Thursday, November 22, 2007
back from xp. actually been back for quite a while. these few days, whenever i'm on the com, i try to blog. i type in the URL, wait for the page to load, fill in user name and password, wait for the page to load, click on "New Post", wait for page to load, and end up staring at a blank box. then my mind just blanks, overloads and shuts down. then i close the page.
i'm not sure why i'm only able to blog right now. i think it's because i feel that whatever happened during the XP is so intensely emotional and private that i can't type it out. and i won't. it's only for me and all the people involved to know, and remember. i can't force myself to type something that would turn out, a fake. unreal. more mind than heart. and so i won't. but i can tell you what i've become. a spartan. of the lowest order. but that's what i'm here to do. to keep pushing myself till i become the best person i can be. i onli am a spartan by my friends' patience and help. and not by my own strength. that is my greatest disappointment, and pride.
i'm feeling emotional. very. i'm missing all the members who went for phase 2. they'll be back tommorrow. hopefully i'm given a time by then so i can go and pick them up. but it's in the biggest crowd where i feel the loneliest. and even now, i feel so very alone. i've disappointed every person i've met in this life. including myself, countless times. each time i do this, it's like a blow i deal out. how much more can i take before my body crumples and fails? like a piece of parchment discarded to stray winds.
why do i even hope? why do i even try? is this my measure of human stubborness? it's in the genes i guess. or maybe it's because i'm not a likeable person. at all. well. that hurts. more than i thought possible. i try anyway. but the question "why?" still pops in. why? why? why? i don't know. i don't have an answer. honest. jesus i wish i did. i pray i have an answer for me. but i don't. i'm quite literally empty. sharp wit. useless wit, with no funnel to which i can apply it.
i don't hate myself anymore. that's a good thing. i guess. i don't hate, in general. i dislike. now at any rate. last time, anger was power. literally. the adrenaline and chemical stuff, u know? (don't know then go and check wiki). physically felt stronger, eyesight faster, reactions faster, blah blah. so naturally i gave in to the anger bit. but it became unhealthy after a while. had heart burns more often. emotionally black ALL THE TIME. (not depression ,mind, just black.)
Not much different from what i'm feeling now.
it's just a hole. a deep deep hole. empty and dark. utter nothingness that reverberates in the gloom. shaking the dust of pain from the seemingly endless ceiling of night. whoa. damn emotional. there's going to be a poem at the end of this entry. so get ready.
im even questioning why the hell i'm posting this. it's not going to do any good. it's just an outlet. a chance for me to COMPLAIN and BITCH about life that sucks at this point in time. no. that's not the way. i need to face it. smack it around till it's nice and tender. and comfortable. i make my presence felt in silence and behind-the-scenes action.
boy. i've no idea what i'm talking about.
i must be mad.
racking my mind against the useless.
knocking my brains to pulp.
they were functioning as such anyway.
no matter.
what i do now,
is beyond comprehension,
yours or mine.
the floor shakes.
the sky turns.
or is it just me?
my sky is purple.
my sun rise is blue.
what's yours?
a rainbow vertigo,
almost pleasent.
am i high on something?
a carelessness encroaches me.
me. not my mind.
me.
it's focus is me.
am i it's prey?
or am i the one seeking it.
the predator?
a sheep perhaps,
in wolf's clothing.
i don't care.
and in saying that, i submit.
ironic. irony.
a thing we can't live without,
yet we'd rather live without.
we will find however, the futility of such hope,
or similar future endeavours in this scene.
ironic load of bull i'm spouting.
all the friendly faces.
so dear.
so dear.
i'll never let them go.
but Death will release them from my bondage.
damn you, Death.
can't memory stretch beyond the grave?
can't i give a damn even after i'm dust?
dust that'd make you sneeze,
if i don't already, that is.
scattered mumblings of a mad man.
what is mad?
i reckon a point of view.
'cause in my eyes,
you're all mad.
5:12 AM
