Explore enigma I do not know what to do with myself
Nothing | Entry # 1

It's been awhile. I missed writing in solitude around here and I will continue to do so now as it feels good. Here it feels like home. I can't believe I skipped so many days, so many histories without wording them. For weeks I've been wandering lost, jumping from a place to another to find a comfortable spot. I didn't. I couldn't. I've always thought I write best when no one will read what I'm saying. That means I can never say anything wrong, I can never be told to be fake. There will be no doubts than my own. This is the only place -I think- I'll ever call home.

All the days I've been away from here, I've spent them in the usual isolation but with much more grief. I feel lonelier than I've felt before. Before I came here. I doubt myself more. I doubt whether or not I am really breathing in the air. Whether or not that my tears are real when I cry. Whether or not this pain really aches. Whether it is just a laughter or not. A joke. I have become a bigger confusion to myself. Each move of mine is considered doubtful. Is it real? Am I not fooling someone here? Myself? The more I stay locked up at home, in bed, infront of the pc -I do not do nothing else to my sadness-, I feel I'm nothing. I feel something similiar to death. Though death is so much peaceful and better. I feel bad more and more. I think I could go crazy thanks to these dreadful, meaningless days.

When M. was alive -it hurts to think he's not- he kept me occupied. I admit I was afraid, I was scared to die, knowing it would affect my mother. Now that he's gone, he took away those doubts. He made me see that living for my family is the least I will or can continue to do. Many things are happening between relatives and me. I had an arguement with my brother, where he got violent on me. If it wasn't for my mun who held him away, I would've been a victim... I am getting flashbacks as I write this. I remember hurtful things. I don't want to remember. I can't remember. I am tired of living this darkness. Does this even make sense to say? My mind is also giving up on me terribly. My life is going down with me, like a plane going straightly down unto a rock to crash. There isn't anything positive I can write about. Well, there possibly is. I hope to find myself wrapped into the arms of death someday. Someday. Just one day.
Penned on Saturday, 29th of October 2005 at 00:32am

Is this regret? | Entry # 2

I heard that D. is planning to not stay in touch. Stupid as I am -I always ruin everything- I sought up his mobile number and texted him last night. Impulsively. Finally I've found the number, it was in my inbox of the community. Sometimes I think that if I didn't have hands I'd be better off. Instead of leaving things as they are, I always crawl back like an idiot giving out apologies worsening everything. I expected to have him reply... but he didn't. I kind of feel sorry for the way I treated him. The idea that he thinks I'm wicked, kills. And maybe I still like him. Or maybe because I am lonely now, I am being my two-faced, treacherous self. But I do like him (right?). I have liked him, only there were times I felt I was so unimportant (how?). That's the impression he gave me and he could say such weird things. I always have issues with the other gender which is rather sad. All these years I've been on Earth I've never talked to a guy for a long period, or had any form of bond, friendship or anything with any of them. Perhaps they know how stupid I am and they avoid crossing my path, at the same time I felt not very at peace being with them. Everytime it gets serious, the strangest things happen. They fall in love, I get crazy or they leave foregood without notifying me. I can't tell. I always have regret. I wished I thought well enough first, before doing things out of a sudden.

I dreamt we were talking to each other and I stroke his hair, motherly. It's clear, I feel I'm responsible for his feelings and the way his life leads. It's pathetic, why am I like this? I don't recall his reaction when I chucked him like that. I think he's upset. A few weeks or days ago I also mailed him to apologize. He mailed me back but till today I am terrified of reading his possible angry words to me. When I behaved in such ways with Al., she would make sure I die out of embarrassment, being unable to look up at her again. Over time I noticed I'm very borderline for being 'unable to make up my mind'. I'm such a mess and so immensely complicated. I don't understand my actions and I don't get it why I am always worrying myself sick about other people and later don't or shrug. I hate it to be so moody and changeable. I hate it to not be straight to be point, direct and firm. I'm so sticky and juicy.
Penned on Saturday, 29th of October 2005 at 16:13pm

Tired | Entry # 3

I hate it when people complain about music I listen to. Music shows a part of my being, of my soul. If they say they don't appreciate it, I feel denied and unaccepted. It offends me. People like my mother won't ever learn. I hate her and my father. I hate living. For through living I have to listen to things I can't block out.

My history is ending. I've gotten tired of writing the same things. Anyone who took a glimpse at of my life knows that something is not right though this entire website hasn't been able to show how I feel. I don't think I succeeded into knowing much about myself either. I know I'm dark and depressed. Nothing more, nothing less.

I am not happy that I threw away my cutters or else I would have been able to make myself feel a bit okay. The tiny blades I have are pathetic. Perhaps I should go to town and look around well, hopefully to find some adequate tool.

I replied everyone I owed a reply. I forced myself to so I wouldn't have to get emotional again out of the boredom I had daily. Some of them have been waiting months for me to write. I don't have any connection with these people. They were just superficial contact but at least I had soemething to do.

My dreams today were that I were slaying a lot of vampires. My eldest brother was hitting me and it annoyed him that I was not responding on his punches. I felt unaffected.

I'm tired of explaining but I have nothing better to do.
Penned on Monday, 31st of October 2005 at 19:04pm

Hurt | Entry # 4

This is it: I refuse to forgive the way I've been treated by relatives. The more I hear them, the more my eyes open to see how stupid they are. I've been down for years, they don't know shit about it. All these years and still they don't know that something is wrong with me. They carry on pretending as if everything will be alright someday. I hate them. I loathe them. I really do. I am embarrassed that I am related. I shouldn't be. I refused to be. And despite their stupidities, I sometimes defended them! I can't believe I would do that. Now I don't. I can only hope one day they feel sorry. But it won't bring me back. I think my mother once said she was going to have a miscarriage of me, or it was one of her countless superstituousnesses. If not.. I wished, I wished I died too. I really wished I died.

I feel like crying really hard. I won't.
Penned on Monday, 31st of October 2005 at 19:10pm

November | Entry # 5

November, you've gotten here too soon. Yet I am longing for your days to pass by quicker so I can achieve what I wish for.

The autumn of November isn't good for my depression. It's like any other year ever since I live here in Europe; my depression is at its worst. Again I would have to go through melancholic, sad moods and mournings whilst the cold froze me and the days darkened.

I am in touch with D. Strangely, I was feeling better than I've felt, despite the guilt, what I did to him and his thoughts (he still doesn't text me back). I think somehow I like him, seems I was in denial. He made me think of the song Cruel (I can be cruel, I don't know why). I said and felt horrible things for him to later find out they aren't there (I'm sorry, you see, I don't know me, who is me, to control me). Or I was trying to trick myself once again. Possibly I love many people at once. I don't want to mention all of them. Those feelings left me cold when the other couldn't answer me back. Not much later I would love again. To hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt. I'm made to hurt. I'd miss someone, anyone for the warmth I were missing. I miss someone.

Need to go or else I'll get into trouble now. Don't want a bigger infection.

P.S: Now I was dying, I appeared to be like someone I used to dislike. Or thought I disliked for not pleasing me. I think I like D. It made me perverted for I considered him as young for being so small. I'm disgusting. Or I'm not to be taken serious. So be it.
Penned on Wednesday, 2nd of November 2005 at 22:02pm