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What to do, what to do

June 22nd, 2009

I am all anxietied out. Feelings and similar crap doesn’t matter-I can act the part, but I don’t really give a shit about anything.

I want to talk, but I have no idea what to say…

Good thing I edit before I publish, I had wrong words in. Not that anxietied is a /real/ word…but its apt.

I feel I should be more precise and give more about this, but I just don’t give a fuckkkk. I probably sound pissed off? I’m not. I’m just…just…I don’t even know. ¬.¬

Throw away the key

June 16th, 2009

Sometimes, like today, I think the best thing for me is to be locked up and the key thrown away. Permanent or at least a couple years until the shit goes away. The confusion, pain, being mentally/emotionally stuck, the voices to shut the hell up, the ShadowMan to go away and take TheMasses along with him, and his other hangers-on. Until I scream the blackness inside out, until the darkness leaves my tears and they run clear.

I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Me. I want to just GO the Fuck AWAY. Why is that so hard to accomplish? Why do the tortures bind me here, no escape in sight? No escape on the horizon, or even the terrestrial edges of my own universe (personal hell)….

Go away

May 22nd, 2009

I want to go away. Away from this house, the people in it. Their dramas, the stress, the theft, the yelling, the anxiety. Or would I find something else I wanted to get away from if I wasn’t here? I just want to be /gone/. =[

Dual concerns….

May 14th, 2009

One, I was watching a ghost hunting show earlier that my husband had on, between reading a few pages of a book…I would look up if something sounded interesting. I should have just had my ipod on like usual. There was a video clip of a shadow, a solid shadow. Theirs looked thin and female, but it still frightened me. Not that I could see it, but because the video camera caught it, evidence of its reality. Its was, in essence, like my own Shadowman. I got hot in a flash of recognition, then chilled as I realized how real it had to be to show up on video. I’ve been better in that regard lately, with a litany of ‘he’s only real to me’ kind of thoughts. But if that one was caught on video, there /has/ to be some reality, to that one, and also to mine. I started shaking and tears oozed slowly out of my eyes as that sank in. I held it together enough that my husband didn’t notice, even though I reached over to touch him. I came so close to saying something, but I know how upset and impatient he gets about this type of thing that even though I wanted to say it out loud…so badly, so he would have an inkling of what it is that I see…I didn’t because he wouldn’t like to hear it. He says that there isn’t anything I can’t tell him, but his actions negate those words, have repeatedly, and so in that sense, I don’t trust what he says. Its almost 5 hours later and I’m just starting to settle down enough to think coherently, type with any kind of intelligibility. My heart rate was very accelerated, I was hyperventilating–not enough to lose consciousness, just enough to feel dizzy and disconnected. My stomach was fluttery and I felt quite sick. Now my heart rate is only slightly accelerated, my breathing even enough, my stomach is only in a mediocre knot, and the band around my chest/lungs is maybe 40% of what it was at peak.

As to the other concern, it was from earlier this evening, before the first concern was anything at all. I don’t like reality, and I don’t know for sure that I want it…it doesn’t feel like I do. Of course that is a topic of debate I get to hear about, and the division isn’t like usual. Usually the more sadistic and twisted of them will jump on any bandwagon that causes me stress, worry, fear etc. But there is usually the better ones, the nicer ones, who cause dissention. Trying, some of them, to be rational. One of them is hardly ever me, I basically have little opinion on anything…opinions known to the darker ones are loaded weapons handed over, eagerly accepted for their own means and ends. I suppose one of them is actually me, I’ve just distanced myself enough that I can say the opinion isn’t mine…but I don’t know for sure. Just a conjecture. But the division in ranks wasn’t as expected…one of the sadistic ones was on the con side of the arguement. Which is odd, and unsettling. She never does that, and the fact that she did makes me extremely wary. I feel sincerity from her, though she doesn’t like it, but that also a red flag, signal of an impending trap…Maybe even doom. I don’t know how else to interpret her sudden shift to this side of the line, her defection from ranks…and it doesn’t sound like a full defection, just a temporary one, on this particular subject. I’m left with confusion and chaos, but the majority stands at ‘I don’t like reality, and I don’t think I want it anymore.’ Of course the only way to permanently escape is to let go and get lost inside the void inside me…which isn’t appealing in the slightest. But with no other options available, I could end up doing that. And that vulnerability to the whos and whats in my void is shockingly dreadful to fathom…that I must be very close to ‘insane’ if I can even contemplate that. But I do contemplate that, and not wholly fearful at all times. Which in itself makes it seem less troubling, but also, even more troubling at the exact same time. =3

Well, well…what have we here

April 26th, 2009

I’m not feeling particularly angry or upset. But, I am thinking of killing people. Not that I can, physically, luckily for some people. Its nothing new, and I don’t know what brought it back up, but its here. =3 I don’t really like guns, so those are out, RA symptoms would keep me from doing anything else. The stuff I would rather do. Stabbing, cutting, ligature strangulation…maybe rendering some helpless before I kill them. Depends on the person, really. I have a few in mind, good thing I dont know where they are right now, or I might have had to try, even /with/ my limitations.

No one that ‘knows’ me, would think I’m serious if I were to say something like this out loud. Not that I would, this is the /big IF/ musings. They would say I’m not capable of hurting others, let alone killing them. But they are wrong. This side of me isn’t appropriate for sharing, so I don’t. I’ve hinted at it, dropping hints to check reactions since I was a teenager. Shock, disgust–no, revulsion, unease, disbelief are some of the most common reactions I’ve gotten. People around me don’t want to see it as reality, that it could be reality, so they don’t. Most people are very good to turning a blind eye to things they don’t want to acknowlege.

I would like to think that I have the self control to be a serial killer…but I’m not sure that would be the outcome. Too many years of impotent rage, virulent and feeding on itself, growing stronger and darker. Once unleashed, I’m not sure that I could control myself, control it to the point of stopping and letting it out in short bursts, serial killer style. I think I would more likely end up a spree killer. And that bugs me…spree killers are hardly noticed, and the attention span given to them is quite short and limited…there is always ‘a reason’. His dad was a drunk who beat him, he had no friends in school, he grew up poor, there was violence in the home, he was abandoned as a child. Those are not reasons, they are excuses. I have all but one of those in my past…and more. And my violence hasn’t been unleashed. It feels quite close sometimes…but if it ever did–or does, I don’t want anyone to think it was because of things like that. Those were fodder, they will make the fire burn brighter and hotter, but they didn’t start the fire…they just got burned. Kind of like the people who I have in mind. But, I know my IQ is high enough that I could escape notice, at least for awhile, if I was serialing…but IQ doesn’t govern always, sad to say.

Too many things to think about, I can’t get to them all…let alone my poor, fucked up fingers scrabbling to keep up. Too many thoughts and memories for one mind, no matter how well organized and effective. Alas, my IQ is pretty high, but still too low for myself to be satisfied with…and it just adds its own fodder because of this. Maybe the fodder will collect around me, and when the fire starts, I will be the only one burned. Stuck in the middle of a mess of my own making…making myself suffer as so many others before. And I shall let the rage out, finally, feel the fire as a fine rage instead of a torture. And when it burns out, my rage and the fire, I will feel no more. I may be at peace, at last. And the world will be a better place, a safer-saner place, once again.


December 29th, 2008

I thought it was bad before…its soooo much worse right now. I feel like complete and utter shit. It is agony to move, its agony to sit, lie down, stand up. I want to lay down and die, I want to just cry and cry until I die. I want it to fucking stop.

Knees are killing me

December 27th, 2008

Not literally, of course. But they are HUGE, hot and I can barely walk on them. When I do it hurts so bad I want to puke. Plus they keep trying to give out. Fucking lovely. >.> I think that’s all I’m–no wait I remember what else. I’m tired of being the fucking Bank. Anytime anyone is out of money, they come sniffing and asking me to bail their asses out. They know I like to always have a least a little bit of money in case there is an emergency, and my husband doesn’t even TRY to watch his spending, because he can just come get some from me if he runs out. Its pissing me off. Guess I’ll have to stash it and say I don’t have any so they will leave me the fuck alone about it. -.-;;

What the fuck is the point?

December 1st, 2008

Why am I indecisive about everything? I want to die, but conversely part of me doesn’t…I can’t figure out who is right. So I do nothing–make plans that I always push back. Then I’m just stuck with the same shit, plus I end up feeling worse about myself for being so indecisive and dumb. Its a clear cut decision, its not complex D= But I MAKE it complex. ‘Maybe if I get help’ or ‘maybe if I can just ignore it’ or ‘maybe if I pretend I don’t have abnormal problems’ or ‘since no one likes to hear about it, I’ll just work it out within myself’ or ‘this is bullshit, no one else needs this much help–why should I?’ and I don’t think I deserve it, I’ve had it in my head and believe for Many Many years that I would die at my own hand… so the love, help, attachments, meds, resources-wouldn’t they be better invested elsewhere? Why should I use the resources up if its not going to ultimately help and I will not have given back anything anyway. I don’t think if I DO get help I will enjoy anything anyway, and I’ll still see and hear (etc) the shit I do now. So, what is the fucking point? Does anyone know? Does it matter? If I don’t believe there is a point, is there one?

I called a treatment center I went to and told the lady who answered a little about the shit and she thinks I should go to the ER and get admitted somewhere. Part of me agrees, I Need help–I can’t do this alone. But why should I get it if I’m going to die anyway, it doesn’t matter, does it? If I accept help isn’t that implying that I will TRY and ‘be good’ and do all the shit I’m supposed to… Which, when I have it like that–it sounds fucking retarded. Dx If there is a way out, shouldn’t I take it and at least TRY it? But again, back to the basic pointlessness……..

Fuck, fucking shit, motherfucking cocksucking bastard…I don’t know what to DO. And it seems its my own fault. If I’m at fault, I deserve it–part of me believes that. Part of me doesn’t Want to believe that, though. And the stupid ass mother fucking cycle continues. Dx

Random CnPs
People who have suicidal thoughts may not seek help because they feel they cannot be helped.

I have 8 of the listed things that ‘increase your risk of suicide’

Do you think about suicide much of the time? Yes–If you are unable to reach your health professional immediately, go directly to the nearest hospital emergency department.

Take all warning signs seriously, even if the suicidal threat or attempt seems minor. Take any conversation about suicide seriously, even the person mentions it in a joking manner.

Since a suicidal person may feel he or she cannot be helped, you may have to take an active role in finding a health professional and getting the person to the appointment.

Follow up to find out how the person’s treatment is going. A suicidal person may be reluctant to seek help and may not continue with treatment after the first visit with a health professional.

Dizzy, shaky, weird

November 29th, 2008

Right now I’m feeling kind of dizzy–not like vertigo, but a different kind of dizzy. Its similar to how I felt before psychosis before. I feel shaky and weak–but I’m not /actually/ shaking or more weak than normal. Overall, I guess I’m feeling weird, odd, off…

I don’t know what to do about it, and if its like before, there IS nothing I can do about it. =/


November 22nd, 2008

2 years ago when I wrote here. Fucking crazy shit, everything is the same–some is actually worse. I don’t even know where to begin laying out the similarities/differences between then and now. Just, shit, fucking believe me and at some point I might try to get into life-shit and its specifics.