i'm so vague. i probably think this song is about me.
i feel terrible. i took an online depression test given by WEBmd and about the only depression related question that i didn't answer yes to was the last one that went something like:
i think about killing myself.
the last time i thought about killing myself was probably somewhere in junior high or maybe even perhaps after breaking up with andrew. i mean as far as thinking about the process. but of course there are times when the afterthought comes wafting over on some ghostly internal loudspeaker:
~~don't you think maybe you'd be better off..? or they'd be better off..? everything would just be better if you were dead and gone~~
of course i know that sounds very textbook. especially because the use of the word everything seems to be just that much more heavy and important than actually having to be specific. everything is so all encompassing (yea. duh!) i mean, not only does it lend a certain weight to the things that've got a body down but it gives it a universality and it communicates something that you know in your gut places you in a not so new, not so lonely --albeit dark-- space where you know others have been. others have passed through. you know that in the careful choice of those last words, you know that what you're saying isn't new and that you aren't the first to think this way and that IN THAT at least you are not alone.
and you know it isn't true what they say about keeping busy. it isn't true that idle hands are the devils playground. it isn't true that you can turn it off. i lie when i sit there and i sit there and i tell you its ok.
i'm so fucking emotional right now it just doesn't make sense. so irrational. so fucking weak. so angry. all at nothing and all for nothing and maybe i just need to be on my own. take a few months. disappear.
allhallows eve is very soon upon us again. for one night, the portal swings open and the homes in ourselves go unguarded.
in the air: a gun shot sound from somewhere nearby. i was startled. and now its debussy's clair de lune played on a harp, played in repeat.
thoughts: i can feel this collar and it pinches. i can feel this collar and it dents as it rests on my very bones. did i answer that question wrong? i don't want anyone to listen to me if its all the same. listening only reminds me of myself; reminds me that none of it is real at all anyway. --i just want to go.
1:11 p.m. - 2003-10-29
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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