my vision is distorted by my sleazy mind

skunk anansie - awesome band.

a pang of regret and heartbreak assaults me when i listen to songs with bitter-sweet memories attached to them. entwined, really. it's magical how music becomes a part of your past, and comes to represent a certain time, a certain hardship, or joy, or exultation. success, failure, bliss, heartache.

I suppose to some extent, the woulda/coulda/ shoulda's are idolised and deified in the mind. the bads are forgotten, and the goods are put on a pedestal, mourned, grieved for, deeply missed. and, regret sets in.

is this reasonable?

okay, so i'm not making a whole lot of sense.

i will heal. eventually.

looking down from above

I have nothing to offer.

I am doomed to a life of solitude.

I am doomed.

I am cursed.

I am alone.

Always alone.

On another note, I made an international telephone call and it actually worked! Cost an arm and a leg, and he couldn't hear me. but, worth it anyway.

there is never someone to talk to, when one is most lonely, and most in need.

as koRn once said:

"sometimes i cannot take this place,
sometimes it's my life i can't face"

"something takes a part of me;
you and i were meant to be;
a cheap f*** for me to lay;
something takes a part of me."

or, something more or less to that effect.

nothing to offer.

there is no script.

there is no life.

there is no energy, no conscience.

no cognisance.

lack of everything. lack of nothing. lacking.

never enough

a darker shade of noir

hi there

to whom it may concern, or not.

i will be absent from cyberspace for the next couple days. I am receiving the results of a rather important test on Friday, and i will be writing part 1 of 2 of a rather important test on Saturday.

Do what you must to wish me luck and logical thinking.

I will be buried nose-deep in my books for the next couple days in preparation for the day long exam on Saturday. **sigh**

It never ends. But, progress is always a motivational factor.

Living eulogy

I believe it was mr jim morrison who said it best: this is the end.

I find myself in familiar territory.

How can I love when I do not love myself? Who would love me, if I find myself repulsive?

What’s the point to it all in the end, if nothing I do is good enough, or of significance in any way?

What have I learned?

Happiness is measured by the number of friends you have, not money or prestige, or body shape, or any other material nonsense, despite what the ad companies tell you.

No matter how hard I try, the fact of the matter is, I will never be good enough. I do not have the talent. I lack the willpower. I am tired of trying to be what I’m not.

Turns out, living for others did not work out for me. Living by the choices of others has led me into a trap of humiliation and despair. Misery and angst.

To stand up for myself, for the first time, I will make a choice.

I choose death.

Time to trip the light fantastic. Time to plummet off the ole mortal coil. Time to take my mediocrity to another level.

Here’s to coming back as a playmate.

Thanks to all of those who read my thoughts and commented. Much appreciated. [that means you, morb]. And the rest of you, you’re too late, show’s over.

Do not weep for me, I have shed tears enough in my existence. But, Rejoice in my final act of taking possession of my life.

This is the end.

could it be that i dont have what it takes?

days merge with weeks, which in turn, mesh with months. on the upside, soon i will be done with all this. on the other hand, life is passing me by. yesterday; i was still in highschool - trudging the halls, enduring the taunts and tiresome repetition of tedium. today; i suffer through my twenties, working every second im awake, and studying when half awake. [who needs sleep anyway.] tomorrow; il be dead.

frigid air assaults my skin when i step into winter, outside. its is cold. my heart has frozen. i lack warmth. there is no love in my heart for this life i lead. there is no passion for the tasks i perform. there is nothing but frustration, pain. and the bitter cold.

i imagine the scarf around my neck to be the loving caress of a hangman's noose. soon, the world around me will flicker and fade. soon, the ground will drop away from beneath my feet. soon there will be nothing but absolute silence. golden, in its tranquillity - i will suspend the suffering into eternity.

time remains elusive. space, a delusion. my downward spiral continues into infinity. round and round it goes - where it stops, nobody knows.

and i am yet to experience happiness.

hoPes and dreAms are moRTal enemieS

i am tormented.

actively i detest this tragic existence. my recurring theme. all the could-have-beens assault my wasted mind. they rot inside me. tyrannical in their approach. beating me senseless. daily.

what could have been:

dear me

am i a writer? could i have been? does the eloquence flow from my fingertips with fickle, yet furtive abandon? was there a future there for me? a career? reporting on the wasteful repeated futility of the exciting lives of others? writing of another drowning, another murder, more large-scale madness? would i have been happy?

am i a painter? would i have excelled at drawing? have my passions been misspent? were there opportunities for me? in animation? in cartooning? do i have good ideas? are my talents trampled in my myopic state? blind to the endless possibilities? would it have fulfilled me?

am i a care giver? was medicine the way to go? would i have relished in walking the corridors of healthcare, dark yet rewarding? would i have come home with a feeling of serene accomplishment? would the crisp white coat have covered my insecurities half as well as i would have needed it to? would i have been complete?

i chose my current path. and,with tortured tenacity, in that decision, i can blame or praise only myself. i cannot know how different my life, for the better or worse, would have been, had i chosen differently. dam elusive wisdom.

do not cry for me. for, i love you. more than you could know.

im just a sad song. disregard me when the melody fades and the last note dies away.

the floODgates burst; a soggy surgE

i have disappeared.

i live my life – this un-life – alone.

forever. it’s only as long as i will lead you to believe. and an eternity in pain and anguish leads to nowhere. certainly.

you can’t hurt me anymore.

ive reached the precipice. no returning now. my grave lunges at me. your feeble attempt at sacrificing / saving yourself. i am delinquent. my disarrayed thoughts flutter helplessly to incinerate instantly on the furnace of my hopeless future.

my future is a mystery, shrouded in my deepest darkest fears.

i may not be a perfect person. but, i have feelings. simple-minded. bury me. a watery grave for me. i drown in my own self-pity. there is no empathy for one such as i. ample opportunity for agonising gasping.

i plod plotless into melancholy.

join me.

i dont wanna do this alone anymore. i dont wanna be alone anymore. pity me. i reach out. i seek. i am utterly alone.

please cherish me?