How I feel Scribbled down on Monday, 19 September 2005 7:57:52 AM
Dearest diary, This is exactly how I feel: I feel like a coffee in white milk, something that ruins the whole beauty or things people stand for. I feel so intensely pointless. Like a waste of flesh and blood. Why am I here then if I don't serve any purpose anyone else has or are having? I want to entirely fade without leaving traces, without being noticed. Without I noticing that I'm gone. I don't wish to remember. Remembrances are painful souvenirs for the mind, a torture for an already chaotic mind. I don't want to know how I was and will never continue to be. Everything hurts, even moving hurts. The fact that I'm human hurts. That my body is touching the air, I feel, is so painful. It's like I'm contaminating it with my dark, morbid cells or scent. I feel I'm a poison, a threat, a menace to all that is alive. Sometimes I'm even scared of myself, because I'm unpredictable. Or because I don't know me. I don't really feel like me. I feel like Anakin being placed into the Darth Vader suit. It's not me. I'm underneath, somewhere. This is not me what I'm looking at. But I have looked inside and all there's been are blood and meat, flesh and creepy things, aside of the nice sight and beauty blood had. So smooth. I feel sickened but not crazy. I am sickened, yet sane. I am still sane, I believe. I'm such a burden and I'm tired. I'm always tired that no sleep is enough to keep me awake without one single yawn on a day.

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