Devoided

Devoided of any inspiration or creativity, I'm still trying to find some kind of stability that will take me to new waves and forms of compatibility with the world. Needless to say... no new deviation.

... I feel deep hatred towards those who I once loved.

Is it Christmas approaching that makes the sublime smell of deep dark Tartarus so irresistible?

me, the winter lover, lives now in contradiction; for as my most natural and defining event of the year nears closer (the winter solstice) I find more and more hatred towards me and those around me.

My nature contradicts the artificial environment I've been placed. Either that or I am really helium's strayed disciple...

Has the sun and summer really been my home all along?

Can’t help but admit that I have always wondered about the light in long blonde hair and the look and taste of wet bare skin.

If summer is my real nature, I can’t help but say that my true nature in fact makes out of me feel most alien within my surroundings; for I have not felt more inadequate than under the light and heat of our systems central star.

For now I can only say that as days grow shorter, my despise of those around gets bigger... and I yearn for loneliness, snow, and northern lights almost unbearable.

I hope hell is cold, for is where I most desire to go... since in the warmth of heaven I would just feel like a smashed cockroach on the wall... disgusting, out of place, hated... and still moving my little antennas, keeping the attention of those who have murdered me, all in awe and puzzled with the mystery of how was it that without any part or limb working, I managed to keep on holding to my fragile sense... smell..

I smell the sublime dead heavy fog from Tartarus calling on to me... yet I see no entrance, or way to say good bye to those once loved and are now hated...

I repeat myself. 

(40 days late)

And I almost ran out of faith...

And I almost ran out of faith... and I almost ran out of love.

The year I took a bus, the year I had sex, the year I fell in love, The year of Len, of josh... and the Prince, the year harry potter ended, the year of the golden compass, the year of my suicide...

I was going to join him and his guys as they have a drink at the Francesa... and it turned out that I not being with them was a relief...

I was going to wait for the prince to teach me about Paul Klee, Andy Warhol, and Marcel Duchamp... I don’t think he really wants me to know... maybe he just think I’m too dumb to understand...

I was going to Play Final Fantasy VII, Zelda... I apparently I’m also to dumb undisciplined for this...

I was going to get him, gunged and slimed....

I was going to go out with him... Daniel and Aiacos, watch them fight... I ruined this... by being myself... he will never let me see them again... god... I was surrounded by people like them my entire school... and never enjoyed it... I wanted to... I just never knew how... I wanted him to teach me how.... I so wanted to have friends... and not feel old... I want to be reckless and immature... tell them about my wedgies, my fetishes... tell them about our sex... I want to fight you in the mud my prince... or at least watch them... but no.... it’s too late and I wrecked it... now they think only awful things about me...

I was going to wait and see if we draw together... he was going to teach me... and I feel I can’t draw anymore...

He was going to explain me about the Surrealist Revolution...

He was going to teach me French, Japanese and Hebrew from him... I don’t even know how was this ever going to happen...

He was going to introduce me to Natalia as she introduced him her new girlfriend... but I somehow convinced him I just don’t know how to have fun... and maybe I don’t...

He was going to teach me about indie rock... He doesn’t share his music... my fault... for handing back a headphone.

We were going to watch shotacon together... and I turned out to be a fucking asexual... uncomfortable to be around with....

We were going to go out and get wet in the rain: he doesn’t enjoy it... he just feels ugly and uncomfortable... I felt old...

We were going to have proper sex... and I apparently have the sexual age of an 8 year old... I don’t watch porn...

We were going to see the golden compass... he hated going to the movies with me...

We were going to play board games with my sisters... he hates playing games...

We were going to take glamour pictures of us... I’m an awful photographer... I disappointed him so badly last time...

We were going to go and see Adolf... I will feel ugly while doing so...

So what exactly the New Year holds for me?

Getting kidnapped to Sweden

Getting a double grad program in Spain

Getting a summer job in the us

This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted

New plans to make and disappoint him... new ways of do self-sabotage... All this is product of me missing him... I miss him to much... it’s starting to hurt me... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to send me a text message on the cellphone... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to let me be with him on his birthday... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to comment on MySpace... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to want me to join him to wherever he goes... maybe he just doesn’t love me enough to answer my emails (its only polite)... maybe he doesn’t love me enough to push me... and teach me how to enjoy the things he enjoys...

What I really want with this entry is to make all of the said above to happen... not plant it and force it to happen... but just tell the universe... I want this to happen!!! I need this... because I don’t feel like killing myself anymore... I feel like wanting to live... just a little bit...

In wonderland

It’s not a whim...

It not... I'm not... little boy that whines, because life sucks, because no one understands him...

I am losing my mind...

I don't think it’s my secret desire to be special... to feel special , it’s not I'm pretending to be something I'm not.... I'm truly losing my mid... It just stops making sense sometimes, like, if my train of thoughts started going in circles...

it been going on for some times... its stare with me wondering around the house, just walking... people in school used to mention I spoke to myself, this was never intentional, I am never aware of this... but I do. My little sister notices sometimes... she finds it funny...

Lately, it’s been getting worse.

I'm dropping things all over the place... I was the neatest guy ever, it was psychotic... my room now... is a disaster... peopled asks me for things, I hand them something else... I can’t seem to keep a pen with me over a week... I forget to do homework's... I literally forgot the face of my teacher...

I never remember to put the milk back in the fridge... everyone snaps at me.

I find myself asking myself... what I was thinking. What am I doing? What am I saying?

Today the creepiest thing happened... I called the prince on the phone... I just forgot, what I was going to tell him... it took me a while before I started making any sense... he noticed...

Not having the cell phone at hand... also relieves me from the remorse of not calling anyone to say good bye...

I failed again... I know...

but I'm not planning months ahead, it’s just a week... soon it will be days... the I will be planning for tomorrow... and then... then I will make it...

I can kill myself, I can do it....

I can, I can... I can...

See... I'm spinning again? Maybe this is why I can‘t writes a lineal story any more... my book... I can’t seem to focus and tell the story form beginning to end... neither on video... things is becoming increasingly abstract...

I was a very reserved person... now I'm telling the entire class that I'm suicidal, now, I'm showing my half naked boyfriend to the world... I say the most inappropriate things in the library....

I'm so... anguished... so....

I've been writing this entry for a week...

(59 days late)

For the first time

For the first time, I look at you in your eyes and I don’t like what I see... a charity case... it funny you knew I was going to see it this way. It’s true. I refuse to be like any of the stray souls you hang on... I will never be beautiful enough for you... we started wrong, it will end wrong... 

I never went for a kiss...

I never went for a kiss... I wanted to kiss girls, and a boy, then another couple of boys, and then more girls and a boy... I don’t know why I am so obsessed with girls, if I don’t even know them... I wish I was ameinian, like so fucking completely ameinian.

Now... my virgin days are close to being over... I feel like yelling. 

I’ve written so many times the final entry for my journal, it’s just absurd... how long will I keep this up?

I have million things to do and books to read, things to finish... I have book that needs to be read... I barely have started doing all those things god told me to do.

I had my first talk with the Marquis de Sade girl (whose name is actually Jessica)... it had to last like 6 minutes... and she like completely shared herself with me. Out of nowhere. I found her... brilliant... broken, but brilliant... sincerely wowed.

A voice that makes sense

A voice that makes sense

"There is really no doubt you are a very sick person. And if this diary has been online so long and been read as much as you claim and there are still no changes, it is very clear that either no one really cares about you or that you are indeed beyond any kind of help. Suicide is your best option, it really doesn’t sound your life is worth living at all. I live near you, I will be glad to be of assistance. Stop torturing yourself with this diary and most importantly stop torturing people online who deceived by your videos and other works come into this depressive world of yours. I’m not blaming you, it’s not your fault, you are just very sick. Please stop, and if you are not able to do it by yourself, let me help you end it. For your own sake and for everyone else’s."

(3 days late)

I received another message today that said: "just BE happy"

I received another message today that said:  "just BE happy" yup, just like that… it is a bit like telling someone with cancer "just cure yourself", he tells me to go out to the world, and to just be happy... 

This is irritating for a number of reasons.

One, I have to constantly explain to him or whoever says it tome, how sucky my life is and the pathetic personality I have that gets in the way of everything that’s good and worthwhile in this world. 

Two, I’m afraid to try alone... and learn to be happy alone and stay alone forever...

I met Joshua... I’ve had a crave for this name since I went to England years ago. It was the name of one of my roommates, he was blonde and gorgeous, and I was never brave enough to talk to him... last time I saw him he was shirtless in the beach. Ten years later comes another Joshua ... Him I was brave enough to talk to, well he reached me first for some reason, but unlike the 1st he I will probably never actually meet.

I sometimes treat him, like I did Obsidian back in school, and I enjoy it the same way, he is also, like Elektra in some ways, when we get passionate discussing... I don’t remember being so passionate online with anyone else beside him and Elektra... 

He is also very different to anyone I’ve met in many ways... he speaks like the kind of person I always wanted to talk to, he actually speaks so beautifully, that I can’t seem to get myself together and talk back... and I can talk a lot, I study social communications for crying out loud...

He is however reckless when he speaks and acts, which I find at the same time repulsive and attractive... I can’t really seem to grasp he is so young or that I’m actually this old... talking to him makes me wonder what the fuck did I do in my teens? Where did they go?

But today I did something so stupid, there is this really hot, really smart, girl in my Ethics class... she talked to me!!! And I talked back... and we actually got along!!! Amazed I was, I stated trying to well... make myself interesting... and yes... I screwed up... I was going to say it was nightmare to be bi... but when I thought in my mind, the word bisexual sounded so... ugh pathetic... and I actually said I was ameinian!!! Now of course... Lost all chances of being with this cute, really hot smart girl (completely out of my league) and messed it up again by speaking of guys.... I just hate myself....

(13 days late)

All it takes is one bad date...

All it takes is one bad date... 

Unless you are me, then you need two.

Tonight I’m going to cry, not just yet, because I’m filled with anger first. And not the type of anger that makes you wants to yell and course everyone you know. I’m filled with type of anger that requires to be denounced, that feels me with energy to write this words. Today I saw the things I hate most about myself and about others. Insecurity, lack of character, lies, disrespect, lack of communication, ugliness, both physically and personality wise... I saw everything that wrong with me and my world.

I don’t want to see you again, ever, you hurt me, and you will die alone, I got myself vulnerable to you, and you, and you made me feel, embarrassed about who I was, about what I believe... and what’s worse, I let you do it to me twice.

You are faggot, and mean this in the very and most insulting way, and for that I hate you, because you made me feel bad about being who I am, you represent everything that wrong in the ameinian community... you are, a cliché! The worst kind, you make me kitsch, void, useless... I’m an idiot, and you proved me right. 

You shouted to a 10 year old girl! What kind of person does that? You had me 15 minutes dragging after you in search of cab... I hate myself, for being with you, I hate myself for even doubting if it was my fault you are so week... I’m angry, so angry, so disappointed, so filled with contempt... I hate you, not more than I hate myself...but I do... I’m so filled with... hate... I couldn’t help but laugh all the time at our situation, and I know it bothered you I didn’t say what I was laughing about... I was laughing about us, our pathetic situation, you not knowing the jerk you are, and me putting up with it, when I know I deserve better even if I die a virgin... which I am still... and I’m so proud about it, because losing it to you would have been too degrading, I would have had to killed you and shoot myself then.

(17 days late)

There are some perks to living in a warzone...

There are some perks to living in a warzone... first you develop the ability of sleeping through almost anything; Gunshots and minor explosions for example. You get to see the dark side of life since forever, you learn to live in a truly rotten society (you guys think your health care is broken? here is basically inexistent!). You learn the rules to live in no man’s land, to not expect anything from your government and that the answer to most (if not all) problems is definitely money.

You learn to look beyond the general moral rules of good and evil. The values system is different, it does not hurt at all that fellow citizens dies in a massacre, it doesn’t hurt that children are starving, that your maid, the woman who babysit you your whole life, prepared your meals, and washed your underwear kidnapped children of others people for ransom in her spare time.

You learn that one block away there is a center for prostitution and drugs (not to consume... but to export of course). You learn that politics are corrupt to the bone, and that the downside of that matter is not to be in it... 

You also learn to objectively look at a situation no matter the amount of casualties. You look beyond the massacre to see whose fault is it really is, not only here but anywhere else, being Iraq or Vietnam, it does not matter the time or space.

But most importantly you find that problems cannot be solved, at least not without extreme radical change (and that unfortunately means taking the rough decisions)... so where does this leaves this image that Colombian is passion? That Colombia is a better land for tomorrow... where does this leave all our goodness and expectations...

Well today the country was indeed paralyzed for an hour, where everybody just halted to show the terrorist that we had enough. Now, I'm very critical of my country's situation, but I must admit I had not experienced this ever, and god knows there have been marches, manifestations and all sorts of crap during my lifetime. Yet, today was something Huge. Why I say that? Because I was involved me... it reached me, I live on a part of the city that is pretty much excluded from what happens and it even got here... it was something... an hour where you wear a white shirt and say: "yes we can still dream of something better"

The truth and only the truth

The truth and only the truth. 

This was the reason I started this diary in the first place, I needed to tell the truth... why? Because I lie a lot. 

I think being a good liar is an essential quality of being a good actor; Enjoying your lies I fundamental for a good writer. 

I need to write, I haven’t written anything in months but the urge is getting bigger and bigger, and the story is now to big to keep it in my head. 

And I’m a lousy writer, just read my entries they lack style, coherence and mainly good grammar. 

I feel I’ve been giving up lately, giving up on so many things... specially my dreams. I stopped straightening and dying my hair, haven’t got dressed in days. I need to record this video and yet I seem to not find the appropriate time. Time... I need time, I keep convincing myself  to give up on these things because there is no time. No time to write, to read, to lie down, to draw... 

The truth is I don’t know if any of this is true. Or if my lies are taking a toll on me, and I’ve started fall for ‘me. Believing my own lies; If an actor gets so much in character he starts to actually believe he is his character... does that make him a terrific actor or the worse of all? 

Didn’t this happen to the guy that played Nosferatu in that old silent movie? (I’m too lazy to Google it now) or isn’t this the same that happened to Ed Wood, who blindly believed his work was truly amazing. 

Back to the pressing matter, I no longer know if this diary true, or if I’ve fallen into the delusion it is... I keep writing I’m sad, but am I? I keep trying to expand my writing beyond myself to prove I’m not an egocentric maniac... what do you think? 

Drunks have taken over the block, you can hear them arguing and laughing from all over here in the fifth floor. People are dying in floods all over the place, corruption invades everything in this country, and the truth is I am here at night, writing, expecting an epiphany from putting this words here... because I promised here I would tell the truth and only the truth.

(11 Days Late)

I promised myself I wouldn't be … well… me…

I promised myself, I wouldn't be … well… me… That I'll stay alive till I passed the original Pokémon green for GB and capture Mew. I wouldn't commit suicide till Year seven of the harry potter seven arrived, I promised myself that I would get one cool haircut in my life, that I would not care about what people think or say. 

I'm going to try to keep my word on that last one. 

I got this on my mail today:

E-mail: holly_nin@yahoo.com   <Omar Eduardo Arango "Quiñones">

Comment:   Dear fag...oops I mean Xag:   First of all, allow me ask u something: have u no life, no friends (I mean normal friends) no nothing??...Oh wait a sec, I guess u do have something: NO SHAME WHATSOEVER for being who u are and doing the most pathetic work there has yet to be done. As a classmate on "taller de television" I've got to say I was kind of disturbed by your presence and your horrifying lack of fashion. And the hair, something to kill yourself for!!   One more thing before living this hideous site, PLEASE DON'T EVER POST VIDEOS WHERE U TELL THE WORLD YOU'RE STUDYING AT UNIVERSITY SERGIO ARBOLEDA, YOU ARE EMBARRASSING FOR US BIG TIME!!!   On behave of everybody who's NOT A FREAK LIKE U, thanks for the chance of posting this comment and please do try to not leave your house from time to time so people don't get traumatized by your looks.   Take good care of yourself.   

Sincerely   

Not a fan of your shity work AT ALL.

No more videos. 

(12 days late)

Ameinian

Ameinian

For a long time, I've always found some kind of linguistic injustice towards men, specially referring to homosexual men and women. 

You see, the word commonly used to denominate an homosexual woman is the word lesbian which I personally think it’s a beautiful word, it just sounds beautiful but also has this cool etymological background, the word comes for the inhabitants of the island of lesbos in Greece where the most famous homoerotic poetess lived thousands of years ago (now this sounds great for us occidentals... not sure how the people over at lesbos in Greece right now feel about it). Meanwhile men are stuck with the word Gay which, not only lacks the thousands of years in history, it is also used on girls.

The word lesbian is never used to refer to guy relationships is it? So I've been searching for a while looking for a word that would match the equivalent of "lesbian" unfortunately poets who wrote male to male relationships in ancient Greece are guys like Theognis and Anacreon who self-identify are pederasts... so taking their names would not really help the ameinian community, since pedophilia is even further away from being socially accepted.

However other more famous poet touched the subject, Homer in the Iliad mentions the myth of Ganymede (god I love that name) The young boy who was kidnapped by Zeus to make him his servant (because he was so darn beautiful) yet again... old Zeus and a young boy do give some remembrance of pederasty again. So I kept searching... along the way, I remembered narcissus that was in love with himself... now of course we couldn't call ameinian men narcissistic of course. Yet however reviewing the myth, there is this little known part.

Many were those who fell in love with the beautiful lad. Even when he was a baby his nurses swooned over him, and by his sixteenth year every man and woman in town pined for him. None of them however were good enough for him, he felt. One day his neighbor, Ameinias, could stand it no longer, and told Narcissus how much he longed for him, and asked him to be his lover. Narcissus said nothing, but merely sent a servant to deliver a dagger in response. Ameinias understood the meaning of the ' gift,' and with that dagger took his own life, calling down the wrath of the gods upon Narcissus, and cursing him to ever meet in love the same disdain that he had for others.

While most of the myth centers on the conflict of narcissus an echo, Ameinias seemed to have been somehow obscured. Ameinias' tragedy is... well... really ameinian... maybe even corny. BUT it really says much more than the word generic word: Gay... Ameinias could be the perfect word. Except for the similarity with the word Anemia which is a disease, however its use on people would not be Amienic but Ameinian - if there wasn't an already established structure for the English language that probably regulates this stuff -.

So yes... I spent my day today trying to make up a word. Imagine what I can do tomorrow…

(8 days late)

Why do I have to put my life aside all the time?

Why do I have to put my life aside all the time?

I haven’t written recently because of one simple thing… collage work, it just never ends, and the truth is… I don’t even think I’m learning that much.

I don’t understand why I have to put my life aside to do what is supposed my choice of life.

I did choose to go to college… didn’t I?

I’m no longer sure; I can’t remember the moment I chose a major… I just remember one day my mom driving me to the campus and I signed some paper…. And voila! I’m studying a career I hate!

Everyone I meet and I show my work to says “WTF are you doing here?” actually today Ana Maria (A girl I’m really into) said that I was wasting myself studying this :P I’m not sure if it’s a complement or if it’s an insult, but it’s surely says what I feel right now.

(1 day late)

I’m so going to hell

I’m so going to hell. Because this boy… . There   one I have lied about everything… sometimes I feel like I should rescue him, like if I should make him my prince… sometimes I hate him with all my being.

He brought up in the conversation his parents will be off next weekend, but never actually made the invitation. This left me a bit disappointed. I can’t believe I’m saying this… it feels wrong, because he is way younger then me…

God, it kills me that I can’t afford anything right now. Stupid college student budget.

I get about 8 dollars a week, for lunch, books, and transport. So I get to save about a dollar a week… form unused change.

(6 days late)

My love, Today I woke up and there it was again…

My love,

Today I woke up and there it was again... that sick, ugly and talentless being... the monster on the mirror.

I wait for you to come, like spring after a deadly cold winter even though I know it doesn’t snow here in hell...

I’m in hell my dear. I’m in hell, and I can’t escape because everyone says I am the one that condemned me here... I don’t understand that.

I’m empty my dear... I’m empty of you, I can’t see you, I can’t feel you... I can’t even dream of you. Where did you go?

I don’t know how else I can say I rather die than wake up tomorrow...

I don’t know how can I express anymore the feeling of absolute emptiness my life is.

I don’t know how I am strong enough to breathe right now…

(18 days late)

Finally I got someone to help me out with a vid…

Finally I got someone to help me out with a vid… in the rain! Got thoroughly soaked. It was silly and fun, I really enjoyed it.

(7 days late)

As if things couldn’t be worse

As if things couldn’t be worse, my mom is depressed, and she doesn’t hide it. I’m depressed to, so all I can do is nod along we both just want to throw the towel, just lay on the floor stare to the sky and wait for the earth to devour us slowly and inexorably. I spend hours, that go from 5am to 7pm I haven’t accomplished anything and still feel tired and worn out. I am hopeless... I really don’t wish anything anymore, I don’t care about anything, I don’t want anything, and I don’t want to want... I just don’t care. I need nothingness, I need to fall and become nothing.

I know I have grown more beautiful, I hope it’s not narcissistic of me to say, but I think I am more attractive now, far more attractive than what I would have said I was 5 years ago..

(8 days late)

Sit down in the dark

Sit down on the dark.

Smile!

I hate you.

What?

I hate you

Why?

I just do

Stop it.

No

Stop it

No

Please.

No.

Why?

You deserve it

You think you are perfect

I know I’m not

You think you know

Forgive me

No.

...

I'll look back and laugh,

...or cry

I rather die than keep this up, it’s absurd... my life, the things I do, I’m so alone, I hate my life, I’m being the classical depressed teen... but this really goes beyond that, I’m lost, I’m so lost.... 

Writing doesn’t bring me pleasure anymore, I look at it, and it makes me nauseous. Where are you superman? come and save me, just come and fly me away, I’m just a boy, deep inside I’m just a fragile  little boy, that need to be rescued, rescued from himself.

(10 days late)

Hi, I'm Xag

Hi, I'm Xag; I am 17 years old and live in Colombia. I think I have been depressed since I have memory, I'm an introvert, and I do not excel in any physical or academic activity. I have been feeling 100 years old since I was 10 and I think I can write a great story, which I started writing four years ago, but that by the time of this writing it’s barely on its third chapter.

I believe in three things: God, happiness and magic. Of all of them I doubt of from time to time.

I am a compulsive liar, prone to invent drama in my past. I wanted to be physically abused by my family or my classmates, thing which never happened. I don’t have now or ever had, any friends, and I have never been involved romantically with someone, I suffer from panic attacks when having to face new social situations which include sweat, itching and intense heart beating, especially at the time of having to make a phone call. It depresses me to see boys being happy, blond or in the beach and I love to see them suffer. I do not tolerate animal cruelty, but I encourage it in teens. I feel empathy with serial murderers.

I have suicidal thoughts every day since I have nine years, I've slept with a knife under the pillow just in case and  cut my wrists some times, I’m not sure if a cry for attention or because I really like it.

I hate public speaking, unless I am in a position of authority. I blame society and the misfortune of being surrounded by it for part of my unhappiness, as well as I blame my immediate and extended family. I'm shallow, masochistic and materialistic.

I criticize myself harshly at every action, and I have trouble forgiving my mistakes, specially the insignificant ones. I live with my mom who works two jobs and I'm afraid to be ameinian for the wrong reasons. I panic at the thought of changing for the better, either being improving the way I dress and act or applying for scholarships and contests that could reasonably only benefit me. I'm terrified that to continue living at home until I am 40 years old.

I think I have spoken with God, at a younger age I wondered if I was the reincarnation of Jesus and believed to be a martyr of faith. I remember the time when I was first aware of my existence. I always wanted to experience hallucinations, as well as a variety of other mental illnesses.

I daydream constantly and for long periods of time; it can be about having billions of dollars and all you could buy, or a tragic loss suffered unexpectedly, but mostly is about being confined to a wheelchair for life. (Now I’m obsessed with waking up at age 10, with all the memories I have now, and using them in the past for my advantage)

I have very specific tastes, most are complex stories that take my full attention, and even though most actually embarrass me to disclose in public. I dedicate an absurd amount of time to them. This includes also hours of daydreaming of how would be like to live in those worlds.

I hate giving and receiving gifts, I've always felt uncomfortable in my own skin because I was born to be beautiful, which I am not... I am very ugly. But very rarely I think I have an exhibitionist side.

I am submissive or dominant depending on the relationship you have with the other person. But I am mortified of being trapped in a role... I do not think there is true love for me in this planet, but in my imagination I am married with three others, they are my soul mates.

I like doing things alone, but I find it loneliness intolerable.

Otherwise I think I'm normal, mediocre, stupid and deadly ... and like everyone I believe I'm the most special person in the world.

I failed at being blonde...

I failed at being blonde... 

I caught my little sister crying the other day, and she said to me "I just can’t do anything". I feel the same way; I can’t really do anything... I can’t even pull off being blonde. I can’t have a proper website; I can’t even finish a notebook, before I lose it in a classroom. I haven’t finished my sketchbook, or my JLU collection. I haven’t finished the first chapters of my book, or writing the Mikey's torment script. Whatever it is I haven’t finished it, I can’t really do anything.

My hair I bluefish black now... but it doesn’t look good without the makeup and black nails... but I feel I left that stage so far behind, wasted, and now I’m too old and it would look stupid to do it.

I know I’ll eventually go back to walking all over sunshine.

(29 days late)

Mourning a past that never was

Mourning a past that never was, is one of the main reasons I’ll never be happy. I can sit hours thinking and dwelling on what-if's, maybe-if-I-had’s and I-wish-I-would-have. I even day dream constantly, to the point of having to sit down an just do nothing else, about the possibility of just going back in time, with all this knowledge I have now of the things I’ve lived, and be 10 again... and just do all those things I know I should have done.

I forgot today to sign up for the subject I’m taking in collage... and I’m screwed... I’ll probably end up having a nightmare of a schedule... I don’t want to be early in the mornings again... but seems like I have no choice... I can hear already my mom’s lecture on the subject... "But if you are not doing anything! How can you forget to do something... when you have absolutely nothing else to do?”

I think bisexuality should be considered from now on as the perpetual state of sexual confusion.

I feel anxious… and anxiety goes hand in hand with depression...

I keep having dreams about people from school. Gosh, why, I don’t want to think about school anymore.

(20 days late)