Haven't a clue why I have been as squeaky clean with my words, because, to be perfectly honest, the world is never 'clean'. It's dingy, murky, and full of grotesque abominations that would even the most heinous hell-raisers of the deepest pits even cringe. Corruption of the light happening daily, the feeling of hopelessness doing more to debase one's life than any issue one might face.
Personally, right now, I am sitting in a chair, hoping it was electrified, or I possibly had a nine millimeter in hand, give it a taste, and wait for the messy climax with quite an anticipation that is rivaled to the mere mention of an iPad for Christmas.
Speaking of Christmas, it makes it nearly impossible for anyone working a job, let alone two, to have any time to one's-self. I have two jobs, and, with such, I have only one day off this week, and, lo and behold, it's my mother's birthday. Have I done something wrong? Have I been doing a crappy job with my work? Why does it feel more like a punishment than it does a congratulation? I can't do much of anything because of gas, because of what I want to do for her birthday, because of working every other day for the entirety of the week, for everything that people want me to do.... It's becoming too much.
End of the world, do your stuff.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Third Entry
Right now, my brain is murdering me, my eyes are slightly glazed (hopefully not icing, honey, or any food-stuff glaze), and I feel like a wreck. Been working this week hard. Gotten in roughly 40 hours in this week, and am still fighting to keep it that way. What's worse is that my hours have been cut, and cut, and cut. Thankfully, though, it's reached a point that it can't be cut any more... To my knowledge. I wish I could just have a regular schedule instead of having two weeks worth of schedules hanging up, and have completely different shifts on each. Fevered dream, I know.
My niece is having a baby boy. This makes the third time I become a great uncle. Quite odd to me, actually. Also, one thing that has been bothering me for quite some time, and I have never addressed it before now, is that I have some sort of animal/human magnetism. Sometimes it works in my favor, like for cats and dogs being hesitant, and myself being a tiny bit persistent, and other times, I get it regardless. For example, I go to family functions with toddlers about, and, at first, they seem quite afraid of me, but, with me being around for a bit, they attach themselves to me like glue. It's not the fact that I don't like kids, it's the fact that I have no idea how to react around kids. No training, no insight, nothing. I feel embarrassed to admit it, but I have had this happen to me quite a bit. Some children, they don't attach, which I understand, but others? I'm a magnet. I have no clue as to why, either.
And now the brain-pain again. Been dealing with a bit of stress with work, stress with beating the mental crap out of myself, and dealing with bills, it's getting to be a bit much again. I had a little bit of help when I was younger, but I don't know anymore. Everything is too expensive, my mind is going to the dump, my body.... Ergh. Anyway, I... I should share a bit of my history....
You see, I am a very emotional person. And by very emotional, I mean that when I hit an animal, big or small, I flip out, screaming and crying. Whether they are alive or not, I haven't a clue, but I still do it. So far, I have hit a deer, a rabbit, a few squirrels, a raccoon, and even a barnyard cat. Each instance, I freaked out. The time I hit the deer, it damaged the front end of my car, but I didn't care that it was. The deer was what I was freaking out about. I had hurt it. I was so shaken up, you would have been convinced I was just introduced to coffee, I was shaking that badly.
And I also have a messed up body. It knows that it's about 25, but it thinks that it's quite a bit younger. Don't ask me why, but it seems to be that way. Probably due to the fact of my birth, myself being 3 weeks past due. Came close to killing both myself and my mom in the process. That's the first time I almost died.
The second, third and fourth were as follows: When I was about 4, or roughly in my single digits before school, I was a little snot-nosed kid; I would run up to my brother, squeeze the hell out of his infected, ingrown toe, and run away, screaming with glee as he writhed in pain. He took me to the local fair, and said that it was time to leave. I was beyond ticked off when we got back to the house. After we did so, I was left, steaming, in his car. I was in the passenger's seat, and was saying how unfair it was that he took me away from the fair. I thought to myself that if I took the vehicle out of park, I would be able to go back to the fair. I did.... Bad idea. It rolled backward. I had no idea what was going on, and sat in my seat. It rolled down the hill, across the street, and into the ditch across the street. It stopped in the ditch, thankfully, and I had no clue what was going on, what I was going to do, and where I was until I got out. Before I got out of the car, it turned out that there were 2 18-wheelers, whom were going opposite directions, passed at the same time right where I was at less than a second before. It didn't faze me when it happened, but looking back on it, I still am scared how careless I was with my life. Third time was with the deer. If my airbag, when I hit the deer, activated, I probably wouldn't of had any idea what to do, and might not of been able to react as well as I did.. I was going the speed limit when I hit it, but I did slam on the brakes just before impact. The deer died, I had a front-end to fix, and things looked horribly expensive. Thankfully, though, my brother was able to help out, taking bits off of another car that my mother had and change them out. That was the third.
The fourth one.. Was where I ran off the side of the road. Admittedly, I was scared when I started sliding. I knew that I was going to do something I'd regret, and, as I slid, I tried to turn the wheels into the skid, but the side of the road happened first. It lead to a drop that scared the hell out of me. Everything about my car was fine after sliding off the road, and even getting back on. I was shaken, due to the fact of being able to have flipped, and possibly crush myself in the car.
Death pokes in to check on me, doesn't it?
My niece is having a baby boy. This makes the third time I become a great uncle. Quite odd to me, actually. Also, one thing that has been bothering me for quite some time, and I have never addressed it before now, is that I have some sort of animal/human magnetism. Sometimes it works in my favor, like for cats and dogs being hesitant, and myself being a tiny bit persistent, and other times, I get it regardless. For example, I go to family functions with toddlers about, and, at first, they seem quite afraid of me, but, with me being around for a bit, they attach themselves to me like glue. It's not the fact that I don't like kids, it's the fact that I have no idea how to react around kids. No training, no insight, nothing. I feel embarrassed to admit it, but I have had this happen to me quite a bit. Some children, they don't attach, which I understand, but others? I'm a magnet. I have no clue as to why, either.
And now the brain-pain again. Been dealing with a bit of stress with work, stress with beating the mental crap out of myself, and dealing with bills, it's getting to be a bit much again. I had a little bit of help when I was younger, but I don't know anymore. Everything is too expensive, my mind is going to the dump, my body.... Ergh. Anyway, I... I should share a bit of my history....
You see, I am a very emotional person. And by very emotional, I mean that when I hit an animal, big or small, I flip out, screaming and crying. Whether they are alive or not, I haven't a clue, but I still do it. So far, I have hit a deer, a rabbit, a few squirrels, a raccoon, and even a barnyard cat. Each instance, I freaked out. The time I hit the deer, it damaged the front end of my car, but I didn't care that it was. The deer was what I was freaking out about. I had hurt it. I was so shaken up, you would have been convinced I was just introduced to coffee, I was shaking that badly.
And I also have a messed up body. It knows that it's about 25, but it thinks that it's quite a bit younger. Don't ask me why, but it seems to be that way. Probably due to the fact of my birth, myself being 3 weeks past due. Came close to killing both myself and my mom in the process. That's the first time I almost died.
The second, third and fourth were as follows: When I was about 4, or roughly in my single digits before school, I was a little snot-nosed kid; I would run up to my brother, squeeze the hell out of his infected, ingrown toe, and run away, screaming with glee as he writhed in pain. He took me to the local fair, and said that it was time to leave. I was beyond ticked off when we got back to the house. After we did so, I was left, steaming, in his car. I was in the passenger's seat, and was saying how unfair it was that he took me away from the fair. I thought to myself that if I took the vehicle out of park, I would be able to go back to the fair. I did.... Bad idea. It rolled backward. I had no idea what was going on, and sat in my seat. It rolled down the hill, across the street, and into the ditch across the street. It stopped in the ditch, thankfully, and I had no clue what was going on, what I was going to do, and where I was until I got out. Before I got out of the car, it turned out that there were 2 18-wheelers, whom were going opposite directions, passed at the same time right where I was at less than a second before. It didn't faze me when it happened, but looking back on it, I still am scared how careless I was with my life. Third time was with the deer. If my airbag, when I hit the deer, activated, I probably wouldn't of had any idea what to do, and might not of been able to react as well as I did.. I was going the speed limit when I hit it, but I did slam on the brakes just before impact. The deer died, I had a front-end to fix, and things looked horribly expensive. Thankfully, though, my brother was able to help out, taking bits off of another car that my mother had and change them out. That was the third.
The fourth one.. Was where I ran off the side of the road. Admittedly, I was scared when I started sliding. I knew that I was going to do something I'd regret, and, as I slid, I tried to turn the wheels into the skid, but the side of the road happened first. It lead to a drop that scared the hell out of me. Everything about my car was fine after sliding off the road, and even getting back on. I was shaken, due to the fact of being able to have flipped, and possibly crush myself in the car.
Death pokes in to check on me, doesn't it?
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Second entry
I know that live is a bitch at times, but it also is what you make of it, whether it be with friends, family, coworkers, and even your pets. People see me in the light of a good kid/guy/son, a hard worker, someone they can rely on, someone dependable. I look at myself, and I see the exact opposite, a liar, a cheat, a hack, a slacker, a lackluster, busted cog whom barely works, a... The list goes on. I look at myself in the mirror, and just want to take a small tub of acid and pour it on my face, just to watch the skin dissolve from my face. I look hideous, I am a freak, a shambling nightmare to strike fear into people's hearts.
My head says that I have no looks, nothing going for me, and my heart is that of a fool's. I can't believe myself, but I have, without a doubt, had had the hots for girls who I barely even knew, had seen once, and I have 'a moment' for a moment, and then I shoot myself down, thinking "Okay, they are probably either married, have a lover, or are lesbian." Either that, or they do something that, by all standards, is idiotic, or come over to me, look me in the eyes and say "Why the hell were you looking at me?!" And those terms are somewhat kind.
My father said I should be a teacher. My body type says a football player. My actions make me a Jack of all Trades, Master of none. My mind, however, thinks that I would be good as a card dealer, and not the kind you find at Texas Hold 'Em Tournaments, either. I play Magic: The Gathering card game quite frequently. My mind thinks up insane combos, and all sorts of synergistic moves that lead to downfalls, and yet not many seem to work out as planned. I have had so many ideas about different cards and whatnot that I have come up with cards, time and again, but nothing has come of it. Friend of mine and I have come up with a set that would be quite interesting for seasoned people to try, but it... It won't see the light of day, because of lacking connections to others, to having a possibility to show our concept off.
And, again, my rational side has taken over. It's not wanting anything to do with that, nothing to do with Magic, just saying that I am living in a fevered dream of a madman's, wanting to think that an idea as silly as that would never catch the interest of Wizards of the Coast.
I... I feel like I am alone, like a boat amid the sea, not sure of where I am, where I want to go, who I will see... I want to know, I want to know why, where, and who I will be at and with. I have been wanting to know for ages, and I still haven't an idea. I feel so lost. Sometimes, I just think up a situation where I am a hero among people, and that girls wish to flock to me... Fairly pathetic. Another thing I think up is that I am dying, which we all are, either internally, or externally, and I give my final words to those who matter much to me. Sometimes I dream that I am diving into lava. Sometimes it's that I got shot in the kidney, and am bleeding out. Sometimes, while just traveling down the road, I have the thought that a ninja is going to jump straight up, throw a sword, and the sword will skewer my chest like a tiny plastic sword to an olive in a martini. My dreams don't help, either.
I had a dream not too long ago where there was this troupe of actors were preforming wild west reenactments; panning for gold, mining some for gold, Indians coming to try and scalp them, Conestoga wagons riding about... Turns out they were all part of Jigsaw's twisted plan in one way or another. There were two people in the wagon, one at the front, and one in the covered part. Anyway, there were, in total, about six people who got out. The one in the covered part of the wagon exploded, a spray of black smoke and blood, but the one in front survived, the miner got shot, dead, the panning guy lived, though took a knife through the mouth, via under his jaw, and a few others I can't remember. I zoomed into the FP vision of the guy with the knife through his mouth, and went into the water. His mouth filled with water, exhaled it as he sank, and blood, as well as bubbles, floated to the surface. It turned out to be clear water, but I couldn't tell if it was salt or fresh water. At any rate, I closed my eyes underwater as I sank, and hit, the bottom, and woke up in my bed. I tried to discuss it with someone, but they didn't give two craps... Not surprising.
Life is what you make of it.... Either by choice, or by incident.
My head says that I have no looks, nothing going for me, and my heart is that of a fool's. I can't believe myself, but I have, without a doubt, had had the hots for girls who I barely even knew, had seen once, and I have 'a moment' for a moment, and then I shoot myself down, thinking "Okay, they are probably either married, have a lover, or are lesbian." Either that, or they do something that, by all standards, is idiotic, or come over to me, look me in the eyes and say "Why the hell were you looking at me?!" And those terms are somewhat kind.
My father said I should be a teacher. My body type says a football player. My actions make me a Jack of all Trades, Master of none. My mind, however, thinks that I would be good as a card dealer, and not the kind you find at Texas Hold 'Em Tournaments, either. I play Magic: The Gathering card game quite frequently. My mind thinks up insane combos, and all sorts of synergistic moves that lead to downfalls, and yet not many seem to work out as planned. I have had so many ideas about different cards and whatnot that I have come up with cards, time and again, but nothing has come of it. Friend of mine and I have come up with a set that would be quite interesting for seasoned people to try, but it... It won't see the light of day, because of lacking connections to others, to having a possibility to show our concept off.
And, again, my rational side has taken over. It's not wanting anything to do with that, nothing to do with Magic, just saying that I am living in a fevered dream of a madman's, wanting to think that an idea as silly as that would never catch the interest of Wizards of the Coast.
I... I feel like I am alone, like a boat amid the sea, not sure of where I am, where I want to go, who I will see... I want to know, I want to know why, where, and who I will be at and with. I have been wanting to know for ages, and I still haven't an idea. I feel so lost. Sometimes, I just think up a situation where I am a hero among people, and that girls wish to flock to me... Fairly pathetic. Another thing I think up is that I am dying, which we all are, either internally, or externally, and I give my final words to those who matter much to me. Sometimes I dream that I am diving into lava. Sometimes it's that I got shot in the kidney, and am bleeding out. Sometimes, while just traveling down the road, I have the thought that a ninja is going to jump straight up, throw a sword, and the sword will skewer my chest like a tiny plastic sword to an olive in a martini. My dreams don't help, either.
I had a dream not too long ago where there was this troupe of actors were preforming wild west reenactments; panning for gold, mining some for gold, Indians coming to try and scalp them, Conestoga wagons riding about... Turns out they were all part of Jigsaw's twisted plan in one way or another. There were two people in the wagon, one at the front, and one in the covered part. Anyway, there were, in total, about six people who got out. The one in the covered part of the wagon exploded, a spray of black smoke and blood, but the one in front survived, the miner got shot, dead, the panning guy lived, though took a knife through the mouth, via under his jaw, and a few others I can't remember. I zoomed into the FP vision of the guy with the knife through his mouth, and went into the water. His mouth filled with water, exhaled it as he sank, and blood, as well as bubbles, floated to the surface. It turned out to be clear water, but I couldn't tell if it was salt or fresh water. At any rate, I closed my eyes underwater as I sank, and hit, the bottom, and woke up in my bed. I tried to discuss it with someone, but they didn't give two craps... Not surprising.
Life is what you make of it.... Either by choice, or by incident.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
First entry
Here we start. So many words wish to gush out at once from my mind: words of healing, words of help, words of warning, words of promise, but this is all for the fact that I wish to aid my fellow being. This blog isn't for anyone to demonize me, to berate me, to demoralize me. This blog is myself, uncut and unfiltered. As I am typing this out, I am sitting in nothing more than boxers and a tee-shirt and a blanket over my legs. Anyway, here we go.
Ever since I was young, I have struggled with depression. Forms of which involved being berated by my parents. I know that they only wanted the best from, and for, me, but I felt like I wasn't me. Constant comparison to my brothers seemed to be a daily event, saying how they were successful, or how I should do what I love for a living and not get stuck with a bad hand. Truth is, with being constantly compared, and barely being able to get a word in, edge-wise, I bottled it up, and eventually forgot about it. I don't blame my parents for any of the depression I contend with today, but I blame myself. Though, with my self-esteem being shot, I can't see myself as more than a pathetic, fat, sheltered idiot whom has no prospects of being able to make a name for himself. Every bit of joy must be choked down with a lump of mental whipping, telling myself "You really think that you, of all people, would be able to do that?", and that, more often than not, I am capable of doing, or saying "You are really a moron if you think that that girl even would look at you in that light?" or "You are a guy with two jobs, who sucks at them both, have no prospects of making anything of yourself, and live at your friend's parent's house. How spectacular!" The bitter words slicing deep into my skin. Being the youngest of 3 has benefits, as well as it's share of hang-ups. I seem to focus more on the latter. I have been hurting for so long, I haven't a clue how it feels like aside. The pain feels like normality, and the second something good happens, the bitterness and "the voice of reality" steps in and says "you stupid kid, that won't ever work." Time and again, I feel the pain deep inside, tearing away at my spirit. It feels like my fortitude has been put a through a wood chipper, and just begs for the end., but the end never comes. Days that I have to relax are being spent in fear of the following day's sickening flavor of life. The days of care-free fun are kept in my memories like black and white images, being slightly corrupted with each day that passes with the profane, the sick, the demented, and the sadistic images that have been given to us by so many others. In time, my brain will completely forget the kid I was, making the memories disappear for new information to be let in. Forget all the days I had that were fun, exciting, and seemingly law-free.
In short,, Life is a bitch, and then you die.
Ever since I was young, I have struggled with depression. Forms of which involved being berated by my parents. I know that they only wanted the best from, and for, me, but I felt like I wasn't me. Constant comparison to my brothers seemed to be a daily event, saying how they were successful, or how I should do what I love for a living and not get stuck with a bad hand. Truth is, with being constantly compared, and barely being able to get a word in, edge-wise, I bottled it up, and eventually forgot about it. I don't blame my parents for any of the depression I contend with today, but I blame myself. Though, with my self-esteem being shot, I can't see myself as more than a pathetic, fat, sheltered idiot whom has no prospects of being able to make a name for himself. Every bit of joy must be choked down with a lump of mental whipping, telling myself "You really think that you, of all people, would be able to do that?", and that, more often than not, I am capable of doing, or saying "You are really a moron if you think that that girl even would look at you in that light?" or "You are a guy with two jobs, who sucks at them both, have no prospects of making anything of yourself, and live at your friend's parent's house. How spectacular!" The bitter words slicing deep into my skin. Being the youngest of 3 has benefits, as well as it's share of hang-ups. I seem to focus more on the latter. I have been hurting for so long, I haven't a clue how it feels like aside. The pain feels like normality, and the second something good happens, the bitterness and "the voice of reality" steps in and says "you stupid kid, that won't ever work." Time and again, I feel the pain deep inside, tearing away at my spirit. It feels like my fortitude has been put a through a wood chipper, and just begs for the end., but the end never comes. Days that I have to relax are being spent in fear of the following day's sickening flavor of life. The days of care-free fun are kept in my memories like black and white images, being slightly corrupted with each day that passes with the profane, the sick, the demented, and the sadistic images that have been given to us by so many others. In time, my brain will completely forget the kid I was, making the memories disappear for new information to be let in. Forget all the days I had that were fun, exciting, and seemingly law-free.
In short,, Life is a bitch, and then you die.
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