
You are the words, I am the tune
Play me

 

I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want

     If I wasn't such a worrier, I think I'd be unstoppable. I hate having a giant pit in my stomach, I'm only seeing the bad of everything, I'm seeing the worst parts of myself and all the mistakes I could make. 

                    I worry about my health and devolving into a pile of blood infecting a hospital bed. I worry about my appearance, if my view of myself is a lie I sooth myself with. I worry if the person I love will leave me and leave my heart ruined.  I worry that once again I will be disregarded by every adult around me. I worry that once again I will feel too depressed to move.

    I just want to feel calm, I want to trust myself to feel comfortable.

“If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

I think going feral and letting everything help might help

Rapid Change in a World of Curiosities

     My thoughts are nothing, I've been too stressed to eat, write and think. All I want to do is find the comfiest bed and watch movies with my love. But instead, I rot while writing papers and thinking about plants. I burnt myself out, trying to finish everything at once, however I became a dead match unable to light anything. All I want is to reset, find a place with no worries and stay until my brain can write again.

    I want to create art and read, but instead I find myself in the last place I want to be, with only my fear of failure to guide me. I'll get out of this rut, I always do, it's just a matter of taking things slow, rolling with the punches if I have to.

Recently I have the desire to put myself in a cocoon and go through a metamorphosis, all my stress peeling off of me. That would be nice.

Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.

     

    I fear myself. I fear what I keep in my rib-cage. I have no clue if it's a heart or just a vile thing covered in teeth. I fear I will sink back into tar and drown. Really, I have no real reason to be scared. I have the drive to take care of myself, people won't just abandon me and I know what I want in life. But still, I look inside my rib-cage and I see that vile mass, or at least what's left of it. I don't want to go back, I don't want to loose what I've built. I don't want to live day by day, trying to find something to live for again. That never was me, that thing was a cheap mockery. I want to live, I know what I want but I can't help but fear degradation. 

                                            I don't want to be a dog that bites out of fear, but I fear being hurt. I'm scared I'm dreaming, what if everything just washes away. I don't want to be a monster again, I love feeling. I love being alive, I love being loved. I Love what I've built for myself, I never want to loose this. That why I fear, that's why I worry about everything little.

I want to keep everything I love in a box and never let any of it go.

Recently, I have come to the understanding that I am driven by anger, rage for the treatment that people have put me through. I think that's one of the best motivators that I can have, I want to show everyone who has discarded me that I am more than a bad dog.

I'll never forget that you showed me to make art
And I know the love you showed me came
From a pure and noble heart
I love you, and if you want, I'll call you King
But why do I lie awake each night thinking
"Instead of you, it should be me"?

She Wore Blue Velvet

     I wonder who were defined as the first lovers. Is that luxury given to the birds? Or maybe to the grotesque mystery that as our world? Whoever they were, they set an undeniable path of mystery and erotica that would lead to the present and subsequently to me

                Love is a sickness that has infected me with it's fruitful tragedy, but I don't want a cure. I only desire to be sick until the sun explodes and I am but a burning memory to the stars. 

I just hope this sickness never leaves my lover, and has infected him like I have been. I yearn for him to love me until I am dust

It's a strange world.

 

 

  

         For once I enter a year without an undeniable sickly despair. I have gone through years diseased with my own worry. I never thought I'd make it to 2024, I thought I'd be dead at 14. But, even if the victory feels small, I survived. I'm happy to be alive, I love life and I'm more than happy to continue life.  

For once, I enter 

a year feeling hopeful.

     Dale Cooper: Harry, I have no idea where this will lead us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.

 

Maybe this year I'll get around to writing down my shitty poetry, I say that every year though.