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Journal - 23/09/01 2:10 AM
(Written in black on gray for easier reading)
There is nothing, and nothing is all there is.
No, there isn't even that anymore. There is no, "Heather Potter". There is no life. Nothing is really there, all is a vacuous void. I can see the lines of reality twitching around me as I finally discover their lie. They begin to shatter, taking with them all I have ever believed in.
What is god? Is there a god? Am I really this, "god"? Is that why this illusion exists? Because even a god's mind couldn't handle the reality of being the only, singular, "thing" lonely in all this blackness?
There is no emotion, I can feel it trying to continue its frivolous non-being, but wherever it attempts to collect its anti-self, someone/thing, me? Pulls the plug and it all sails down into vacuity. But there is no me, there is no you, there is only an absence of everything. I try to watch something to bring back some semblance of this life to myself, and it fails. All it serves to do is remind me that all is a lie. Nothing exists, therefore nothing cares, and I care for nothing and about nothing.
If I believed that everything wasn't some great mirage to cover the void I might be upset with myself; for being a bad friend, for hurting those I love most by being the stupid, ugly, dumbass, fuck I once believed I was.
But there is no I now, and no past or beliefs. It's all one of those movie scenes where a character falls into the bottomless pit and is eventually swallowed up by blackness which fills the screen. I don't even know why I'm writing this, it's not like it matters. It's not like there's any one to care. Maybe this is just some fucked-up stupid last guilt trip before I let sleep and nothingness claim me. I've had more than my share of those before.
Ah, and so my petty mind reverts to focusing on the small things. Its own special way of protecting the illusion. If I look at the nice small parts of the picture maybe I'll forget how marred the whole thing is. Or perhaps if I inflict pain on my body, or get others to do so I can distract my consciousness at least, hm?
"I hate life." How many times have I heard that, and agreed? I used to think it was all a happy little fantasy and would turn out good in the end like almost all of my books, movies, manga, and anime. But it doesn't. I came to that realization early in life, and the question, "Why the hell am I working so hard for something that will most likely not make or keep me happy?"
I give up everything for those I love; health, dreams, life. But does that earn me my shining prince in armor or story book, "Happily ever after" ending? I think not. I'll end up a miserable, hopeless, middle-class worker. For the rest of my life stuck wondering if I should end it or stick it out. Balancing imagined moments of happiness with sadness, hate with love.
Lately my brother has been leaning towards suicidal slightly, fuck, if only he knew what I know now. Then he would jump right over the fucking edge.
I should have realized this earlier. Everyone I love is taken from me by death, and they just disappear. Vanish, never were. Grand-mommy, Grandma Badura, Lina, Ananda have all gone, and, finally Grandpa is also leaving my mirage now, to name the most influential few. I don't understand. I understand all to clearly. My mind subtly understands its aloneness and shows it to me by taking away all in my illusion that I ever come to care for. Next it will take my family, and my friends, and then I will be alone.
Alone is this fucking goddamned void that I know is just waiting to take me back. Because, you know, vacuum attracts vacuum. And vacuum swallows all in the end and makes them a part of itself. It's already eaten the most important part.
My heart.
~Heather