born to be down

the world is like a parody that went too far with the material and lost itself in absurdity. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry so i do nothing but wring my hands and wonder where the fuck we went wrong. i wanna leave but there is no distance far enough to escape the insanity, the inanity, the injustice.

times like these remind me why i’m all anti-theology. what sick, twisted mind would come up with a world like this? maybe me, but in an ironic way. but as much as i joke about being a glorious god-queen, i don’t reckon i would be egotistical or sadistic enough to make such a cold world that, as full as it is, often feels so devoid of meaning or i don’t know; resolution or something. like, where is the clarity? we’re all among the filth and muck and we will never be clean, we’ll just be dead. sometimes the best part of a story is the end, and the world contains many of these stories.

as much as some people aspire towards something bright and white-washed pure, they are such brutal, repugnant monsters that deserve nothing but their own miserable company. do they not see what a joke it is that they pretend moral righteousness while they lie, cheat, steal, rape, murder, covet, et cetera?

i look across at the multitudes and i see nothing good among them sometimes, just lesser evils. i don’t want to be the unforgiving type, but why forgive someone when they are not asking for anything like forgiveness? they are past feelings of conscience. and i’m not here to play jiminy cricket to their lying-ass peter pan bullshit. i get sick of having to be patient and kind and understanding while on the inside i seethe and boil over. or better yet, rant online.

sorry this was so dark. i swear i’m not even down or anything. i’m past feeling anything but a slow disdainful shake of the head made into a feeling.

i gazed to the stars and this view can’t be shared

i’m feeling a bit better now that i’ve studied some and emailed one of my profs. less scattered, out of sorts. i have a mission. i have my goal. i just have to get through tomorrow.

i think i miss the days of inspiration, of words. perhaps i should read more. i have a long list of books, they seem like a chore tho. so heavy on my mind when i think of them waiting on me. i feel sometimes like there is so much waiting on me. like if i would only find the door, i could open it and be in a whole other plane of existence. if i would only look at something the right way, i could see the whole freaking aleph.

i used to think i could draw inspiration from my depression, that i could make something beautiful to hold in the darkness. but i don’t know anymore. and i’m so full of self-recrimination, blaming myself for my fickle mind. my mom told me that once, and it has echoed in my mind when i’m feeling especially low: you just don’t want to be happy.

as if i only wanted it more, it would arrive, arms wide, for a sweet embrace, and stay with me always. as if happiness is like some kind of stupid love that if you want it badly enough, you can find a way, simple as that. fuck that noise. if it were only that easy.

but that’s just the way my brain likes to work: sick, and i have to just keep forcing myself out of my oft-run tracks of thought.

i gotta say tho, one thing that annoys me right now is my meds. like, i practically have one to wake me up, one to help me sleep. and i know it’s not a weakness to need medicine, i tell myself that every freaking day. but the sly fox of a thought always sneaks up and grabs the first thought by the throat, gives it a little shake. a twig-like neck-snap later, the positivity is dead and useless to me. ’cause meds are a weakness, the fox-thought whispers. you should feel ashamed, the fox laughs.

so i do feel ashamed. i doubt i would ever name off the medications i am on to anyone other than a doctor irl, ever. ’cause that’s how much that stupid idea has gotten to me.

and around and around i go in my oft-run tracks of thought.

tonight though, i’m only half sad girl, promise.

peace, patted-shoulder fondness, and sleep. sleep, most of all.

pick it up, pick it all up and start again

i’m sick again. this winter has been kind of wretched for illness. it started as a sort of tickle in the back of my throat and then it hurt to swallow, then i started coughing. then i couldn’t breathe through my nose, lol. and that’s how i freaking breathe. i couldn’t sleep because of it. i missed a day of class, which sucks, but hey, it will be okay. i don’t wanna sound whiny, but the worst was the feverish, general shitty feeling that comes with being sick.

i’m in a good mood because i don’t work tomorrow. the first sunday off in a few weeks.

well i guess it isn’t a good mood, quite. i actually feel kind of numb. but feeling nothing is better than down in the dumps, just kill me now depression.

and i’m obviously getting better, physical illness-wise. i haven’t been coughing nearly as much; it’s just my sinuses that kind of hurt.

the weather was nice today.

i’m trying not to be down, trying not to think about not having friends, not having anyone other than my parents and siblings to care about me. i don’t know. like, my family’s love is heavy, a burden sometimes. often i think it’s the only reason i keep living, keep aimlessly striving. people say that a burden shared is a burden lifted, or something like that. i don’t really think that’s true at all. ’cause not only then do you have to worry, you worry about the other person worrying. so you just hold on to your burdens and jealously guard them against anyone who would try to take them away. i don’t know who i would be without this weight on my shoulders anyway.

on a bright side, ava is being really friendly lately. she lets all of us pet her, and when i go into the kitchen to cook she will often follow me in and meow at me. she likes the rug in the dining room, and if you walk over to it she will often follow, and roll around to receive pets. i don’t know what it is, but she’s really coming around to us. she is still a little skittish, but you can tell she at least has a fondness for us. she likes to lay on the back of the couch, behind where i’m always sitting. i love her so much and feel really grateful to have her.

i remember when ava was still a feral cat living outside, me and my mom were walking lucy in the dead of winter, and we spotted her sitting on a manhole cover for warmth. she looked so forlorn and cold, meowing at us with her raspy little voice, that my heart seriously broke a bit. it was hard because i never thought we could help her much, i thought that she would probably die out there one day, somehow, in the cold world, alone. that we have her with us now is amazing to me. i mean, yeah, i’m an easy crier, so this doesn’t mean much, but i could seriously tear up thinking about how lucky we are to have ava and the kittens. lol, and ari, of course.

and lucy is eternal, so i feel like she goes without mentioning.

ok, enough waxing poetic about pets. i’m going to try to sleep.

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