It is the mark of adulthood, I have seen to become accustomed to a regulatory feeling of emotional abandonment. Having less friends, unsure about work or college, having less and less in common with the current generation of degenerates.
Don't get me wrong, we're all degenerates. We have become a race of caustic destroyers of all things good.
We **** each other for fun, we watch others' suffering for entertainment. We ignore the world's crumbling state, and yet turn our faces against it. Yet, things are worsening, and I feel the younger folk are becoming more accustomed to the horrors that are becoming the New World Order.
The world around me seems to have become pointless, hustles and bustles only for a bottom line. Fake, fabricated happiness, plastic smiles on everyone's face. Solitude is my enemy, and yet it has formed a cloak of comfortability all around me.
I suppose I have nothing left to say. I'll try to remain positive, for today is supposedly a good day.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
How do you know if you're bipolar?
How do you know it's not in your head?
Is there a way to determine if you have a medical condition, when you're not sure if you actually lack something chemically in your head?
What if the power of suggestion were all that were real?
Would that still merit a prescription to heal?
How the hell do I know if I'm well or not?
Can you pop open my head and perform a chemical analysis?
I'm a control freak, but I play along well.
I hide my feelings until there's an uproar, a deafening swell.
It all stays locked up inside, to make everyone else okay.
Inside of me there's a diva, and it's an everyday battle to keep her at bay.
So, what is the answer to this question that I have? Why can't they tell me yes or no, so at least I'll know if I'm making it all up or have the real deal.
Who can tell me? Can anyone? Because I truly have no real reason to be upset, or at least that's what they say. There's simply an unhappiness that rests deep within me, and it makes it hard for me to live a normal life.
I would love to go to work and get on with it with the rest of the world.
But there's is, nonetheless, a part of me that almost seems as if it wants me to be unhappy, because life isn't supposed to be happy, don't you see?
It's supposed to be difficult, to be a tumultuous uphill fight. Isn't that right? Perhaps I'm not getting my money's worth if I don't have an ongoing, real-world plight.
If not, then why is it so hard for me to Be happy? Why is it to difficult for me to be at ease? Perhaps I simply want the medication, to stand upright and shout, "see!? There IS something wrong with me!"
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
How does one fight starch negativity? Abrasion so callous it digs in deeply, without even intending to be so cruel? How does one make do with feeling uncomfortable in their own shoes? Afraid to stand still and afraid to move? How does one interpret indifference when effort has been put forth to gain love and respect? Sometimes, one deals by succumbing to it. It doesn't happen easily, it takes a good amount of time, usually. It starts when hopelessness begins to make its home in the gut, with a never-ending clip of cold-shouldered numbness every time one comes home. The darkness is much easier to live in than the light. The anger, the brooding sense of needing approval, once light and sweet now become sour and incomplete, because a complete anger is not possible in some. It's abnormal behavior, and it takes much pain and suffering to be won. It's trying to fight for your sanity and dear life on a daily basis, trying to not make others feel unwelcome, yet wanting it to be known that dissatisfaction has come to call your soul home. One can go on and on and on and on. The same words trying to convey the same sense of hellish hopelessness, a soul and ego resorting to the painful notch of anti-tranquility that creeps into the head, right into the stress and joy centers. Can I have the man and not the mother? Soon, she will move and once again I'll be able to be another, the original, non-convoluted, full of kindness and warmth once again. Soon, the mother will move out and I will marry the man.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
Before we were friends
Got along just fine
then before we knew it, **** got out of line
**** got real there for a minute, **** got real there for a minute
I was deep in love with the man you raised
So I thought what the hell, this'll be fine for now
**** got real there for a minute, **** got real there for a minute
Before we knew it, three years had passed
You still lived with us, and I was losing my mind
**** got real there for a minute, **** got real there for a minute
It was like my whole world was upside down
I didn't feel at home in my own home
**** got real there for a minute, **** got real there for a minute
Sometimes I don't know what to do here, should I say to get the hell out, or should I sit and bear it?
**** got real there fora minute, **** got real there for a minute
Three years went by and you still lived with us, three people, two beds and one bath; three big personalities, two from the same family
**** got real there for a minute, **** got real there for a minute
You finally got a job, we're getting married and saving for a house
I don't know how happy I'll be once you finally move out!
**** got real there for a minute, **** got real there for a minute
I just hope that once this is all over, we'll all go back to being calm, cool and I'll be more rationale
**** will hopefully be more real then, a reality I can live with.
'Cause **** sure has been real for a good minute.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Last night, I dreamt I went where people go when they die. I saw Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain and asked if Jesus ever came. It was amazing, all the people that were there. There were many faces I couldn't see, a plethora of souls Earth has ever seen.
The scene was like a cruise ship, or so it seemed. There were many different rooms, all full to the brim with these beings. I wanted to talk with each of them, I wanted to know their stories. But, unfortunately I had to be up for a class at 7:30.
That unconscious internal clock that keeps me on schedule, it alerted me that my time was nearly up in this vessel. I pled meagerly with myself, "please, let's just miss class this one day! I really think this is magical, spiritual. I don't want to go away!" But, alas the other world was calling me, to return to the "other" me. I had no choice but to succumb to adult responsibility, to will myself to wake up and face the music on the other side of the dream.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
It bothers me that I think. I think always, about everything. When others walk about, chatting happily away, I sit in the corner, thinking of something "good" I could say. Instead of going on cheerily, I am forced to think. And this bothers me.
It worries me that I think. Thinking, for me tends to lead into worry. I think about the world around me. I try not to imagine all the pain and suffering. The children beaten for no reason, animals slaughtered for a spot on the dollar menu. All these things sink deeply Into me, but instead of giving in I fight to keep sanity. And somehow, even in this I find an "appropriate" degree in which to worry.
I think I have begun to judge too much. When I see people behaving stupidly, it annoys me more than it should, so it seems. I used to be much more relaxed and carefree. It didn't much matter to me when I'd observe this, our culture of idiocy. But now, as I have begun to reflect on it more, I have come to see people as much of a bore. And this has shut me down socially. I have become too judgmental, both internally and externally.
As I read my books, I feel more at ease. Though I miss companionship, I somehow manage to do without. I think I may be depressed, at least bogged down with anxiety. But that's just who I am, who I will likely always be.
The unrelenting worry-wart, I am my own lawyer, I take my case to court. And there I will stand trial against the id and ego in me, the two sides that make up each and every cognizant human being. I will review the evidence, hear testimony and be judged by a panel of my peers. They will dissect all past and present intellectual transgressions, and see where I go too far. They will objectify and analyze what I do and how I perceive. Then, the gavel will sound off and I will hear rite verdict of my plea. Although I don't know what the end will be, I know I will never allow myself to think to any lesser a degree.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
Trepidation, it seems to be my mission to be incapable of making a decision. I wish that I could get up and go instead of sitting around, be productive and envision. Envisioning one’s future is not enough. I wish I could get rid of this fear, the fear of actualization. It seems I am terrified of being able to provide for myself, to commit to anything. I have a fear of self-commitment, it seems to me that to a degree I live in fear of accomplishing my dreams.
It’s hard to figure myself out, why I live inside myself, beside myself while muting the thoughts that try to escape through a gaping hole, not whole within myself. All day, I think of these great things I could say, and yet I sit and debate if anyone around can relate, or if they’d care or stare blankly and think to themselves that I’m crazy. This crazy lady who sits, alone silently in class. Like a timid deer, leering through bushes in a forest. Desperately seeking human interaction, but too afraid of being turned down to reach out and try. I live in constant fear of never being happy. I fear that I will never find my calling in life, that I will hop from job to job, career to career without being near to self-satisfaction, a feeling of inner peace, completion. I wish I could live peacefully within the regulated regime of a god, a god dictated by a group of people who claim to have the answers to all life’s unanswerable questions. '
I think I may be incapable of living godlessly, a spiritual person who can’t live with the ******** I see it every day all around me, the theory of Christian exclusion, is there therefore an excuse to be a completely unreasonable person and treat others as lesser beings? Can I buy into the cause simply for the membership card? Give my intellect a breather, pretend that I’m not thinking. I can be a useful member of society, as a whole, not individually. It’s much easier this way, allowing independent thinking a little chance to decay, just enough to dismiss the bits of dismay that creep in when I find the world around me lacking in substance. When I catch myself being too self-critical, or critical of others as it sometimes turns out to be.
I have a million endless, ceasing thoughts inside of me that I struggle to put into an assembly line, to assess the individual pieces and construct a completed, productive product that is my ability to function, happily in society. Should I consume the soma? Or should I let the unbearable sensations of the modern worldEe overwhelm me? Can I disregard the rest of the baseless rhetoric, the pathetic excuse for being a better person? “Because god told me so” I believe was the church nursery rhyme, repeated systematically like a cultish chant, a bedtime prayer said before hypnopaedic sleep. Can I find a brave new world if I simply give into the system? Give into the never-ending spiritual conquest of the intellectually-tormented mind? It all, you see builds up inside of me, all these restless thoughts and feelings of inadequacy. ‘I don’t take myself seriously. Or maybe I take myself too seriously. I don’t know. It’s time for sleep.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
She slowly awakened, as if from a dream. On a small two-person boat, she was perplexed at how she had gotten there. She saw ahead the accumulation of storm clouds, and the confusion quickly turned into panic. Then, she heard from behind her, “You have woken up”.
She turned around, almost as if when in a dream, and one is afraid of opening their eyes to the horror their own mind has created. When she was turned fully around, she saw a tribal-looking man, with stripes down both sides of his face with what appeared to be ash and an adhesive liquid of some sort. “You might be a little hungry”, the man said and handed over some bacon and a banana. She still did not speak, for she knew not what she would say if she did. She was hungry, so she ate the bacon and banana, both going down rather quickly as neither is very massive in size. He then handed her a canister which she assumed was water, and she drank from it.
He looked at her with a smirk of inquisitive anticipation.
“You probably are wondering where you are, and who I am”. She shook her head yes. At this point in time, she was honestly not altogether sure her vocal chords would work, and she did not feel the desire to speak. So, she simply shook her head and at the same time relaxed her tense shoulder muscles.
“Well, I am not going to tell you who I am. I am simply here to help you. Your guide, if you will.” She then suddenly was struck with the desire to speak. “How did I get here, because I really have no idea. I am actually quite confused and worried at the moment. I just remember lying down after going to eat with my boyfriend. I have been exhausted for days, in the mourning process. My favorite pet, my best friend passed away and I just have not been able to sleep. We buried him this morning, which was an ordeal which took all my energy away for today. We ate, came home and I lied down. I am really quite perplexed right now. Are we even in Ohio anymore?”
The man just sat, with his almond-shaped eyes looking at her with an intent stare. He really did not look very modern-day, and yet he did not really look like a hobo, either. He was just wearing some men’s length shorts, no shirt. It was a pleasant temperature outside, probably around 70 degrees. She usually was cold in moderate weather, and she felt fine. However, she heard the distant rumble of thunder, which worried her.
“We aren’t really anywhere. We are in a quiet, still place, a place where you need to be right now.” She was not sure what he meant, and she was becoming a bit irritated with this man’s vague way of handing her situation.
“Well, I would really like to get back home. If you could take me somewhere where I could do that, it would be greatly appreciated. I’m sure my boyfriend is really worried about me. Does he know where I am, do you know?”
The man kept looking at her. She began noticing a strange, orange hue in his almond-shaped eyes, a look that seemed familiar to her, although the look is not very common amongst men. It was almost like in werewolf movies when the man is turning, only a much, much more subtle coloration.
“We are almost there. It will only be a few more minutes”, he said. She was becoming very frustrated, and moreso scared.
“Really, we should not be out here, look at the sky. It is turning a rather bothersome shade of gray. And I hear the thunder. Warmth and storms are not a good thing. It means there may be a tornado, two different fronts colliding. I am serious, if you do not take this boat to shore, I will…”
The man then stood up abruptly, almost with the agility of a cat. There was a very distinguishable spring in his step, and she wondered if he maybe had been an athlete. His eyes had become even more slanted now, and were a bit scary, almost like a gray alien, which terrified her to no end. His bald head shone in the light of what little sun came from the slits in the gray matter in the sky. He did not really look black, or white. He didn’t really look oriental or Hispanic, either. Honestly, if there were a color between green and black, a color that no one maybe had ever seen in a human being before, it would have been the color of his skin. Almost like a marble cake, with it all swirled almost entirely together, leaving only a very fine line to tell it was, indeed marble cake.
“No, we are not going to shore. This is very important. I am sorry I cannot tell you, but a man cannot know where he is going when he is headed toward something unknown, something he has never seen before. For how could he? He has never seen. If I were to try to tell you without you seeing it with your own eyes, you may think you had gone mad and jump overboard. Not that you would drown, as this water is not more than twenty feet deep. But, there is indeed a pretty nasty storm coming, so doing so would not be in your best interest. Please, sit down and trust me. This is for you. You will soon understand. I am your friend…”
The girl now felt in a bit of a panic. She seriously began to think she had been kidnapped by some crazy person, and she frantically dug through her pockets, trying to locate a phone she should have had with her…
No phone. No idea where she was going, or where she was for that matter. Just that she was on a boat with a complete stranger, who was beginning to seem more familiar, and yet more odd and foreign by the minute. She could not have been more startled, nor dumbfounded.
Finally, a large ripping sound could be heard from the heavens, and rain began to pour down on them. She saw just ahead what looked like a formation growing in the water. But what could it be? A formation, in the water. It did not look like creature, but more like a hurricane. But a hurricane? On a lake, with a mere 20 foot depth? No way in hell that was even possible! She turned to the man, rain and hair streaking her face until all around her had become a mere blur of color and shape.
“What the hell is that?!” she screamed. She was beginning to shiver, partly from cold and partly from sheer terror. She looked at the man, and he actually looked like he was trying not to completely lose it, like a POW enduring water boarding to protect the secrets of his country. His almond-shaped eyes looked enraged. If she had to guess, she would have said he looked as if he had never touched water before, but tried to avoid it altogether his whole life.
“No, it’s not a hurricane. It is something you will have to experience. I cannot explain it to you.”
“Will it hurt me?”
“No… it will show you…”
She turned around then, and before she knew it they had entered into the gigantic formation of dark gray matter. She then felt a strange dizziness come over her, and then a sudden, almost unbearable burst of happiness and sadness, all at the same time. It was like a gigantic burden had burst from her chest, and she could finally rest in peace. She then looked over at the man… and she couldn’t believe her eyes.
To her, what her eyes wanted her to believe was that the man at this time, had turned into what appeared to be a cat, a tabby cat! The stripes of gray and black on his face had grown into fur of the same color, all over his face, like a Chia Pet on super speed. His eyes had become a very intense shade of yellowish orange, and his mouth looked tighter, puffier and had a few goatee hairs that seemed longer than the rest. His whole body, arms, legs, face… it all had taken a cat-like appearance. She felt as if he had to have been dreaming. But the rain, the wind, the “hurricane”… it all seemed so real. SO very real.
“My name is Mr. Gingist, and I have brought you here to show you that I am okay. You do not understand it now, but when you do, it will all fit together perfectly. You can rest now. I am.”
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Look, lady. I'll give you credit for one thing, and one thing only. You raiesd a helluva good man. Other than that, what the hell have you done lately? You haven't worked a job in over four years. You've lived with us for nearly two, and yet, when I ask you to do something around the house I get the equivalent of **** you."
I always clean up after your ***** *** load the dishwasher and clean up after the cats. I vacuumed your bedroom when you were gone for months, and when I ask you to do one thing, you reply "why do you always ask me to do things? You're not my mother. Why don't you go vacuum my bedroom?" If I weren't marrying your son, good god...
It really is no surprise to me you've gone through five husbands in 62 years. Given, two of them were abusive, but you've said yourself you gave up a few good ones because they didn't "meet your standards." So, I suppose since no more 20-year-old mexicans want to marry your trifling *** for citizenship, you're just going to *** it out with us.
The irony is, I DID vacuum your bedroom regularly back when you stayed at your daughter's for months on end. **** if that'll ever happen again.
I'd give you credit for more if you deserved it, but you're snide and rude although you put on a good rouse, and for that you get credit for one thing, and one thing only. The man who is 1/2 of the children who still give a **** about you. I know the other two kids are pieces of **** and you have good reason for not speaking with them, but let's face it. You'd have found a reason to disassociate with them regardless.
So, continue not showing me any affection, no touches, hugs or any form of love a future in-law should give. You're a miserable piece of **** and my relationship with your son is the only reason I put up with it.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
There are words in my mind that won’t let me go.
They strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control.
The longer they stay inside, the deeper I hide within myself, unable to seep through to what I want to say and do.
There are words in my mind that won’t let me go.
They strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control.
These words are the words I read, write and verbalize at school. They get stuck in me when I leave to go home, and suppress the words I need to express what I’m feeling to those around me that I love.
There are words in my mind that won’t let me go.
They strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control.
They are the words I cannot say to the people around me who impose, who won’t leave because they’ve no place else to go. If I say these words, bad things happen, turbulence starts up and ends in me apologizing to keep the peace.
There are words in my mind that I need to let out.
They will strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control if I don’t.
I will scream them into my pillow, or write in a journal if I have to.
They will be let out.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC