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Journal - 23/09/01 Later in the day
(Written in black on gray for easier reading???)
Damn me.
That about all I can think to say out loud in my little emotionally exhausted, fucked-up, or whatever state. This morning I caused at least one of my closest friends to cry. Why must I drive away everything that I love so much?
Every time anyone gets to a certain 'closeness' point (which varies depending on the person and how long I've known them) I begin to assume some sort of subconscious defensive pose and start to do stupid thing in some half-assed, screwed-up attempt to protect myself from love. Love. Not soul mate love, though I suppose I'd react the same way to that, but that wonderful thing that allows people to bond as best friends. I shield myself from that, and I can't quite figure out why.
*Cue the dry laughter*
Maybe I should go see the counselor at my college, or maybe I should just stick with trying to deal with it myself. What my friends have to understand is the this is not their fault. Somehow, it's all mine. I don't even know why. I'd like to say it's because I've had a hard life or something bad happened to me in the past, but I can't, because that would be lying and I abhor lies, always those I have created myself.
I try to escape my mind with fantasy, that which I write, read, imagine, or draw, but it never works because that's all it is, fantasy. I try to hold myself on emotional highs, but every high is inevitable followed by a low. I try to find more people and tasks to spread my attention with or spend more attention on those I know already but it just wears me thinner and nothing gets done in the end.
I've begun to trance much more often than I used to. To explain, I turn my music up and tune out the world while I dance to the chaotic viod within, but eventually every song ends. I'm not even good at dancing, besides the facts that I'm un-athletic, fat, ugly, clumsy, and a behemoth. Trancing doesn't help much either, other than tiring me out a bit if I'm too wound-up to sleep.
I still write my pathetic little self-insertions and stories, and I draw my sad little scribbles. In the end nothing has really changed. I continue try to escape by the old methods I have come to adopt and I push away the unhealthy ones like alcohol, drugs, and tiny amounts of poisons and hallucinogens. I don't understand the point but I continue. I love, I hate, I live, I sleep.
I am?
Am I?
~Heather