| | Current Music: | tv in the background | | Time: | 09:56 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/amused.gif) amused |
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| This is how anger is built up for murder. When I become an uncontrollable killer, I am blaming it on you, just so you know. Really now, the maniacal laughter while proclaiming hate and the ease of your death... I don't even know where to go with all this hate anymore.
There is not one single thing I can stand about you, and it just gets worse. You are a horrible human being who does not know how to get anything out of me, for one. You are so easy to manipulate (cause I'm a manipulative bitch, right?), and you're right, the only time I'm ever nice to you is when I need something, and it works. You yell at me for being manipulative, and yet you still give me whatever I need if I pretend to be nice long enough. I have never listened to a word you've said to me, and you just keep talking like I'm listening and interested. And I just hate you.
You are nothing but empty threats, did you know that? No, you will not get rid of my cat, you will not keep me from using the computer, you will not stop me from leaving the house, you did not stop me from shaving my head, you never brought me back to church, you will never take all my knives, my dear, you will never stop me from "being on drugs," you will never be able to get me to do anything you want. I mean, seriously, right now, I'm not allowed on the computer. I'm not allowed to be wearing my boyfriend's clothes, and I sure am. I'm not allowed to do anything until my room is clean, and I haven't been home in days. God you're such a bad parent. You're so awful at discipline. The last time you tried to yell at me, I laughed at you. I can't even pretend to take you seriously anymore you're so awful.
I just can't get over how much of a bad parent you are. Wow. | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment   |
| Anathema - "They Die"
All tears restrained for years
Their grief is confined
Which destroys my mind
An ode to their plight is this dirge
Some yearn for lugubrious silence
Serenity in the image of coffins
Shall life renew these bodies of a truth?
All death will be annul, all tears assuage?
Fill the void veins of life, again with youth
And wash with an immortal water, age
They die ... They will always die | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | "A first sign of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die." - Franz Kafka | | comments: Leave a comment |
| So I found the anthem of my life in a song I had previously been acquainted with, but never totally understood. I guess Junior year will do that to you.
Jawbreaker - "Accident Prone"
What's the furthest place from here?
It hasn't been my day for a couple years.
What's a couple more?
And if I go, don't forget the one good thing I almost did.
I learned your name without words.
I used my eyes, not my hands.
What's the closest you can come to an almost total wreck and still walk away,
All limbs intact?
And when I go, you'll be there crying out, begging me.
I won't hear.
I'll just go fast into this night on broken legs.
A near miss or a close call?
I keep a room at the hospital.
I scratch my accidents into the wall.
I couldn't wait to breathe your breath.
I cut in line,
I bled to death.
I got to you, there was nothing left.
What's the meanest you can be to the one you claim to love
And still smile to your new found friends?
In the same confusing breath,
You pull away and draw me in.
I wanted you. You wanted more.
I built this life and now it's mine. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Mom, I think it would be best for the both of us if we stopped trying to connect on anything more than surface value. Let's face it. You don't like me. You don't like anything about me. I am not what you wanted your child to be, and you resent me for it. I'm not bitter about it, and I'm not going to hate you forever, but I just want you to be honest to me. I want you to stop trying to mold me into what your life couldn't accomplish. I'm sorry I don't do good in school anymore, and I'm sorry I don't keep my room clean, and I'm sorry I won't learn how to cook well. But it's not me, mom, it's not me. I am not going to be your prize child who has awards you can show people, and great report cards you can brag about.
I am not anything you can comprehend, mom, and we are too different to even be considered related. It's funny, though; when I came home last night and you decided that it would be prime time to tell me all the faults in my life (you thought I'd be stoned, right), and I had just been having a great talk with Linda about how much I dislike you, and about how you are invading my life. Earlier in the day, I was writing a paper for Doc. E. (which you will never know I did, nor will you ever know how much outside stuff I do because you have no concern for things that do not directly benefit you) about what is wrong with society, and in your speech to me, you encompassed all of it. You are selfishness. You are ignorance. You are conformity. You are insincerity.
Ultimately, you are a narcissist, mom. Have you stopped to actually think about who you are? Have you ever made a move in your life that did something to benefity anyone other than yourself? Seriously, think about it; whenever you pick a fight with me, and we get to the point where I tell you that you should just admit to not loving me at all, and that you are insincere, you start breaking down into your meaningless tears. I've never seen you cry, mom, I've only seen you pretend. You tell me how much you do for me, and how I don't appreciate anything you do for me. You are so good to me, you'd do anything for me, and I am just too blinded by marijuana and irresponsibility to ever see it.
It's as though my appreciation and realization of your greatness would somehow fill that void in our relationship, and I could love you. If only I realized how great you are.
And you do it all the time. I can't even fight with you anymore, because you turn it around to make you the one that is hurt, and that I should drop everything I am doing to realize how horrible I am to overlook how much you do for me.
And what _do_ you do for me? You never do anything for me unless you can get something out of it. You won't buy me clothes unless they are the clothes you like, the clothes that will make a real girl just like you were. You won't buy me food I'll eat, you won't support my being vegetarian, you won't fill my prescriptions, you won't let be myself, you won't take me to doctors when I need to be taken... Fucking hell, mom, you flat refused to take me to a psychologist for three months, until I finally just gave up. The school tried to intervene. My other doctors tried to intervene. And you wouldn't do it, until I fixed my anemia. No more doctors until my physical health improved.
My God, how do you deny someone that help? How does it make sense that in my state of mental health, I was going to have any sort of motivation to make myself better? I had no intention to live at all, and I never took any medication because I _wanted_ to die. My anemia was a blessing for me, because it would slowly weaken me until I die, which was what my mind was doing to me at the time anyway.
That, mom, is what I will never forgive you for. I am still in disbelief that you could even have the heart to do that.
"You better change your attitude, too, Becky. You better stop talking back right now."
She didn't say anything. What the hell is wrong with you? What the FUCK is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to us? WHY? Fuck, mom, you are screaming at me from across the room, and I don't answer, so you start yelling at Becky? You complain about her attitude problem to suggest behind my back that I am a selfish bitch for not answering you. I have nothing nice to say to you mom, so I am not going to say anything at all. I don't start screaming matches with you anymore, I just stand there and take it, and you can't stop screaming. You can never find the end of all my faults, and you will continuously complain at me until I am you.
My worst fear is that I still subconciously retain part of your psyche. I never stop torturing myself over how about I could have said something differtly, because that way it would have been less selfish, and less like you.
Why can't you accept me for what I am?
Why can't you think? Why are you always pretending? I tell you something, and before you even have a chance to rationally think it over, you scream and deny it. Maybe it's time for you stop screaming and jumping to conclusions, and to think. Maybe that would draw you out of the teenage phase that you are still stuck in, and you could be someone. You could be a real person, if you would just think. Right now there is not a thought within your head. You are the most vacant person I know, and all you know how to do is scream and be angry.
Anger stems from a lack of understanding, mom. Maybe if you would try to understand that you cannot mold someone into you, you wouldn't be so angry with me constantly. I don't even know what I do to you anymore. I am myself, and you find faults in this. I don't pick fights with you, I don't yell at you, I don't even yell at you when you're yelling at me. You just scream over me when I am calm and trying to be rational. And you won't listen. You don't see anyone but yourself, and I don't think there is anything I can do to make you think and change your mind, because you won't listen. You'll never listen.
If anyone so much as disagrees with you, they have an attitude problem. There is something wrong with them, because you do not know how to accept blame. When you scream at me telling me that you are a fuck up, you are not accepting blame. You are digging for sympathy, and you want me to admit that I am wrong, and you're not a fuck up. You want to me cry and scream, "NO! Mom, don't say that! There's nothing wrong with you, it's me." I am so sorry for you. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Death Cab | | Time: | 07:35 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/high.gif) stoned |
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| Last night I dreamt of Boston and it was the best sleep I've ever had.
Linda, Kevin, Justine, Tana, and I were...well, not driving, not flying... not sure what to call it. We were pretty much standing still and the world was blurring by us and stopping when we willed it to. First place we ended up was a stormy old farm town, at an intersection with broken stoplights on strings hanging from seemingly nowhere. There were two sqaure, wooden buildings at two of the corners, across from each other, and we went into the one on the left. I don't remember what happened inside, except that it was cramped surrealisticly small, like people Tetris, and we did some sort of mind altering drug in there.
Next place we were at was this old railroad yard, I guess it was. It was extremely bright and beautiful day, and everything had a yellow glow that it made look like the whole world was smiling and golden. This is the first time the coloring in my dreams has ever been so.
Anyway, there was a brown dirt road behind us, and to three of our sides was forest, but more cartoon forest than anything, complete with 2 dimensional animals drawn in the trees. It was like a clearing, everything was very grassy, and living, and there were no bugs. only birds. There was a long white building to our left, and broken tracks in front of us. There were stacks of things piled here and there, all wood and very natural looking. Everyone but me was climbing them, Tana was on the tallest one. The stacks seemed to stretch eternally upwards for me, and got taller when I looked at the top, again like how things become huge and exxagerated in cartoons to denote a character's fear of heights. The people on them already are talking, but I can't hear them, except Tana who is laughing hysterically and gesturing for me to join her. Justine climbs the building by her stack, and Kevin and Linda start waltzing away, also laughing hysterically.
Later on, it gets darker and stormier, like the town before. Parts of the forest are no longer there, and the ground becomes more dirt than grass. Justine and Kevin are playing on top of the building, Linda and Tana have dissappeared. Justine tells me to go into the forest for something, I don't remember what. I go, but I can't talk to her anymore because the wind is too loud to talk over.
Long blank.
Next thing I remember is being in a sunny area again, but it's a forest, and looks like the path by the lake like at Plum Creek. We're walking and laughing our way down the path, when we come to this clearing with houses, and to the north lies a small ring of woods and a huge, beautiful city after it. There is a highway sign (out of place..) right by the edge of the clearing, and it says "Boston." We push back some branches, and like a cliche discovery, there is housing development around this pond in the middle, a a paved road going next to it that, goes under the houses. It's very difficult to explain this part about the road, mostly because it is impossible and a paradox. The lake is two things at once; it is a cliff near one end, with the things at the bottom being hundred's of feet away, with a paved road going under the housing, and it is a beach at another point, with a dirt road running right up next to it, but this is all happening in the exact same spot.
When we walk into the clearing, it smells exactly like Little Fish Lake in Michigan, and looks like, right down to the forest around the lake, and the dirt paths running on one side of the hill.
We go into this house, and it is a brand new house, but small. It looks just like those horrible giant suburb houses, except it is shaped differently, and has vines growing over it, and it's very small inside, like a cottage. There is a set of stairs with no walls or railing even close to it, and two doors off a square landing at the top, one of which doesn't really have a room behind it, but does at the same. Impossibility again. It's all lavender inside, and there's this little boy inside whose mom and older brother are gone. One of us for some reason knows that we are supposed to watch it until the mom comes back for some reason, so we do. I go on my own at this point, and go to an area that looks like the garage, except it's painted, carpeted, and is obviously a toyroom. There's a door to the outside, kind of like Yosrah's garage set up.
The mother comes in, and she is wearing a suit. She says some things, and the next thing I remember is being outside with all the rest of my group, talking. The same thing happenes as in inside, and I seperate the same way to look over the lake and talk to someone standing behind me. It's not one of the people in my group, nor anyone I've ever known. It has that feel of that one guy I'd never met before who was in all my dreams as sort of an unspeaking support/guide. Never is really seen, but his presence can be felt and seen with the mind rather than the eyes. I talk to him/her for a while about my childhood and how much this reminds me of Michigan. He starts to turn away and leave just as a truck goes under the housing, but it's too far away to hear or see or feel. It just sort of dissapears under us rather than going anyway. I turn around and Eric is walking up to me, wearing his green 1up shirt, waving and smiling that Eric way. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Gustav Mahler - "Death in Venice" | | Time: | 06:51 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/bored.gif) bored |
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| "Church, of Course"
And then the mocking remark
was not true, but in fact the contrary
ever bite?
I remembered beyond the look on your face
Catholic upbringing crowded my mind and struck me
It is afraid of nothing
(like multidimensional chess)
wishing you need philosophers...
numb, lonely, frozen, scared,
expressing affection:
from me, only sensations.
"Why are you something momentarily?"
she would answer, "Theodosia, the heaven you create no one can fight."
"and even with your habit,
soul making had emptied their wails
not seas to drown in."
II
I, wretch, have done something wrong.
We turned away;
no different than frogs.
nothing adds up
when
emotions affected
are distributed like
my freedom.
these were not devotional duty,
but merely feeling well today.
It's sunday? I feel guilty.
men die every day
(never while were are in churches.)
I answered, "for company,
I was shaking."
never a mention of that it is death to be sure.
And at last she said,
"We know each other." | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Weezer | | Subject: | Parralelism | | Time: | 03:32 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/drained.gif) drained |
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| There is a particular loneliness about baking cookies at 3:00 AM that I think nothing else has.
It's that cd that has repeated four times because you don't have any others, but you can't bear the silence, with the occasional dripping of the water thing in the fridge, or the stove turning the gas back on to get back up to 375. It's when everything starts to taste like flour, not only because it is all over your kitchen and you accidentally dropped your teabag in a pile of it on the table, but you are so tired, and you have been baking for three long hours, that you don't care to work harder to taste anything else. It's when you have to turn a light on in the next room so you can pretend someone else is awake with you. It's when the whole time you are sweating because you are afraid someone might get food poisoning from your slightly under-cooked second batch, but you surely can't be held too responsible, because not only is it 2 AM, but this is the first time you've ever baked anything...alone anyway.
It's when your cat comes screaming down the stairs because she smells food, and her dish is empty, and continues to scream until you drop everything you're doing, clean up and feed her, because she won't eat ANY of her food if there is the smallest bit of raw cookie dough in it. It's when she licks up some of the flour you dropped and protests loudly until you give her some water to wash out the taste. It's when you realize that this could be your kid someday.
It's when every time you rub flour on your hands so the cookies don't stick, you smell your childhood, and you remember standing on the chair you're now sitting on trying to make the perfect cookie for mom. It's when you realize how old you've gotten, and how very far away you are from that moment. It's when you realize that you will never see that moment again, and tears start to well up because you are afraid to grow up, and you are afraid to be seventeen, and you're afraid to be on your own, and you're afraid to be alone, baking cookies at 3 AM.
---
It's almost as if I can predict my own Hell, when perhaps sometime in the distant future I will be doing this again, but in a different house, and they won't be "flying w" cookies, or inverted pentagrams for Mary. I won't have a Speech car wash to wake up for in five hours, and I certainly won't have a Thespian Induction that night.
I'll be a middle aged no one, who threw their life away for a "family," and lost their identity thus.
I think the problem with modern families, is that they have the wrong definition. You can't build or make a family. To be functional, they happen, like friendships, and they should be a cohesive group that functions as one. There should be no force. When did force start playing a role in daily life? I never understood why the important part of a family was that you can never leave. You have to be a part of them, even if you don't fit. I suppose everyone comes to love their families by default, but can't one do that with anyone they are forced to live with for eight-teen years? Families should be formed over time with those you grow closest to out of choice. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Weezer - Living Without You | | Subject: | Fuck Q101 | | Time: | 04:42 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/devious.gif) evil |
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| To Q101 and all of it's employees, supporters, and associates:
FUCK YOU! Fuck you in the EAR!
Rot in Hell, you sick bastards. I hate you and your fucking corporation more than will ever be expressable. You ruined my life, you ruined my happy streak, and you are all nothing but capitalist PIGS! I have been waiting for THREE long years to see Weezer again, and the day I found out they were coming to Chicago tonight brough my hopes up higher than I get in unincorporated Crete. I knew what day the tickets would be onsale, but I checked ticketmaster at least twice a day anyway, in case of any special exceptions. The day they went on sale, I checked at fucking school at 9:30 AM only to find out I was 30 minutes early for the sale. I came home from school and checked again, and, turns out, they're up for sale to the general public the next day. Must be a presale.
But who in this city does pre sales? Oh, it just HAD to be Q101. Nobody cheats and steals like fucking Q101. I saw the sidebar for it, and rushed through the 101 Club sign up so I could get the special password that allows me to look for tickets. My heart bursting with joy, now that I'd finally figured out how to get those fucking tickets I have wanted and waited for for three years, I typed in that 101 Club password on ticketmaster, selected how many tickets I wanted, and checked my choice for seating.
None available. They surely couldn't be sold out, could they? I tried again and again, trying every possible combination of tickets and seating, and nothing, I get nothing. I get nothing for days straight, while I am living in my world of denial. Maybe they are waiting to release more. They will always have more, right? Weezer can't be that popular, I bought my tickets the day before three years ago...
Several days later Kevin told me that he heard they were sold out. I refused to believe it and kept trying for tickets.
Funny thing about ticketmaster, they never tell you when a show is sold out. They just say they can't find any seats, and maybe you should try back later.
A few more days pass, and I read that the show is sold out. It sold out the day of the presale. How could that possibly be? No one puts up all the tickets in a pre sale.
Unless they are Q101. Unless they are dirty enough bastards to put the whole Aragon Ballroom up for sale to 101 Club members only, and then allow the show to sell out in two hours. The tickets never even made it to the general public.
Q101, you are all tools. I hate all of you with a deep passion coming from the depths of the soul I would have, if I had one. I cannot believe you all are so poor with marketing skills that you would be stupid enough to put a whole venue on a pre sale.
And the worst part, the pre sale was never authorized by Weezer. Karl Koch never knew until fans starting complaining. If you fucking cunts are low enough to work behind Karl's back, I hope you all die a thousand painful deaths, and I hope in at least one them you are all trampled to death by a mob of angry fans. And then stabbed. And a death appropriate for each fan left out of this show who hates you all with a passion such as I.
So my point is, Q101 and everyone who is associated with, either by listening or employment can go fuck themselves. I hate you all. I hate anyone who would support that bullshit, and I think this is the day when Katie turns against the radio.
Yes, this is the day. Fuck corporations, and especially Q101. I will be spiting you for the rest of my life, and I will NEVER listen to you and anything stemming from you ever again. I will tell my friends to never listen to you, and they will tell their friends. May your downfall be soon, and your pain be excruiating.
You don't just deny Katie her Weezer. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Weezer - El Scorcho | | Time: | 12:11 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/cheerful.gif) cheerful |
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OMG!
I made the Weezer Street Team!! My life has been made worth living for another couple months! Ah, purpose, what my life so desperately needed...
 | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Blind Melon | | Subject: | Tea For Two | | Time: | 02:13 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/scared.gif) distressed |
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| Blind Melon - "No Rain"
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane
I just want some one to say to me
I'll always be there when you wake
Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today
So stay with me and I'll have it made
And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away, but it's a great escape
escape......escape......escape......
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
ya don't like my point of view
ya think I'm insane
Its not sane......it's not sane. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| I hate you, mom. I hate you as much as I hate society, as much as I hate everything that I am constantly ranting and raving about. I hate the fact that you will never have faith in me. I hate the fact that you guilt me into blood and tears. I hate the fact that whenever I fight with you, you come out as a martyr, and I am that kid that just won't ever listen.
I hate the fact that you take advantage of my nonexistent self esteem. I hate when you lie to me all the time because you don't know how to feel anything but fake sincerity. I hate when you try to reassure me, because there's always a catch. There's always a "but" and there's always something that is still wrong with me. I hate when you point out all the nice things you do for me, and how I am unappreciative. I hate how I will never be good enough for you. I will always have to live up to some goal that you have set for me, that is always out of my reach. I hate how you favoritize Becky, and I hate her for being so fucking perfect. I hate her for outdoing everything that I've done, and I hate her for taking my place in all things that I have accomplished.
My tears taste like blood.
I hate dad for never being there, I hate him for ignoring me, I hate him for being an outsider. I hate dad for never being concerned, I hate dad for only ever talking to me when he has to yell at me to back me up. I hate dad for being a tool, and I hate him for unconditionally taking your side without ever listening to me. I hate him for never hearing me, and I hate him for never caring.
I hate you mom for being the cause of all my pain. I hate you for trying to change me, I hate you for trying to mold me into what you weren't. I hate you for blaming me for all your problems. I hate you for blaming me for killing you. I hate for all those times you threatened to leave us when I was little. I hate you for locking your door and crying and screaming at me when I asked you to stay. I hate you for all the nightmares I had, and I hate you for all the times when I was put last. I hate you for ignoring me for FIVE years, five long years, and then ignoring me for another once your mom was dying. I hate you for making me feel like it's always been my fault. I hate you for making me stay in school, I hate you for taking away my knives, I hate you for pitying me and never really caring, I hate your insincerity, I hate your fucking smile on your fucking fake face. I hate how you whine until you get your way. I hate how you threaten me with the few things in life I actually love.
I hate you for trying to sympathize with me for Ross. I hate you for trying to talk to me, I hate you for pretending to understand, I hate you for talking to me when I tell you to leave me the fuck alone, I hate you for pretending to be concerned, I hate you because YOU CANNOT HEAR ME just like everyone else in this fucking place
I HATE you because you never will hear me, and no one else ever will no matter how hard they try to convince me. I hate you for trying to make my problem tangible. I hate you for blaming it on drugs. I hate you for never trusting me, and I hate you for trying to make me go to the fucking hospital because you think I'm crazy. I hate you for thinking that my knives are for other people, I hate you for thinking I'm homicidal, and I hate you for being relieved when I said they only for cutting myself. I hate you for only being concerned with how I make everyone else feel. I hate you for never actually caring about me, but how my disposition is going to affect everyone else. I hate how I am always the lowest priority. I hate how you always bring your own fucking problems into my life, and then try to make YOU look like the one who's in pain. I hate you for always making it seem like I should be feeling sorry for you, and straightening my life out, when you damn well know what just happened. I hate you for scoffing when I said I don't like men, I hate you for judging me, I hate you for trying change me in that respect, and I hate you for trying so fucking hard to get me to be a girly bitch. I hate you for wanting me to be like everyone else, and I hate you for encouraging conformity. I hate you for encouraging sex appeal, I hate you for being so fucking gung-ho for the average american housewife
I AM NOT A HOUSE WIFE.
I WILL NEVER BE A HOUSE WIFE.
I will never be like you, I will never want the american dream, I will never want a husband, I will never want kids, I will never want a family, I will never settle down, I will never live in suburbia, I will never live in a planned community, let alone this hellhole that boasts about being the "first planned G.I. community!" I will never be rich, I will never have a job where I work for money. I will never commit my life to capital, I will never try to change society for the "better," I will never stay in this place for college, no matter how you try to convince me otherwise. I would rather pay my own way through community college than have any attachments to you, so long as I am in Boston and without any contact with you.
I will never be that pretty blond face you so desperately wanted, I will never be a stupid girl who lets boys do what they please, I will never be dependent on anyone, let alone a man, I will never play stupid so boys like me, I will never play down my intellect, nor will I ever play it up, do you know why?
Because I am what I am and nothing more, and you cannot change that no matter what you do, you conceited selfish bitch.
I hate you so fucking much, I want to leave this house and never come back, I want to kill myself so I don't have to be your problem anymore, or at least not be told that I'm your problem.
I hate how I am always a problem. I am always something that has to be dealt with or has to be taken care of. I am not even a human being to you anymore, I am a siphon on your wallet. If it wasn't for me, you could have redone the kitchen sooner because you wouldn't be paying for doctor's appointments. Although you still refuse to take me to a psychologist, even after you came into school and have talked to teachers, staff, and doctors who recommend it. And considering you won't fill my prescriptions. Sorry I cost so much. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't have to pay for the addition on the house, because we wouldn't have needed one. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have to pay for Lola, and I know you hate me for bringing her into the house, because she's just like me--nothing but a problem. If it wasn't for me, you'd be living in Frankfurt with all the other picket fence suburban white moms, and you could send to me a school you like.
Maybe I will take you up on that offer and go to H-F next year. I'll be farther away from this place at the least. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | silence | | Time: | 09:58 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/rejected.gif) rejected |
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| Okay, right, if you "loved me more than anything else in the world" you wouldn't be so angry with me constantly that we had to end it. Your apologies make me sick. Your sugar coating makes me sick. You're outraged, I can tell, no need to hide it and just throw me bs about how much you love me, because I'm not fucking stupid.
Yeah, I'm a fucked up mess, thank you for reinforcing that. Thank you for proving everything that is wrong with me, thank you for making me a living example of why I cannot function in normal society with normal people. Thank you for proving to me that I am stubborn and I don't listen, and I can't thank you enough for exposing every negative quality about me. Thank you for reinforcing all the shame I felt all of my life, thank you for making me hate myself, and thank you for making me miserable with guilt.
I'm sorry I was too intense for you, I guess I got put in my place. I'm sorry you never understood me, and I'm sorry you never took the time to listen to me. It really was always about you, wasn't it? It was always about how upset I made you, or how upset you got because I was upset. Or how I never listened to your godly statements. Or how we never stopped fighting because I wouldn't let you get your point across. Yes, because I'm sure everything you said would have been that miraculous statement that stopped our fighting eternally, right? I'm sorry I never had any faith in your omniscence. I'm sorry I was never nice enough, and I never loved you enough so you felt complete. I guess that hole in our relationship was my fault too.
If only I knew how to be a real person, right? If only I could function with the kind of people who were going somewhere. I guess I'm just too fucking crazy for everybody else, right? Maybe I should get some help. Maybe I should continue taking the medicine that is slowing killing me. Maybe I should consider being numb all of my life so I don't disagree with you and our relationship has that fake sugar coating to it.
We always ended our fights agreeing on the basis, it can't be resolved because that's just the way I am.
I'm sorry what I am isn't what you like anymore. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | hum | | Time: | 10:14 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/blank.gif) dead |
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| I am an american aquarium drinker
I assassin down the avenue
Because I'm DEAD mom
We're all dead
You just won't believe me, will you? I have been telling you for so long, I have been preaching it as loud as I am, but no one will ever believe me. It's hard to accept that sort of certainty. It's more certain than the guilt I'm sure to face from merely waking tomorrow, it's more certain than everything that I'm not going to do tonight
dead
dead dead dead
we're all fucking dead
every time you tell me to do what you have to do i die
every time society tells me that my breathing is out of line i die
every time i am presented with yet another statistic
another quota
another measurement
another answer
when will you all figure it out?
there are sure as hell aren't answers, just because I'm God
and I'm you
and I'm him
and her
and everyone else
Which makes all of you just as fucking dead as I am
which makes everything i created in my sick mind just as pained
Jesus fucking christ do i ever hate you. Is that all you think I am, you fucking bitch? I am just some excess drama to you arent i? I hate you, I hate the way you make me feel, I hate the way I am sobbing, I hate these words, because nothing can do me justice, because of YOU because OF YOU
why i am nothing to you
why is everything i do a mistake
i want to scream,
i want to scream so loud that the whole fucking creation hears me
i want them all to know how you make me feel
i want them to see me right now
i want them to feel the salt and water burning my face my eyes my chin and now my collarbone
i want to feel how ignored this is
i want them to feel your laugh and your expression every single time you walk past me
i want them to feel how alienated you make me feel
you make me feel like a fucking freak, you bitch. every time in my life that i have ever hated anything about myself it was you who instilled it there. every time i ever doubted myself, you were there mom. do you know how paranoid i am that everyone hates me? you know how it started?
when katie was a little girl, and something would go wrong in the house, or katie did something that wasn't understandable in mommy's household, little katie got scolded for being wrong. katie was always wrong, and when she still loved you, she cared about what you thought of her. you were the impossible mother, because no matter what katie did, she could never please you. so she could never please herself because she walked away feeling empty every time you scolded her, and sooner or later looked at her, because you didn't even like the way she looked. you didn't like her eyes because they had those wretched scars from that surgery that was YOUR fault because YOU smoked and drank during your pregnancy. it was almost like you doomed her before she could ever know. and blamed it on her, because she wasn't strong enough. because you weren't strong enough. like mother like daughter
katie hated herself because she could never please her family, and tried desperately to please other people. but katie always found doubt within herself, and was never able to be confident enough to accept anything she ever did. everything had a set answer for you, you were so specific, and everything about katie was all wrong. she was the fluke. she was the accident. kara even told her so. "know why your parents hate you? I do."
katie became afraid of other people because she was afraid they would scold her and never accept her just like you. but that's not true, because the whole is not that vindictive. well it's a goddamn shame it took me seventeen years to find out, because it's too late now. poor little katie will never understand that there isn't just one answer. poor katie will never learn to love herself or anything that is a product of herself, even her potentil children. katie will hate her children because they will be just as big of failures to a nonexistant answer as she was. her children had the misfortune of being a part of her. they have to say they know me
or don't at all, because who would want that? who would want me in their life anyway? i'll just fuck it up, just like you said mom. i should never involve myself with anyone else, because i'll ruin their lives just like i ruined yours, right mom? Right mom? I don't want to dare share my melancholy with anyone else, because i am like a disease and they might catch me and never rid themselves of me
that is what i am now, mom
a terminal illness
i am the world's terminal illness
i will come here each day and i will ravage their souls and i will leave them with nothing because i will never be able to please anyone.
i'm so sorry i ruined it | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| And I think what it comes down to, is I just can't be alive anymore.
Death of an Interior Decorator
you were the mother of three girls so sweet
who stormed through your turnstile
and climbed to the street
but after conception your body lay cold
and withered through autumn and you found yourself old
can you tell me why you have been so sad?
he took a lover on a faraway beach
while you arrange flowers and chose color schemes
can you tell me why you have been so sad?
can you tell me why you have been so sad?
the girls were all there
they traded their vows
the youngest one glared with furrowed brows
they tenderly kissed then cut the cake
the bride then tripped and broke the vase
the one you thought would spend the years
so perfectly paced below the mirror
arriving late, you clean the debris
and walked into the angry scene
it felt just like falling in love again
can you tell me why you have been so sad?
can you tell me why you have been so… | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Cream | | Subject: | White Room | | Time: | 07:06 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/discontent.gif) fucking sigh |
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| Cream
In the white room with black curtains near the station
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings
Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes
Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment
I’ll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves
You said no strings could secure you at the station
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows
I walked into such a sad time at the station
As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning
I’ll wait in the queue when the trains come back;
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves
At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd
Consolation for the old wound now forgotten
Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes
She’s just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings
I’ll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd;
Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves | | comments: Leave a comment |
| That's it, that's it that's IT
I am going crazy, stark raving MAD in this hell
I am panicing at the mere thought of this bullshit bouncing off of every fucking wall. I am sure that this place is going to drive me absolutely insane. One day,
Act I Scene i
I am going to be in some class, and in the middle of some bullshit lecture, I am just going to start laughing. Hysterically. At everyone, and at everything, pointing and staring and laughing my mind away at all the tools and fucking sheep congregated together for a "better purpose"
I will stand up and clutch my heart with more hyenic laughter, and I will tell them all
that they have been held in this prison for too long, and that they are all the subconcious pawns of the biggest fucking capitalist pig corporation known to man
The Federal Government
We are all dehumanizing ourselves each day we step foot in this place, so we can "learn," so one day we can have a job, and earn money, lots of money, so much money that we are virtually carefree and we don't have to worry about how our own minds are deteoriating into ash as we fall into an age of ease and accomodation.
Intellectualism is dying among us, and public education is killing it fastest. Please don't reach too high
Don't go too far
We need you for the unskilled jobs
Soon you'll be worthless
Until you have more kids who will filter into our capitalist economy and make us more money, more powerful, until we have become a varitable Hitler of the stock market world.
Everything has a price these days, and school is merely enforcing it. Conform you minds, your thoughts,
My God if I bear myself to think in this place, I am crazy. I panic and I climb walls because of this monotony. Same message every day.
Eat your vegetables and shells so you can be a big strong minority murderer
some day Johnny
To learn in this institution, one must shut off their mind and just let the lies soak in. "Why the monotony would drive you simply crazy if you didn't," laughed
---
So this morning walking into school, I decided that I will no longer be a part of the American educational process. I started panicing last night and I couldn't sleep, so I woke up early. What for, I don't know. I just kept thinking about how the whole idea of this educational system is ridiculous. You can't teach, you have to learn. They cram our skulls with facts, but never is any thinking required. No new ideas are ever necessary. Art in any form is lost, and mathematical "truths" are taking over.
I am tired of this bullshit and all of the lies they are feeding us. I will learn what I want, lest I go crazy. I become more and more worrisome about my mental status thanks to this school. I am more and more panicy and anxious every day, and today I was rambling loudly on the way in this place, and on how I have no use being here.
And I really don't. I think, what the hell do I want from this place? French? I can do that on my own. Art? On my own. I've already made the friends. I can act on my own, I can write on my own... With History and Thought practically over, I've got nothing else I need or want in this school. It's really time for me to go. I've done all there is to do in this place, and I need to be on my own. High school is far too many years for me, and I am dying every extra day this body forces me here.
During my first two classes today, I seriously considered dropping out. I am still seriously considering. If I do well enough on the ACT and SAT, and then take the classes I need to graduate at a college, what else do I need? My only concern is being able to get in a good enough place that I will get an education, and it will not be more of this bullshit.
And I'll do what I please in college, and then I will go to Europe and begin my travel of the world.
And then | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | voices | | Time: | 06:16 am | | Current Mood: | anxious |
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| I am in so much pain, I am bleeding everywhere, but there is not a wound. There is no scar except expression, and this is not enough to express to the blind. The cold, tiled floor is my only comfort, as everytthing else drags me to tears as my invisible wounds are torn open.
I am so tired of you trying to be my doctor. You are not the one that decides how much medication I take, nor are you the one that decides what medications I take. You are not the final say on my prescriptions. You are not the one that tells me the side effects. I am anxious, so take some iron? So I can be more awake and alert, when all I want is to be dead and asleep. I no longer want to be this way. I do not want to move at this frightening pace.
And here I am with nothing to show for myself but an addiction.
Take too much, and I am edgy and anxious for days. Take too little, and I'm nervous and moody. I can tell when my 24 hours are up because I start getting nervous about forgetting to take it, because I know what happens when I don't. I fall so far, so fast, you wonder what I'm even trying to accomplish anymore.
I have a headache because I am so fucking tired. I have a headache because I have two papers to write today and a study guide, and a chapter to read, and a story to read, and an outline, notecards, and an annotataed bibliography to do.
I am looking out on all of this with dead eyes. I have fallen so far, and I no longer have any wish to come back. My sides hurt now, probably because I haven't eaten...in some time now. I don't want anything else. I have nothing to slake. I have nothing to want.
Except peace. Oh how I would give anything for peace. I am paranoid, anxious, angry, or morose. These are my only emotions. There is no calm anymore, no indifferent, no dead.
Just a pathetic desire to be. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Wilco
I am an american aquarium drinker
I assassin down the avenue
I'm running out in the big city blinking
What was I thinking when I let go of you?
Let's forget about the tongue-tied lightning
Let's undress just like cross-eyed strangers
This is not a joke so please stop smiling
What was I thinking when I said it didn't hurt?
I want to glide through those brown eyes dreaming
Take from the inside, lady gold on tight
You so right when you said I been drinking
What was I thinking when we said goodnight?
I want to hold you in the bible-black pre-dawn
You're quite a quiet domino, bury me not
Take off your bandaid because I don't believe in touchdowns
What was I thinking when we said hello?
I always thought that if I held you tightly
You'd always love me like you did back then
Then I fell asleep & the city kept blinking
What was I thinking when I let you back in?
I am trying to break your heart
I am trying to break your heart
Used to be lying when I said it wasn't easy
I am trying to break your heart
Disposable dixie cup drinking
I assassin down the avenue
I'm running out in the big city blinking
What was I thinking when I let go of you? | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | click | | Subject: | Anti-Thesis | | Time: | 03:28 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/indifferent.gif) at peace |
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| Art is a means of communication beyond words
A soul, by dictionary definition
soul n.
1. The animating and vital principle in humans, credited with the faculties of thought, action, and emotion and often conceived as an immaterial entity.
If thought is beyond us, then what does that make us? Are we then not our own God? Are we then not infinity, escaping that? If we think that we think beyond ourselves, is this a paradox? If we are thinking of things that we cannot think about are we really thinking? To do this, you would have to do two things that cannot coexist, because they are two different times. For two different times to be existing at once, we must be living and breathing infinity
Which means a soul must also be infinity?
What are you speaking? I can't hear myself anymore, because I am not thinking. I am not thinking. I am moving in words that are not words nor id. They are nothing, Freud, how could you lead me wrong
How could you lead all those millions wrong
I still can't hear you
Right. So I'm supposed to be writing "what is a soul"
I don't think I am anymore
I just don't like the idea in my life
how valueable is life... hard to make less fact-y and more philosophy
Ah, I know... The Idustrial Revolution, my arch enemy
It killed thought
It will be the bringer of conformity and gradual capitalism. People will become machines themselves because they have advanced their technology so far that human thought has died out due to lack of necessity. Art is dead. Literature is dead. A survivor that stumbles on this new species of man will be witnessing the end of time and the destruction of the universe.
The Industrial Revolution has begun the influx of all mankind to abandon questions without answers. They must leave no question without a theory, everything must have a right answer. Put an end to the subjectivity that philosophy brought us. Once we have it all figured out, we can sit back and watch the world run itself because we will have found an answer to every questions and created a new world, much like the ice age. Except the death age(s).
The Industrial revolution brought the concept of simplicity, mass production, and mass manipulation. While using the simplest terms, you can educate the masses to follow you and create an army of ignorance so large that all ingenious thought is choked out and the world becomes the mass production of all evil and numbness.
Numbness. That's all people want to hide themselves in, starting with the Industrial Revolution. Oh, I don't want to feel this pain, let me just take some pills.
Oh, I don't want to feel this stressed, let me using this technology,
Oh I don't want to be down because of work, I'll get a machine to do it
Oh I don't want to waste my time
Be unhappy
Be angry
Be extreme
slowing dwindling down to...
I just don't want to feel anything, because then I am in bliss.
No need to learn.
No need to think.
No need to experience.
I just won't let it phase me
I'll be indifferent so I'm efficient
Like they say, it's hard to move quickly if you have emotional attachment | | comments: Leave a comment |
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