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Journal - 24/07/01
(Written in black on gray for easier reading)
Yep, here we go again. I didn't update this thing yesterday, I'm obviously slipping into my old regimen. But the question is, is it really my old habits I'm returning to? Or have they all gone the way the smoke goes moments after you blow out the candle? Little gray ghosts, not sure if they're good or bad, flying off into the unknown, disappearing after they realize that they don't know where they're supposed to be.
I don't know where I'm supposed to be. Does that mean I'll disappear along with the candle-ghosts?
Hard to tell. All I know is that all that what I've told myself over and over again needs to be protected, that must be protected or I'll die, all the things that I somehow know I had to defend all that was me and all that is my friends and family against... It's all a dusky illusion. Everything is constantly changing, but this time it's all gone in for a complete overhaul. Am I fading as I sit here? Is everything going to dissolve around me as I take off from the ground and soar into limbo?
I guess that's why I write, draw, and sculpt. It's nice to leave something behind, so that even if someone sees it and says, "Well, that's certainly crap. I've seen a two-month old baby do better." At least there's a bit of me still around to be recognized if I go. It might even be nice to think that those few pieces I leave behind could possibly be treasured by those close to me now.
Oh well, if I fade, I fade, I guess... Either way this really sucks. At least typing my feelings into words makes the bad emotions fade somewhat. Somehow I can force these demons out through my fingers and onto the screen or paper. I listen to my music, well, more like blow my brains out with it, and I type until my fingers get tired. That makes me a little happier and restores some of the sunlight to my dusk-enshrouded soul.
In the end I only have one question, if what I thought was real is fake, is what I thought was fake real?
Ja, Minna-san,
~Heather