Journals Scribbled down on Tuesday, 23 August 2005 18:57:44 PM
Though I don't post on my boards anymore, sometimes I go back there to read all the posts I ever posted. I either recall something I didn't know I had done or I read something which surprises me that I ever wrote it. I went there and saw two guests posted. I never really bother to read guests posts as sometimes it could be people (members, I think) who try to provoke more postings by accessing the board as a guest. It once happened how someone posted and later one came bashing the member and both under the same IP. I saw a link in one of the member's profile, it led me to a journal. I like signatures or when someone has a website, that way I can learn more about them as a person. I had read her diary before, except I never posted as I couldn't. You have to register to post comments so that's what I did. I sacrificed a few minutes to create a stupid profile and tried to be very superficial so she wouldn't think it was me when she checks my diary. I didn't sign off with a name, only a sign I sometimes like using. I like reading and the mind of a human stays fascinating. We have both good and bad things inside and I like to discover the answer on the question 'why?'. I was told to better take the citalopram. I am doubting. Why should I take it if it doesn't make me feel well? I'm thinking, it could be my period. During the time of the month I feel lots of gass in my stomach, maybe it's not the medication. I shall see by next week. I have an appointment this Friday with 'authorities'. How else can I name people who want to decide things for you? I don't feel like going. I want to cancel the date to a time in the future but still I don't feel like going. It's hard to talk to someone while they don't know anything what you're feeling or going through to even understand you or to adjust theirself a bit to you, without hurting you. I once talked to a foreign man there. When I got home I told Al. about it on MSN as I started crying and I kept crying for being so stupid and quickly hurt. He told me I was distant and shy that I needed to open up if I want to be something in the society but really rudely. I don't remember it perfectly but it was last year. I never went back. I hate to say that I'm not really okay. They don't really understand and in all cases they ask me for proves. I will see what I will do. The summer is gone. It's like there hasn't been any summer. I thought I'd sunbathe for a very long time. It's okay though. We still have heaters all around the house and I can still take warm showers when I feel cold. Under the shower and in the toilet are the weirdest places where I sometimes feel inspired. Seriously. I don't know why... maybe because you have the chance to be quiet and follow your thoughts better. I can't do that in my bedroom where my mother is repeatedly walking in and out on me. I'm in a writer's block for not having my own space. My mother got anxious this afternoon. You could hear it by her hysterious voice that changed volume and speed. She'd whisper to later speak louder as she was glaring at the roof shouting 'but I don't do anything to you why do you have to pay attention to all that I do everyday, and keep making cutting noises like you want to see me dead and that knocking you did, following me everywhere' and so forth. I was on the computer at the moment and ignored her, now and then smiling as it was rather sad to see someone loose it by their assumptions as to me, there wasn't anything really that should bother her. But then I got mad when she was on the phone with my eldest brother a few minutes later. She had texted him to call her. 'Even enigma woke up screaming in the evening because of the things this man does. We stay up every night till late because the man doesn't let us sleep either'. What? I thought. What a big lie. I wrote about this somewhere here. That day when that happened I was having a weird dream and why would I wake up screaming by some asshole who wasn't here inside this house? And I was up every night to write a journal entry. What's wrong with my mother? She takes all events and uses them to give sense to her 'craziness'. It was disturbing to see her on the phone with my brother, I am sure he laughed when he hung up on her. He is the one who would make joke about everything. My mother held the phone a few centimeters from her ear as she dictated all the past events starting from June with a very anxious voice that sometimes couldn't find the right words. My brother told her to call the police so he won't murder us. He is joking, right? He is. My mum definitely needed to get out often and she can't do that alone. I am the one who has to accompany her. I woke up an hour ago and heard her telling me: 'Why don't you say anything about it, enigma?' I frowned and tried to block my ears. 'You see him, you know what he's doing is wrong, why don't you defend me?' 'You will see, one day when you find me dead, then you will understand but it's too late. God watches and knows everything'. Sometimes I felt like I was in a creepy movie like Carrie where her mother constantly tells her what the devil does if she succumbs to him. *shivers* Things haven't been like this before. But today it was aweful as everyday my mum has something to say about the neighbour who lives above us. I hope my brother will dare (he once said he would) go up to his house to speak to him, so my mum could leave this all behind. She mightn't.

«« death taking place -- prisoned by life »»