When I woke up, I remembered the dream. It was only slightly, but I still remembered it.
I felt like something heavy was on me. Something was pulling on my shoulders.
Like at a swimming pool on a hot summer, someone jumping on your back and pulling you down in the water, but you don’t know who. When I woke up, there was a presence in my room that soon faded after a while. Like some person was standing there watching me sleep. Feeding thoughts into my head. It was all weird. Throughout the whole dream, I could touch myself in reality too. I rolled over once, careful to keep my hands together. Rolled over twice, moved a bit. The dream was weird too. I had an instant control over anybody and I could make them do exactly what I wanted them to do, just by telling them. Then I woke up, hot, sweaty, unsure of what reality was and what was a dream. I felt lost. Like, something was pulling me back into the dream world, but I decided to stay in the real world.
Call me crazy, but, I would like to go back to that experience. The control over the people in my dream was relentless. The power. I still remain weak at this moment. I’ll find a way though…I’ll find a way.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Patience...
I’ve figured out my definition of life. It’s something that we go through, just to get to the end, we suffer, we wait.
When we’ve reached the point to where we have nothing left to say, not a word to utter.
Nothing left to feel, for we are senseless,
That is when life is truly over.
But many people misunderstand that feeling with the feeling of depression.
Some mope around and don’t say anything, and pretend not to feel anything because they want life to be over. They are getting a sick feeling of sadness. It’s like a vine.
Or more like a vein. It starts off at a huge point in their lives. Then it gets thinner, and thinner, and it leafs off into more parts of them. I feel so very sorry for those who cannot rid themselves of depression. And those who are happy claim that it’s easy. I’ll tell you it’s not. You need another setting to attend to. New people, new place, new world. They need a place to be comfortable. It was quite quick for me to get over my depression. So does that mean I was even depressed in the first place? It might. It might not. All I know is how I was feeling. How I wanted to be. Who I was. Who I was dealing with. I took bullshit from just about anybody who would lay it out to me. I took it and I let it sink in until finally it took grasp of my throat and started to squeeze. I felt suffocated. My situation: Sitting in a dusty room. Small television. Nothing to watch. Bored. Ate whenever I was bored. The room was dark. Dimly lit, I should say. I was home alone most of the days, it was usually rainy. It was a quite depressing neighborhood seeing I lived there with my mom and younger brother. It was a new subdivision and our house was one of three. 2 old people lived in one and a retarded man in the other. Yeah, life there was just grand. Eventually, I cut myself. More, and more, and more. I bled out the loneliness, I bled out the pain. Hell yes, it hurt, but it was comforting. My situation now: Better neighborhood. Sun shining in my room constantly. New friends. An actual, living, breathing, next door neighbor boyfriend. Better school. Nicer, more, open people. As you can tell the difference, it’s pretty big. I feel better now. I haven’t even thought about bringing a razor to my skin. Although I did suffocate myself here, it wasn’t for long and I was just being stupid and taking a situation out of control. So as you can see, when life is painful, it is supposed to be painful. You are supposed to be patient and wait for the road to end, even if it is horrible and sad and tragic. It will end. But the sun will still shine, others will still live, and peace with still stay within the hearts of others. You should go through life, go through the tears, go through the pain, and even if it gets fucked up a tiny bit, you should wait and see what kind of tragic (or beautiful) ending life has to offer. No, I’m no talking you out of suicide or saying you shouldn’t consider. I’m saying, patience is a virtue and when you wait, trudge through life, close some doors and walk through some open ones, the wait could possibly change your life.
When we’ve reached the point to where we have nothing left to say, not a word to utter.
Nothing left to feel, for we are senseless,
That is when life is truly over.
But many people misunderstand that feeling with the feeling of depression.
Some mope around and don’t say anything, and pretend not to feel anything because they want life to be over. They are getting a sick feeling of sadness. It’s like a vine.
Or more like a vein. It starts off at a huge point in their lives. Then it gets thinner, and thinner, and it leafs off into more parts of them. I feel so very sorry for those who cannot rid themselves of depression. And those who are happy claim that it’s easy. I’ll tell you it’s not. You need another setting to attend to. New people, new place, new world. They need a place to be comfortable. It was quite quick for me to get over my depression. So does that mean I was even depressed in the first place? It might. It might not. All I know is how I was feeling. How I wanted to be. Who I was. Who I was dealing with. I took bullshit from just about anybody who would lay it out to me. I took it and I let it sink in until finally it took grasp of my throat and started to squeeze. I felt suffocated. My situation: Sitting in a dusty room. Small television. Nothing to watch. Bored. Ate whenever I was bored. The room was dark. Dimly lit, I should say. I was home alone most of the days, it was usually rainy. It was a quite depressing neighborhood seeing I lived there with my mom and younger brother. It was a new subdivision and our house was one of three. 2 old people lived in one and a retarded man in the other. Yeah, life there was just grand. Eventually, I cut myself. More, and more, and more. I bled out the loneliness, I bled out the pain. Hell yes, it hurt, but it was comforting. My situation now: Better neighborhood. Sun shining in my room constantly. New friends. An actual, living, breathing, next door neighbor boyfriend. Better school. Nicer, more, open people. As you can tell the difference, it’s pretty big. I feel better now. I haven’t even thought about bringing a razor to my skin. Although I did suffocate myself here, it wasn’t for long and I was just being stupid and taking a situation out of control. So as you can see, when life is painful, it is supposed to be painful. You are supposed to be patient and wait for the road to end, even if it is horrible and sad and tragic. It will end. But the sun will still shine, others will still live, and peace with still stay within the hearts of others. You should go through life, go through the tears, go through the pain, and even if it gets fucked up a tiny bit, you should wait and see what kind of tragic (or beautiful) ending life has to offer. No, I’m no talking you out of suicide or saying you shouldn’t consider. I’m saying, patience is a virtue and when you wait, trudge through life, close some doors and walk through some open ones, the wait could possibly change your life.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Life?
What’s the meaning of life? Is it a simple, common necessity that is mainly needed among the living?
Of course the definition of life is to live. You could say that for some people. Yeah, I’ve been one of those types of people who hate it. Hell, I’ve even tried to terminate my own. Who has the time to deal with a living, breathing individual like myself? And many people ask, “Oh no, why? Why? Why do you wish to take your own life, you have so much to live for.” Oh really? Have you really been inside my head and thought what I’ve thought, felt what I’ve felt and diminished the harsh feelings only for them to grow back another day? Simple-soul hearts can only take so much pain before it comes crushing down and strangling the life of thee. But, as you can see, I have failed at even attempting it because I am a coward. Death. It scares me. The mere thought makes me tremble and sweat as though it is pointing a gun at my throat and about to release a silver-kissed bullet through my trachea. Death is the only reason I haven’t killed myself. I am also afraid at the thought of losing breath. Breathing calms me down. It calms my senses. It helps me live and work. But if I can’t breathe anymore than I’m incapable of thinking and I panic. I’ve tried suffocation, doesn’t work. Self-mutilation: I’ve done to the point of pain, not death. I just wanted to feel the sting. Not take my life. But, what makes a soul want to continue living? Those who succeed in killing themselves had no true soul to begin with. They were hurt from the beginning ‘til the sorrowed end. But even at my times when I say I can do it, I can’t. My soul is my drug. I stick the needle in my skin and a luscious liquid flows through my veins. Of course, there is pain but it only hurts for a little while, then a rush of blood flows through me once more. But, if we could just close our eyes, and never wake up, still breathe, still see, still hear the wonders of life and all, I’d have killed myself a long, long time ago.
[Shakespeare: Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?]
Of course the definition of life is to live. You could say that for some people. Yeah, I’ve been one of those types of people who hate it. Hell, I’ve even tried to terminate my own. Who has the time to deal with a living, breathing individual like myself? And many people ask, “Oh no, why? Why? Why do you wish to take your own life, you have so much to live for.” Oh really? Have you really been inside my head and thought what I’ve thought, felt what I’ve felt and diminished the harsh feelings only for them to grow back another day? Simple-soul hearts can only take so much pain before it comes crushing down and strangling the life of thee. But, as you can see, I have failed at even attempting it because I am a coward. Death. It scares me. The mere thought makes me tremble and sweat as though it is pointing a gun at my throat and about to release a silver-kissed bullet through my trachea. Death is the only reason I haven’t killed myself. I am also afraid at the thought of losing breath. Breathing calms me down. It calms my senses. It helps me live and work. But if I can’t breathe anymore than I’m incapable of thinking and I panic. I’ve tried suffocation, doesn’t work. Self-mutilation: I’ve done to the point of pain, not death. I just wanted to feel the sting. Not take my life. But, what makes a soul want to continue living? Those who succeed in killing themselves had no true soul to begin with. They were hurt from the beginning ‘til the sorrowed end. But even at my times when I say I can do it, I can’t. My soul is my drug. I stick the needle in my skin and a luscious liquid flows through my veins. Of course, there is pain but it only hurts for a little while, then a rush of blood flows through me once more. But, if we could just close our eyes, and never wake up, still breathe, still see, still hear the wonders of life and all, I’d have killed myself a long, long time ago.
[Shakespeare: Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?]
Friday, April 9, 2010
Starring..ME!
So, I'm not necessarily going to bore into your mind with my endless speech about hating life and everything and everyone in it. Lest we say that I'm going to be informing about the "wonders" of life and what is causing us to continue it. Unless you're dead... O_o ...
rawr. Okay, I'm through with that. So, about your blogmaster(me)...my name, my identity, my everything shall be protected. Everything except for my mind and what i think and what I feel.
So how am I feeling right now? You could say that I'm bored. I just started this blog and I'm kind of new and fresh to the whole thing, any pointers?
Just let me know. For now, my good friend, I will edit this bastard of a blog and begin my master plan to rule the world with my point of view. In fact, my point of view is going to be so undergroud that it'll be overground. I'm not boasting. Just saying, if you want to share this with others, that'd be whoop-de-damn-do great, mmmkay?
Thanks much, kiddo.
Okay, I'm gone for now. Going to check out the mods I can do with this baby and see if I can do some cool stuff with this thingy-ma-jigger.
Bye.
[Lyric of the Day]: I found a reason for me, to change who I used to be, a reason to start over new, and the reason is YOU.
rawr. Okay, I'm through with that. So, about your blogmaster(me)...my name, my identity, my everything shall be protected. Everything except for my mind and what i think and what I feel.
So how am I feeling right now? You could say that I'm bored. I just started this blog and I'm kind of new and fresh to the whole thing, any pointers?
Just let me know. For now, my good friend, I will edit this bastard of a blog and begin my master plan to rule the world with my point of view. In fact, my point of view is going to be so undergroud that it'll be overground. I'm not boasting. Just saying, if you want to share this with others, that'd be whoop-de-damn-do great, mmmkay?
Thanks much, kiddo.
Okay, I'm gone for now. Going to check out the mods I can do with this baby and see if I can do some cool stuff with this thingy-ma-jigger.
Bye.
[Lyric of the Day]: I found a reason for me, to change who I used to be, a reason to start over new, and the reason is YOU.
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