Tuesday, January 04, 2005
I'm feeling... a lot. Anger and depression, mostly. I haven't been truely happy for... well, I can't remember. When have I been truely happy? Have I ever been truely happy? What is it going to take to reach that level?
I don't know... I don't think I even care.
My eye hurts, but I'm not trying to make it stop anymore. My back hurts, and so do my ribs. I don't know why... I feel like someone beat me with a bat. I don't have any bruises, but...
Why are those dreams so real... every time something strikes me, I really feel it. I wake up and I'm in pain (if I was "hit") but there aren't any marks on my body. I don't know where this is coming from.
I remember watching several programs about Armegeddon. I'm still not sure if I'm spelling that right. And watching it.... didn't scare me. Not like it used to. With everything I've gone through, and everything I've lost, I wouldn't be scared to face all the Riders at once. I'd probably laugh as they stuck me down, anyway.
Where will I go when I die? To the Hell that everyone believes in? If there's a Heavan, I certainly don't belong in it. Don't deserve to belong. Is there a place where everyone goes, no matter what they did in life? A light, or something of the sort? Do we just wander, or float? Do we sleep? Is it like falling asleep and then suddenly waking up to someone "judging" you?
Why should I feel alone is beyond me. It's not like anyone's ever cared. Just one, but she still left. She's still in Chicago, she still has yet to call or write. She says she misses me, but are e-mails and livejournal entries really going to convey that message as much as it should? I don't think so. Why should I care about anyone? No one's cared enough about me.
There are very few people, outside of my family, that I care about. Very few. I know a bunch of people, talk to many, but there are very few I'd ever consider myself close to. I can probably count them all on one hand, and not use all five digits.
That's rather sad.
Well, maybe both hands, barely using more than five digits. Barely.
It's still sad.
Do I change this addy again? Or don't I? It's not like a lot of people read this. I'm sure Rachael never read it, and Amanda probably doesn't anymore. Then again, none of that should matter.
Let's see what'll happen when I change it back, just for a bit.
I don't know... I don't think I even care.
My eye hurts, but I'm not trying to make it stop anymore. My back hurts, and so do my ribs. I don't know why... I feel like someone beat me with a bat. I don't have any bruises, but...
Why are those dreams so real... every time something strikes me, I really feel it. I wake up and I'm in pain (if I was "hit") but there aren't any marks on my body. I don't know where this is coming from.
I remember watching several programs about Armegeddon. I'm still not sure if I'm spelling that right. And watching it.... didn't scare me. Not like it used to. With everything I've gone through, and everything I've lost, I wouldn't be scared to face all the Riders at once. I'd probably laugh as they stuck me down, anyway.
Where will I go when I die? To the Hell that everyone believes in? If there's a Heavan, I certainly don't belong in it. Don't deserve to belong. Is there a place where everyone goes, no matter what they did in life? A light, or something of the sort? Do we just wander, or float? Do we sleep? Is it like falling asleep and then suddenly waking up to someone "judging" you?
Why should I feel alone is beyond me. It's not like anyone's ever cared. Just one, but she still left. She's still in Chicago, she still has yet to call or write. She says she misses me, but are e-mails and livejournal entries really going to convey that message as much as it should? I don't think so. Why should I care about anyone? No one's cared enough about me.
There are very few people, outside of my family, that I care about. Very few. I know a bunch of people, talk to many, but there are very few I'd ever consider myself close to. I can probably count them all on one hand, and not use all five digits.
That's rather sad.
Well, maybe both hands, barely using more than five digits. Barely.
It's still sad.
Do I change this addy again? Or don't I? It's not like a lot of people read this. I'm sure Rachael never read it, and Amanda probably doesn't anymore. Then again, none of that should matter.
Let's see what'll happen when I change it back, just for a bit.
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