Stains on the Window Bring Out the Pain on your Face

You know you need help. And you don't seek it. You feel like "Greet Death" by Explosions in the Sky. How that sounds is how you feel inside. Empty, filthy, beat up and beaten down. You look rugged in the worn-out way. You can't feel anyone around you. So detached. Nevermind. You don't care either.

An Old Man with One Chance

As I starve for music, I spend an hour trying to get around WebSense Streaming-Media filters. Figured out you can just add ".nyud.net:8090" to everything BUT streaming media and you can get to that site. Example: http://www.megaproxy.com.nyud.net:8090 will get you to the proxy avoidance page, but still won't get you to your beloved LAUNCH customized radio station.

I woke up this morning angry, as angry as I had been in over a year. Frustrated and intolerant of my situation, all my patience gone, and I wanted to grab whatever was near me and break it. Like Fight Club, "I wanted to destroy something beautiful". I needed to go to school, I wanted to go to school. I am missing my second day of lacrosse tryouts in a row. And all I can think is 'Fuck it all'. Stuck inside a box within a cage; thrashing around gets me as far as being paralyzed, but I still try to free myself anyways. I cannot talk to anyone, I am withdrawn from those around me. I usually have that one person that encases the scenario "if they would call, I could talk to them. If I could see them, everything would be fine." But not now; no - everyone is too far away to see. I don't know who I am, or where to go to seek shelter. It scares me, but I have bitterness and traces of hate inside me. There's a monster living inside that hasn't been there before.

No direction, no motivation, no happiness. Just an empty house where love hope and determination use to live. Who is this person typing these words? This is not who I have known for 18 years. This is the feel of a old man who's tarnished soul has no spirit, who's mouth is eternally coated with that sick morning taste, a foul smell of dusty blood and tears, dry cold hands with cracks which have forgotten the sensation of warmth, and dull glazened eyes that have wept all his tears and are now dry with a pitiful sad emptiness. This man has lived his life, seen his family gone, and is waiting for his call from Father Time telling him his appointment. What happened to those years between 18-88? Why did I wake up today feeling like time is almost up? What the hell is going on? How could I blow my chances so quickly? I don't know what to do from here.

Satin in the Coffin

I can't stand people talking about being suicidal like it was some phase or casual part in their life when things really sucked for them. "I broke up and now I feel like killing myself" Do you have any fucking idea what it feels like to give up the will to live? To check out suicide cook books, burn a funeral CD, and write a final draft of a suicide note. To not give a shit about attention, or remember what that feels like. To feel the guilt for the pain you are going to cause to those you care about. To plan what day would be a good time. Just fuck you, maybe you should go to one of the hospitals I did and see true suffering, you pampered piece of shit.

Anyways I gave up today. I'm not talking about suicide, or even considering it. I just had to get that off my chest. I wanted to destroy everything around me. Anything that wasn't alive I wanted to smash. I don't have hate for anyone. Just this pathetic anger at whatever is dragging me through life. Let me be, let me have peace. Either kill me off or leave me alone, but don't torture me like this. I can't keep living like this. It's just not right for anyone to live this way. I have it better than a lot of people, but I am saying none of those people should have to deal with this either. It's the same feeling as those few moments before you die after being hung; the noose is tight aroung your broken neck, but you haven't died yet. So you are suffocating to death. And it doesn't matter what the inside is, vinyl leather cotton satin. Your still in a box in the ground in the end. Are you dead or are you sleeping?

I hate waking up. Means I have to die again tonight.

Which Self Should I Be?

I have just started looking at my internal world and things are very chaotic. First some good news: I got asked to a dance. Yes me, believe it or not. I hate dances, I can't dance, and the school hosting it is known to be the wealthiest in town. But I like this girl, and I like her a great deal. She's beautiful, cute, funny, silly, sweet, warm, real, and just plain fun to be around. Tonight I went to her last basketball game (which I arrived at 2 mins after it ended), ate ice cream, and played Cranium and Catchphrase. I was nervous that I was going to screw up, apprehensive when meeting all the friends and family. Shit, I have so much more to write, but I am using the Alpha-Stim. So I will bullet so points to help me jog:

• Mania addiction and alpha stim
• Fitting in with new crowd
• AG vs AW
• Different selfs

Crash crash crash. I know I don’t have it bad, but still I feel things could be better if it were different. It’s a transition stage; like being stuck in an airport terminal. You’re still leaving the place where you are. But you haven’t left yet. You aren’t really at your departure city, but you certainly are not at your destination. Just waiting to board; and you don’t go to a terminal to relax. It’s tense, trying to remember if you’ve forgotten anything you need, if you said all your goodbyes, what you are leaving behind.

Too much to do, and not enough time to enjoy my last months of freedom. Freedom from true responsibility, of taking care of myself, paying bills, being on my own, taxes, all the grown up shit you have to do. I’ll never get to have this freedom again, and I’m pissing it away by working too much. I’m am being robbed and not doing anything about it. Just watching my most valuable possessions taking away from me: youth and freedom; the thief called time has its hands in my pockets.

I want to have a responsibility clone that takes care of all my work, all the hassles and duties needing to get done. And then I can just enjoy life. Instead, I have both those roles in my body and the responsibility part of me is time-hogging control freak. Oh well, like I said it’s not that bad. I just bitched, now I need to think of all the good things I get to look forward to.

Playing lacrosse, not the grueling practices, but those moments where I am meditating. It’s just me and the ball, nothing else in my mind. What a feeling. I believe that my 18th birthday will be awesome, and in my opinion that is the best birthday of your life. I get to go to a haunted hotel. Then March 3rd - 7th I get to live a dream: Olympic skeleton. How many people ever get to experience that? I am more excited about that than anything else. And in May I get to see some who mean so much to me for the first time since January.

Dreams put out the fire from internal crash. 

Blind Thrill Rides

It's Tuesday morning. I cannot sleep. Looking at pictures of Abu-Gharib torture. Too much...feeling like something is happening with my eyes closed. Going on a roller coaster in the dark. I am damaged bad at best. Just like the son of Sam.

Good Morning!