Thursday, October 20, 2011
Incapable
What the fuck am I doing on all these forums. Typing everything out, re-reading it and realizing the simple solution and deleting everything, only to realize that I am back to square one again. Oh my God...
``larcenciel
Music: Inescapable - Jessica Mauboy
Mood: Disappointed
3:52 AM
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Can You Still Go Barefoot When Your Brain Is Under Someone's Control?
Shut up by a little Thorazine? Wimp voices, dumbass. You can tell them I said so. I've taken enough Haldol to paralyze an elephant, and my voices never stopped chatting. So I dropped the drugs and reached a tenuous truce with the loudmouths within.
Voices are not a problem. The only problem is people's reactions to them, especially your own. Never jump out of a window because some voice says you can fly. Just because it's some hallucination doesn't mean it's smart. When a voice tells me to do something, I just say, "Buzz off, I'm not your errand boy." Works for me.
When you have five or six voices talking at once, it can be very hard to maintain a normal lifestyle. My solution is to forget normal. Sorry but that's how it is. Sure, some people become hysterical when faced with anything outside their (very limited) experience. But who cares if they won't sit next to you on the bus? Who cares if security guards follow you around whenever you dare set foot in their department stores? Who cares if the old ones don't want you in their subsidized housing and the young ones throw stones at your windows and call you names?
And that's my advice for today. You can heed it - the way you listen to them voices, or you could just fuck it... either way, you would have taken my advice. That's the best part of being general. Just like how my therapist says it.
``larcenciel
Music: Mr Know It All - Kelly Clarkson
Mood: Hallucinating
3:36 AM
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Just Love Me, Dammit!
If you loved me, I wouldn't have to hate you. I wouldn't have to look at you and get angry for your inability to be content with just holding my hand. Come on, just do it. Just love me. It's really not that hard. A few feisty comments, a sense of humour and a nice butt is all I need to keep me happy. But I guess this isn't about me. It's about you needing something different than what I can give you. This "thing" is elusive and I hate it. If they were selling "the thing" that could make you love me forever, I would buy it in a heartbeat. In fact, I'd buy two just in case the other one ran out of batteries or something. I would do anything to make you love me, which makes me hate myself and then you and then back to myself again.
-Ryan O'Connell, Frankie, Sep/Oct 2011
``larcenciel
Music: Face Down - Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Mood: Tipsy
1:45 AM
Saturday, October 01, 2011
Brink
Two mornings ago, I jolted up from a vivid, gut-wrenching dream - no, nightmare - and found myself gasping for air and blinking away unshed tears that had welled up in my eyes. I know it's dumb, but remembering the dream still unsettles me greatly. In a nutshell, I found myself caught hostage in the middle of a terrorist attack and someone important to me turned against me.
I realized two things; the piercing pain of betrayal and my unexplainable and irrational fear of dying. At that moment when the familiar face pointed a gun at me and wanted to seal the deal; I remember - so, so vividly as if it really happened - I shook my head vehemently and pleaded and pleaded and begged for my life to be spared. I still remember the exact words, No, please don't. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. Please.
I didn't die, but I received a bullet in my left arm.
It's funny, because I always thought I was never that afraid of dying and, admittedly, even welcomed that idea a few times. I thought, dying wouldn't be so bad... Living is so much more of a battle anyway... especially when life gives you everything just so it can take it all away again, or even worse, when you don't even know what you're living for; when you don't even feel the life in life; and when you feel so ashamed and angry at your own life - living, so to speak - at the expense of everything else or everyone else around you.
But now I know, death is different from dying. Surely in dying the process it is more long-drawn and in that moment you still have some sort of life in you and you are half-living and because living is so much pain and hurt and sadness and hatred the process of dying while still half-living must be the worst of all. It is like being stuck in twilight, neither up nor down, neither here nor there. And while that lingers for a few moments, after that, there can be no more pain or hurt or sadness or hatred. Maybe in death there is nothing and just a dull sense of void, but that too, is still better than what life offers now. It must be. It has to be. I must get out of this sort of limbo to something else. Although when the time comes, will I be able to? Or will I keep fighting against it? Keep pleading it not to take me and keep suppressing and delaying it with that irrational fear of... of what?
``larcenciel
Music: Where Is My Mind - Yoav feat. Emily Browning
Mood: Sorrowful
3:01 AM