Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Outside

I thought my feet were on the ground. Then I swept her up in my arms and suddenly everything was just a blur. I see three stars and I find them all so beautiful, it is a crime to choose. And yet, it is a greater crime not to. I feel no guilt for my actions, as my wrists don't bleed in payment to the voices in my head that whisper my crimes. I hope that I am judged by a merciful God, for I did not mean to sin.

I did not mean to sin. I just wanted some fireworks.

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Which way is up again?

I am lost. Love forsakes you. Friends are ephemeral. I'm trying to find myself but all I've done is lost my own hope. I don't believe in a benevolent God, but the strength of the human self and the inherent stability within. Right now though, I doubt myself so much I could get hurt.

I am actively suicidal. I am going through a very rough time right now. I am trying to make love exist in an uncaring world throguh sheer force of will. Pain is love, and I am in a great deal of pain.

Someone help me?

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Bad Decisions Make For Good Times

Diving off a cliff of romance.
Falling.
10,000 feet.
8,000.
3,000.
500.
Boom.

I don't know how this will end, but I hope if it blows up in my face I see the beauty in the flames.

A Poetic Thought

Juliet gave me what I asked for. A promise to see this unrequited love through. I've got all that I wanted, now I just need to face everything else.

"So now I can write in my suicide note that hers were the first and last lips that ever kissed mine. I guess that's all anyone can ask."

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Kerouac

I've been reading a lot of weird writing lately, mainly Down In Me and Reclaiming Imogen. I really like it, it's manageable in brevity and thought-provoking in the way it disturbs me. I might take up writing like this. I worry that someone will find it and the works will ruin my future career, but then this comes to mind. This thought process is the same thing that prevents me from linking my blog on facebook. I have over 100 "friends" but I still hesitate to show more than a few (those who are reading this) who I really am. I know they won't accept me. This knowledge is odd in that I enjoy playing in their world but need to live in mine.

So really, time will tell what I will do. Oh, and I should really get around to reading Kerouac, he sounds like a pretty cool guy.

Oh, and Juliet thought I killed myself. How quaint. Some days I wish I had. Hopefully the new medication will help with that. But really, I think the world is more beautiful when looking at it from the perspective of "after I die, she gets to live and..."

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Awakening

I've been asleep since I came home. College was torture, it only took me until the end to see it. So when I came home, I blotted it out. I've been playing World of Warcraft upwards of 12 hours a day lately.

But tonight I read a book, called "Manic". It's about manic-depression, whihc I'm pretty sure I don't have, but it was a trip anyway. I usually avoid reading literature or watching movies because my emotions merge with the art and I lose myself, leaving me depressed, euphoric, or even dangerous to be around. But tonight, I read and woke up from the malaise. But only time will tell if this feeling will last through tomorrow morning.

Oh, and Neveret?
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Home and Miserable

The first thing I did when I got home from college was call my best friend from high school and get drunk, waking up to realize he had used at least half of my brand new pack for cigarettes and bookmarked porn to my computer. I almost would have preferred a hangover. After the bonding was over though, I was forced to resign to my mother's new house.

So, all I've done since coming back is smoke cigarettes and play World of Warcraft. It's an existence without meaning and I'm absolutely miserable. The worst part is that I don't want anything more than to sleep. I don't feel the need to change even though I have the vague memories of meaning and desire. Now I'm left without passion in the place between the hours, what was previously my refuge.

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