I try to sleep at night, but this situation keeps me up.
Walk along to another day
Work a little harder
Work another way
Dan and I talked. He mentioned something about Keith. "Megan's killing him." I know she is. He and I can see it. And can't do a thing about it.
Just watch.
I didn't know what I had that day
Walk a little farther to another plan
You said that you did
But you didn't understand
I know what I want. I definitely know what I want.
The question posed now is do I want to choose this thing that I want?
I already know that any of the fleeting moments of fun with so many different people wouldn't even begin to measure against the things I could have with him. I already know what I want, what I need, what would be better in the long run, what would make me feel more complete. It's all already solved inside my head. And yet trying to resolve the answer in my head with reality I am finding to be so difficult.
So many obstacles in the way. He is angry, I am ashamed. He has what he needs mentally from someone else. He's preoccupied. Something inside him is dead.
I can't fight these things, I am not strong enough. He doesn't understand where I am coming from and he could never understand how
I
just
need
him.
My heart is heavy with love for him.
It doesn't even matter that we can't communicate at all. I don't even care that he has her to talk to, that he has games and code to take up his time. I don't even care that I am treated like a house fixture rather than Adrienne.
My cheeks burn with shame whenever he looks at me, and I cannot do anything other than slip into his bed or rest my head on his leg.
Why can't I be anything at all?
I know that starting over is not what life's about
But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth
I want it to hurt for as long as possible.
That I might be granted absolution.
9.17.2007
Get up
If you wanna survive
Get oh so alive
In your life
Everything falling out the sky on top of you
Now what you do?
Money issues resolved. Relief. Trying to make it so I never get in that spot again.
I was very embarrassed at what I said at Saigon City. I didn't mean to come across like that at all, most of what I feel is born out of some kind of jealousy or strange resentment anyway. That I shouldn't even be feeling such a way. I don't even care that much, but Erin gets me wound up in her girly ways. Estrogen feeding estrogen. Dangerous!
Stabbing pain in my right ovary last week, just letting me know something's up. Probably ovulating, which I do like 3 times a year or something. I imagine I'm about as fertile as a tundra. This frustrates me vaguely. I adhere to the line of thought that if you can't physically do it, then don't spend a hundred thousand dollars conceiving sextuplets you deliver three months early. But...
I've known how I feel about this for years now. There's no need to rehash it. Life's unfair, boo fucking hoo, go buy another cat.
Before it's gone
I always feel it's getting you down
And nothing's wrong
I was thinking about this while I was watching him play Guilty Gear and trying not to cough during his matches:
For him, I can see a fairly clear-cut most important thing of all. He wants to better himself, in every aspect. I don't know if he wants to be perfect (kanpeki), but he does want to be the best he can at whatever he wants to be.
For me? I don't know.
I want to help people, but people get their help in the most random ways, and who is to say what's better or worse for someone? Good things come from bad, bad things come from good, the great sine wave of life keeps on fluctuating and it's really not much of an effect I have on anything anyway. And who knows if what they need is my help. Maybe they need their sister's help, or a friend, or a stranger even.
So no, it's not to help people. I can be awfully empathetic, but I refuse to try to push against the overwhelmingly large flow of events through time. Them actually being helped however it may be happens or doesn't happen on a case by case basis constantly, and all it takes for me to prompt people to action is to be myself anyway. Something about me is quite curious, I hear, curious enough to make everyone open their eyes a bit.
So what is it then?
To be happy? Surely, but that's not really a most-wanted ideal, more of a philosophy.
To advance the medical community, that generations after me might use what I have done to further their own work? Of course. But again, not really the fire inside my heart of hearts.
To what, then?
Give up
If you wanna survive
Pick the sound back up
You've got to get on the song lowly
What's the point?
It's funny till you're left to kill yourself
In this town
Why am I so defensive about everything? Because I don't want anyone to best me.
I have this huge I'm on top, I'm best complex. It's taken enough hits to the point where I can easily set it aside and take joy in others winning or being better at me than something, but when I determine someone to be striking first...
Quills up.
God, I can't stand to not be able to outmuscle or outwit people. The only thing that I know truly upsets and frustrates me. Makes me do foolish things like hit people in the face. Sigh.
How weak I am still.
So what's the matter with me?
The tug of the strings around my heart. Getting stronger.
If you wanna survive
Get oh so alive
In your life
Everything falling out the sky on top of you
Now what you do?
Money issues resolved. Relief. Trying to make it so I never get in that spot again.
I was very embarrassed at what I said at Saigon City. I didn't mean to come across like that at all, most of what I feel is born out of some kind of jealousy or strange resentment anyway. That I shouldn't even be feeling such a way. I don't even care that much, but Erin gets me wound up in her girly ways. Estrogen feeding estrogen. Dangerous!
Stabbing pain in my right ovary last week, just letting me know something's up. Probably ovulating, which I do like 3 times a year or something. I imagine I'm about as fertile as a tundra. This frustrates me vaguely. I adhere to the line of thought that if you can't physically do it, then don't spend a hundred thousand dollars conceiving sextuplets you deliver three months early. But...
I've known how I feel about this for years now. There's no need to rehash it. Life's unfair, boo fucking hoo, go buy another cat.
Before it's gone
I always feel it's getting you down
And nothing's wrong
I was thinking about this while I was watching him play Guilty Gear and trying not to cough during his matches:
For him, I can see a fairly clear-cut most important thing of all. He wants to better himself, in every aspect. I don't know if he wants to be perfect (kanpeki), but he does want to be the best he can at whatever he wants to be.
For me? I don't know.
I want to help people, but people get their help in the most random ways, and who is to say what's better or worse for someone? Good things come from bad, bad things come from good, the great sine wave of life keeps on fluctuating and it's really not much of an effect I have on anything anyway. And who knows if what they need is my help. Maybe they need their sister's help, or a friend, or a stranger even.
So no, it's not to help people. I can be awfully empathetic, but I refuse to try to push against the overwhelmingly large flow of events through time. Them actually being helped however it may be happens or doesn't happen on a case by case basis constantly, and all it takes for me to prompt people to action is to be myself anyway. Something about me is quite curious, I hear, curious enough to make everyone open their eyes a bit.
So what is it then?
To be happy? Surely, but that's not really a most-wanted ideal, more of a philosophy.
To advance the medical community, that generations after me might use what I have done to further their own work? Of course. But again, not really the fire inside my heart of hearts.
To what, then?
Give up
If you wanna survive
Pick the sound back up
You've got to get on the song lowly
What's the point?
It's funny till you're left to kill yourself
In this town
Why am I so defensive about everything? Because I don't want anyone to best me.
I have this huge I'm on top, I'm best complex. It's taken enough hits to the point where I can easily set it aside and take joy in others winning or being better at me than something, but when I determine someone to be striking first...
Quills up.
God, I can't stand to not be able to outmuscle or outwit people. The only thing that I know truly upsets and frustrates me. Makes me do foolish things like hit people in the face. Sigh.
How weak I am still.
So what's the matter with me?
The tug of the strings around my heart. Getting stronger.
9.10.2007
My first day back at my old job and I don't like it already. I have a strong distaste for being treated the way we are there, and for the new people, and the rooms within rooms. Today I looked out what of the window I could see and stared at the partially obscured deep blue sky (thank you, copper mesh) for some moments while I tried to cope with the fact that I put myself where I was sitting. I made the decision to go back.
It's not all bad, of course, there are plenty of people there that I know and get along with.
Ugh, money too thin to cover everything. I hate being in this position. Probably going to ask my mother for money. How embarrassing.
It's not all bad, of course, there are plenty of people there that I know and get along with.
Ugh, money too thin to cover everything. I hate being in this position. Probably going to ask my mother for money. How embarrassing.
9.09.2007
There's no going back on this one
Talked with Toast today while we were knitting. (What a strange thing to say now, and I refuse to call it a stitch 'n' bitch. Such a stupid name. :\) I was working on finishing my first hat. And, eventually, at Conrad's house, I did finish the hat. I had slipped a stitch while reducing, so there was a small hole developing in one side, and a bunch of yarn in random spots pulled out or separating. It looks pretty bad, so I'm going to try harder next time. If there is a next time.
I don't know about this knitting business. It seems too feminine for me.
Anyway.
We were talking about relationship stuff, got me thinking about Josiah again...
I'm really not sure where we stand again, and I'm too afraid to ask, so I just kind of move through the house like the situation's not there, like there's nothing between us. And all this does is weave the worn thread connecting us all through the house, tangling it up around me, around everything I own, around everyplace I go. Winding it around my wrists, around my neck, around my chest. I can't breathe. This situation is going to eat me alive.
He looks so pretty sometimes I could just break down into tears. And I can feel myself sinking back down into that place. That warm dark crawlspace inside me that's capable of loving people.
What a wonderful elusive thing, to be able to love.
Talked with Toast today while we were knitting. (What a strange thing to say now, and I refuse to call it a stitch 'n' bitch. Such a stupid name. :\) I was working on finishing my first hat. And, eventually, at Conrad's house, I did finish the hat. I had slipped a stitch while reducing, so there was a small hole developing in one side, and a bunch of yarn in random spots pulled out or separating. It looks pretty bad, so I'm going to try harder next time. If there is a next time.
I don't know about this knitting business. It seems too feminine for me.
Anyway.
We were talking about relationship stuff, got me thinking about Josiah again...
I'm really not sure where we stand again, and I'm too afraid to ask, so I just kind of move through the house like the situation's not there, like there's nothing between us. And all this does is weave the worn thread connecting us all through the house, tangling it up around me, around everything I own, around everyplace I go. Winding it around my wrists, around my neck, around my chest. I can't breathe. This situation is going to eat me alive.
He looks so pretty sometimes I could just break down into tears. And I can feel myself sinking back down into that place. That warm dark crawlspace inside me that's capable of loving people.
What a wonderful elusive thing, to be able to love.
9.07.2007
I am afraid of turning 21.
When I was about to turn 20, I knew where everything was going. It was going to change humongously, in ways I couldn't even fathom. And I couldn't fucking wait for it to change. I was in the process of releasing myself from a dark, consuming place that I had resided for years. My 20th birthday was a celebration of opening my eyes, taking charge of my own movement and thought, and no longer resisting the pulls and shoves of the flowing ripples around me. There was little I knew, but what I did know gave me comfort that wherever I went, that's where I was going to be, and I would deal with it best I could.
Now, I am about to turn 21. I have no idea where anything is going. Now knowing I have changed, I have also discovered that these things that have changed have been who I was always, but I had never had the courage or the strength to admit they were part of me (like the need to help people, the need to empathize, compassion, et cetera). I had been in a zen state of balance, then promptly got knocked back into the sine wave of life, the perpetual ups and downs that is being human. My 21st birthday is a big gaping black hole of uncertainty.
The assuredness I had facing 20 hasn't followed me to this birthday. I feel uneasy about it, almost sick to my stomach with a fear that it'll be hell on earth. Josiah and I are in perpetual disarray. My artistic side has exploded and pulls me in all directions. School is up in the air.
There is not a single shred of comfort in this birthday. The final approach to 21 is strewn with razor blades and ends with a drop-off extending further down than eyes can see.
When I was about to turn 20, I knew where everything was going. It was going to change humongously, in ways I couldn't even fathom. And I couldn't fucking wait for it to change. I was in the process of releasing myself from a dark, consuming place that I had resided for years. My 20th birthday was a celebration of opening my eyes, taking charge of my own movement and thought, and no longer resisting the pulls and shoves of the flowing ripples around me. There was little I knew, but what I did know gave me comfort that wherever I went, that's where I was going to be, and I would deal with it best I could.
Now, I am about to turn 21. I have no idea where anything is going. Now knowing I have changed, I have also discovered that these things that have changed have been who I was always, but I had never had the courage or the strength to admit they were part of me (like the need to help people, the need to empathize, compassion, et cetera). I had been in a zen state of balance, then promptly got knocked back into the sine wave of life, the perpetual ups and downs that is being human. My 21st birthday is a big gaping black hole of uncertainty.
The assuredness I had facing 20 hasn't followed me to this birthday. I feel uneasy about it, almost sick to my stomach with a fear that it'll be hell on earth. Josiah and I are in perpetual disarray. My artistic side has exploded and pulls me in all directions. School is up in the air.
There is not a single shred of comfort in this birthday. The final approach to 21 is strewn with razor blades and ends with a drop-off extending further down than eyes can see.
Stay with me
I feel sad
When you run
Are we really all the way back here? Back at start where we frustrate each other and each conversation could fall into bickering at a moment's notice? How seven years ago of us.
I've gotten increasingly compulsive, I've noticed. Camp only gave me an environment in which to foster the impulsion and allowed it to grow into instability of mood. I'm aware of it, of it all, I watch it happen. And don't step in to stop it. It's really that I am just so curious how I am now, where all of these changes have occurred, still ferreting them all out from wherever they're hiding. Who am I?
Still Adrienne. I am still here, inside, somewhere. Underneath all of the changes. Still me.
Peeking out.
I think it freaks Josiah out too, which makes me want to stop it even less. (There is still a sneaky devil inside me full of schadenfreud.) I am so alienated from him already, it doesn't much matter that the things I say drive him crazy, and using this reasoning I brush off this feeling of taking one step forward and two steps back every word I say to him. We talk about how I sound to him when I say certain things, and really I'm just thinking to myself that I already know. I'm already aware. I just don't want to change it.
To tell him that I don't want to change it, he would be so disgusted. As far as he's concerned, I am no longer... me.
I am a pod person, I've been abducted, I feel like he's treating me. Like I'm some kind of freak. Some kind of disgusting crippled small subhuman creature, some mentally retarded cluster of sentient cells, a shadow of a former self. He treats me like I have left when I am standing right in front of him and I just want to scream at him that he's wrong, I'm Adrienne. His Adrienne is right here.
But whenever he looks at me, it's like he's looking right through me. A blankness in him, like how I felt blank about him before I left for camp.
Maybe he wonders from time to time whether my genetic disposition to schizophrenia is in the process of manifesting itself via my erratic behavior and strange moods.
This whole situation makes me ache inside.
I feel as if I have no reason to treat this with any sort of respect or care. It's such a broken, disfigured situation already, a thing my pendulous humanness and his heartless mechanics can't repair.
Don't stand up
I feel strange
When you go
I feel sad
When you run
Are we really all the way back here? Back at start where we frustrate each other and each conversation could fall into bickering at a moment's notice? How seven years ago of us.
I've gotten increasingly compulsive, I've noticed. Camp only gave me an environment in which to foster the impulsion and allowed it to grow into instability of mood. I'm aware of it, of it all, I watch it happen. And don't step in to stop it. It's really that I am just so curious how I am now, where all of these changes have occurred, still ferreting them all out from wherever they're hiding. Who am I?
Still Adrienne. I am still here, inside, somewhere. Underneath all of the changes. Still me.
Peeking out.
I think it freaks Josiah out too, which makes me want to stop it even less. (There is still a sneaky devil inside me full of schadenfreud.) I am so alienated from him already, it doesn't much matter that the things I say drive him crazy, and using this reasoning I brush off this feeling of taking one step forward and two steps back every word I say to him. We talk about how I sound to him when I say certain things, and really I'm just thinking to myself that I already know. I'm already aware. I just don't want to change it.
To tell him that I don't want to change it, he would be so disgusted. As far as he's concerned, I am no longer... me.
I am a pod person, I've been abducted, I feel like he's treating me. Like I'm some kind of freak. Some kind of disgusting crippled small subhuman creature, some mentally retarded cluster of sentient cells, a shadow of a former self. He treats me like I have left when I am standing right in front of him and I just want to scream at him that he's wrong, I'm Adrienne. His Adrienne is right here.
But whenever he looks at me, it's like he's looking right through me. A blankness in him, like how I felt blank about him before I left for camp.
Maybe he wonders from time to time whether my genetic disposition to schizophrenia is in the process of manifesting itself via my erratic behavior and strange moods.
This whole situation makes me ache inside.
I feel as if I have no reason to treat this with any sort of respect or care. It's such a broken, disfigured situation already, a thing my pendulous humanness and his heartless mechanics can't repair.
Don't stand up
I feel strange
When you go
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