It's 15:00 o'clock and still bright outside. I'm almost halfway through the third part of Grimston Estate and this time I'm not gonna give up halfway through. No, I'm gonna read the whole shit and edit every single word that looks weird, every sentence that doesn't hold together, every paragraph that isn't consistent.
I want to do something other than just sitting here, but it's as if I've grown stuck in this chair. Just reading and editing while listening to Marillion, smoking and occasionally drinking coffee. This is a writer's dream but I'm so terribly bored.
I'm bored with a profession I don't have but practise it moneyless. It's supposed to be my dream profession, but where have my dreams gone? I do everything half heartedly, my soul is detached and my mind is full of other thoughts. About Anna, school, K, other friends and so on. I can't focus on anything, everything is just half here and half there.
Like a mist covering my eyes like dulled lenses, I see nothing clear. It's not like being drunk, more like an empty void, a complete opposite of drunkenness. I'm sober and I don't plan to drink again, although I likely would later on. Just trying to get my senses back, my emptiness is reaching out to fill the whole room.
My life feels like starless night, a cloudy day when the winds are completely still. Everything echo in an impending silence. Hollow. I feel so fucking hollow and nothing touches me. Emotionally, mentally or physically. Soon, it feels like, I will have forgotten what it's like to be moved by something, and somehow I fear that when I reach the end of my book for the fourth time, I will not be able to cry.
Is my book not good enough to shake me emotionally anymore? Will it be able to move my readers then? Hesitatingly I write that the end usually brings me to tears, cause maybe that is revealing a lot. I don't know, I've forgotten how to care. It's like that for me, that when I hurt someone else for god knows what stupid reasons, I cannot forgive myself, and it leaves an empty void inside me.
First, it was anxiety, before the emptiness hit me. But now that anxiety evaporates and I can't feel anything. It still hurts, and it should, but it's like I've become distant to my own pain, I only acknowledge it, know that it's there, rumbling in the background somewhere. I still think of it, but I experience no physical reactions to those thoughts. My heart beats calmly, and my breathing is even calmer. I don't sweat, I don't physically hurt.
Desperate to just feel something, I'll try anything, but regret it the very moment. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe the emptiness can slowly heal my wounds, turn them into eternal scars, but no longer bleed.
Am I fulfilling a dream by writing and editing, or do I do it just because I feel like I have to? To have something I can publish, to maybe, just maybe finally be seen and heard for what I write. Maybe, finally, leave a mark behind me or even become famous for it. I don't crave fame, I hardly even want it, but somehow the thought is alluring.
If I ever wanted to become famous, it should be for my writing and nothing else. But it doesn't matter to me. All I want is for my book to be out there for people to read. All I want is to share my story that I've worked on for almost 3 years. It can never get perfect, I find more errors the more I edit. I've even thought of re-writing the whole shit because I believe both my language and writing skills have improved significantly since I wrote in August last year.
I'm improving quickly as I use the English language as much as I do. And reading it through, 6 months later, I realise that if I continue waiting, it will just appear crappier and crappier in my eyes. So I've decided to try to get it published within this year. But on the other hand I truly do love my book, despite me being so despondent lately. And I've also actually thought of maybe, possibly, writing a follow up about another character in it. If this goes well, that is. And it's far from a promise, just a thought.
As I try to gather myself for continue editing, I'm struck by the loneliness that I don't dislike this time. I chose to isolate, chose to not visit tumblr and only somewhat be on facebook. I chose to not answer the phone unless it's my mother calling, chose to tell the crew to fuck off for the entire weekend. I chose to be alone in my apartment for 3 days.
I think I might need it. The solitude that I've deprived myself of for weeks now. Not counting in school, I have been far more social than before. Counting in school, I'm far more outgoing than before. And it just makes me so tired and close to exhausted, until I just shut down completely. I want nothing to do with the real world, I'm so tired of it and all its people constantly demanding of me to be friendly and social.
I've just had enough, and I'm only puking my guts out on this blog to get it off my chest, all these words that never stop slicing through my head. It's a whole lot of words today, infinite they are. I can see it but I haven't counted them all. Anyway, back to editing for now.
Showing posts with label emptiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emptiness. Show all posts
Saturday, 21 March 2015
Tuesday, 24 February 2015
Emptiness
I miss K so incredibly much that I've forgotten how to feel anything else. I'm just torn, so very torn apart. From everything, really. And all that remains is a hollow feeling of emptiness and loneliness. I drink myself apart, write myself to pieces and I can't get anything right.
About to purge my dinner now. I'm getting tired of it, but also addicted to it. I've purged every day for almost a month now. It makes me feel even more hollowed out. Even emptier. Not right in the moment, but right in the moment after, and it stays for hours, that feeling.
Yeah, that emptiness. Sometimes it eats me alive, consumes me, other times it's what I strive for. Feeling empty. It's what I drink for. And usually it's right when I stop drinking that last glass for the night, right after a purge and all I have is diet coke and a cigarette, is when that feeling hits me. It's like a graceful calm, an echo, a shadow lingering or like sounds slowly fading away.
And I become one with it, that feeling, what I've been longing for all day. But it's not satisfying. I want something else, deep at heart, I want something else. And that is the opposite, to feel everything so deeply, to feel alive. But I only want to be that way with K. Without him, I want nothing at all. And I believe it destroys me. That craving for what I cannot have, and my striving for the second best which is the exact opposite.
I am killing myself slowly, cigarette after cigarette, drink after drink, purge after purge. Those are my most dangerous behaviours right now, and they become my very essence. The reason, the cure, the medicine, the ultimate self destruction. I feel as though I'm just withering away, and I watch it, how awfully I wither with not a hint of grace. Destruction, it's rarely pretty.
But I'm still waiting, hoping, dreaming. But mostly I'm just killing time, and myself in the process of not caring what becomes of me in his absence.
About to purge my dinner now. I'm getting tired of it, but also addicted to it. I've purged every day for almost a month now. It makes me feel even more hollowed out. Even emptier. Not right in the moment, but right in the moment after, and it stays for hours, that feeling.
Yeah, that emptiness. Sometimes it eats me alive, consumes me, other times it's what I strive for. Feeling empty. It's what I drink for. And usually it's right when I stop drinking that last glass for the night, right after a purge and all I have is diet coke and a cigarette, is when that feeling hits me. It's like a graceful calm, an echo, a shadow lingering or like sounds slowly fading away.
And I become one with it, that feeling, what I've been longing for all day. But it's not satisfying. I want something else, deep at heart, I want something else. And that is the opposite, to feel everything so deeply, to feel alive. But I only want to be that way with K. Without him, I want nothing at all. And I believe it destroys me. That craving for what I cannot have, and my striving for the second best which is the exact opposite.
I am killing myself slowly, cigarette after cigarette, drink after drink, purge after purge. Those are my most dangerous behaviours right now, and they become my very essence. The reason, the cure, the medicine, the ultimate self destruction. I feel as though I'm just withering away, and I watch it, how awfully I wither with not a hint of grace. Destruction, it's rarely pretty.
But I'm still waiting, hoping, dreaming. But mostly I'm just killing time, and myself in the process of not caring what becomes of me in his absence.
Wednesday, 19 March 2014
Where it hurts
Went a day without painkillers. Shouldn't have done that. Yesterday, right before bed it hurt so much I could just barely fall asleep (pain makes me tired so eventually I did fall asleep). And as I woke up this morning, around 9:30, I had trouble just getting dressed and move my ass to my computer. May I say instant gratification as soon as that OxyNorm I took kicked in?
It helps reducing my headache as well, at least the part of it that is not imaginary. However much of it that is "real" I do not know though. Psychosomatic stuff is always kinda complicated. But damn sweet it is when the pain in my chest slowly fades and I can breathe without it hurting. Cause I use my chest muscles more than my stomach muscles when I breathe, so yeah, it literally hurts to breathe nowadays after the surgery.
Pain. It has become a huge part of my life and the only way I know how to deal with it is to inflict more pain. That, or stuffing myself full of strong opiates that still just make me more high than pain free. I cannot cure my headache, and after ten years of carrying it with me every day, I've come to accept that I just have to find ways to live with it.
I've kept my circadian rhythm since I got back from the hospital by the way, except for one or two days when I slept until afternoon. The time before noon is always the hardest. I like playing WoW when there aren't that many players online, and I like the soft sunlight making my apartment brighter without strong beams of light shining through the window blinding me.
But I hate that I get so nauseous, and sometimes I like or dislike that I feel so empty. Before existing becomes hard with all the thoughts and feelings invading my mind and body as the day progresses. I like forenoons, but they are the worst part of the day.
It helps reducing my headache as well, at least the part of it that is not imaginary. However much of it that is "real" I do not know though. Psychosomatic stuff is always kinda complicated. But damn sweet it is when the pain in my chest slowly fades and I can breathe without it hurting. Cause I use my chest muscles more than my stomach muscles when I breathe, so yeah, it literally hurts to breathe nowadays after the surgery.
Pain. It has become a huge part of my life and the only way I know how to deal with it is to inflict more pain. That, or stuffing myself full of strong opiates that still just make me more high than pain free. I cannot cure my headache, and after ten years of carrying it with me every day, I've come to accept that I just have to find ways to live with it.
I've kept my circadian rhythm since I got back from the hospital by the way, except for one or two days when I slept until afternoon. The time before noon is always the hardest. I like playing WoW when there aren't that many players online, and I like the soft sunlight making my apartment brighter without strong beams of light shining through the window blinding me.
But I hate that I get so nauseous, and sometimes I like or dislike that I feel so empty. Before existing becomes hard with all the thoughts and feelings invading my mind and body as the day progresses. I like forenoons, but they are the worst part of the day.
Monday, 6 January 2014
Unliveable life
I don't know what to say. I feel cold inside. Empty. Apathy has come to stay. I don't know if this a form of depression, but I have a sensation that it could be. My inability to get out of bed. The way everything is hollow, tasteless, dull, empty, colourless, meaningless. I'm still creative though. Still able to draw, write poems, and enjoy playing WoW. But everything is half hearted. It's like I just "have to" do it to get it off me.
Like playing WoW is just a way of making time pass, time that I don't want. All I ever have is time and all I want is for it to go away. Another emotional suicide, killing everything I have inside me, killing all the time I can instead of making it stop permanently. I'm suicidal, but choose to keep on living at the same time as I'm in a way killing my life. Do you understand? I'm killing myself indirectly.
It's killing me. There's so much that is killing me inside. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to endure. I'm filled to the brim with medications, yet I'm just a heartbeat away from being full blown suicidal again. This mess is eating me alive, I become thinner every day, until soon I'm just an empty shell. I'm filling that void with smoke, cause at least there'll be something in there.
It's weird that the more I feel, the emptier I feel. It's like all these emotions extinguish each other. They vaporise before I can catch them and analyse them. But I can tell this pressure from within can't hold much longer. What I want in life I cannot have, and what I have I do not want.
I want to be someone else, a totally different person. Make me his girlfriend, or make me a healthy young adult with his whole life ahead of him, make me loveable and make my life liveable.
Like playing WoW is just a way of making time pass, time that I don't want. All I ever have is time and all I want is for it to go away. Another emotional suicide, killing everything I have inside me, killing all the time I can instead of making it stop permanently. I'm suicidal, but choose to keep on living at the same time as I'm in a way killing my life. Do you understand? I'm killing myself indirectly.
It's killing me. There's so much that is killing me inside. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to endure. I'm filled to the brim with medications, yet I'm just a heartbeat away from being full blown suicidal again. This mess is eating me alive, I become thinner every day, until soon I'm just an empty shell. I'm filling that void with smoke, cause at least there'll be something in there.
It's weird that the more I feel, the emptier I feel. It's like all these emotions extinguish each other. They vaporise before I can catch them and analyse them. But I can tell this pressure from within can't hold much longer. What I want in life I cannot have, and what I have I do not want.
I want to be someone else, a totally different person. Make me his girlfriend, or make me a healthy young adult with his whole life ahead of him, make me loveable and make my life liveable.
Thursday, 19 December 2013
Procrastinating feelings
I'm always so tired nowadays, like I could just fall asleep at any given moment. Maybe it's still my three months of sleep deprivation and hypnophobia that I'm not entirely recovered from yet. Maybe it's just all the emotional stress that is still going on. I'm not even awake when I'm awake.
It's hard to concentrate on anything. World of warcraft, movies, writing, anything. It takes hours upon getting out of bed for me to wake up somewhat, and then I get so tired again before I know it. Nothing can make even the slightest bit of alert. Not even caffeine or any of the usual or unusual things that I can't think of right now.
People are more annoying than usual in WoW. They keep bothering me with group requests and duel proposals. I was this close to just yell "fuck off" in chat but managed to keep ignoring them instead.
Other than those occasional anger outbursts that don't really burst at all, I feel completely numb today. Just like yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that. Still fantasising about death, self harming, listening to Emilie Autumn and I'm back on normal cigarettes again. I'm not entirely sure why I'm this numb, but it could be that thing that shook me to that shock-like state a month ago. But it's been a month, for crying out loud.
Would it be okay if I say I'm not suicidal, I just have a constant death wish?
It's like I've built a wall around me, and nothing can come through it. I still don't want to feel anything, but I doubt this is a good thing. Well, of course it isn't a good thing, but I don't know what to do about it either. Or if I even want to do something about it. I don't want to be completely numb 24/7, but I don't wanna feel like crap either. And there really isn't a third choice.
I'm putting off going to the grocery store. Just wanna play WoW and watch Criminal Minds. Almost simultaneously. But I have no food left. That is a problem.
It's hard to concentrate on anything. World of warcraft, movies, writing, anything. It takes hours upon getting out of bed for me to wake up somewhat, and then I get so tired again before I know it. Nothing can make even the slightest bit of alert. Not even caffeine or any of the usual or unusual things that I can't think of right now.
People are more annoying than usual in WoW. They keep bothering me with group requests and duel proposals. I was this close to just yell "fuck off" in chat but managed to keep ignoring them instead.
Other than those occasional anger outbursts that don't really burst at all, I feel completely numb today. Just like yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that. Still fantasising about death, self harming, listening to Emilie Autumn and I'm back on normal cigarettes again. I'm not entirely sure why I'm this numb, but it could be that thing that shook me to that shock-like state a month ago. But it's been a month, for crying out loud.
Would it be okay if I say I'm not suicidal, I just have a constant death wish?
It's like I've built a wall around me, and nothing can come through it. I still don't want to feel anything, but I doubt this is a good thing. Well, of course it isn't a good thing, but I don't know what to do about it either. Or if I even want to do something about it. I don't want to be completely numb 24/7, but I don't wanna feel like crap either. And there really isn't a third choice.
I'm putting off going to the grocery store. Just wanna play WoW and watch Criminal Minds. Almost simultaneously. But I have no food left. That is a problem.
Saturday, 14 December 2013
Apathy
I'm still apathetic it seems. I respond to things with thoughts, or words, but not emotionally. Like "oh, that's terrible" or "how adorable" or "that's annoying" but I don't feel sad, happy, angry or anything. It's like I'm trying to tell myself what to feel. I hardly even complain nowadays. It's all just brief statements. And what's up with the short sentences?
If I do feel something, it's just briefly. A few seconds smile, if I get angry it's over so fast my heartbeats don't even increase. Sadness that never creates tears. It's just snap shots.
Yes, I might be a bit over medicated, but usually I can just barely keep my wild emotions in check even with all those drugs. So this isn't because of them. Unless they just suddenly increased massively in strength all by themselves, which is of course highly unlikely, which is my point.
It's weird being back at my parents' place, even though it's just for the weekend. And I slept through all of yesterday, so it feels like I've been here shorter than I actually have. I keep no circadian rhythm, just wake up and go to bed whenever I feel like it. No pressure. Cause I need to stop worry about things that don't matter.
My sleeping pattern really doesn't, you know. Why? Cause it really shouldn't be such a big deal when I sleep or not or for how long. As long as I do sometimes. It's not like I have a schedule to keep up with or something.
If I do feel something, it's just briefly. A few seconds smile, if I get angry it's over so fast my heartbeats don't even increase. Sadness that never creates tears. It's just snap shots.
Yes, I might be a bit over medicated, but usually I can just barely keep my wild emotions in check even with all those drugs. So this isn't because of them. Unless they just suddenly increased massively in strength all by themselves, which is of course highly unlikely, which is my point.
It's weird being back at my parents' place, even though it's just for the weekend. And I slept through all of yesterday, so it feels like I've been here shorter than I actually have. I keep no circadian rhythm, just wake up and go to bed whenever I feel like it. No pressure. Cause I need to stop worry about things that don't matter.
My sleeping pattern really doesn't, you know. Why? Cause it really shouldn't be such a big deal when I sleep or not or for how long. As long as I do sometimes. It's not like I have a schedule to keep up with or something.
Monday, 2 December 2013
Preventing my heart from breaking
Today I've mostly been chain smoking, drinking a lot of tea, consuming chocolate of various kinds. All drugged up on Zyprexa and Sobril, endorphins from numerous self inflicted wounds. Can barely walk or control my muscles and my eyes feel heavy, but sleep is impossible. I'm calmer now though. But it took half my stash of meds to get there.
I haven't felt this numb and empty for as long as I can remember. Maybe I'm in some sort of shock. I can't feel the music, only hear it. I don't get angry, or amused by anything. It's like I've shut down, or a part of me has. But better empty than full of anxiety and sadness, which is what I'm trying to hold back. Maybe holding back a bunch of feelings takes so much energy that no other feelings can emerge in their place. And it leaves me with this empty hole inside of me.
Everything is half-hearted, resistant, hesitant. Maybe I want to be miserable? Maybe I asked for this to happen? I know I thought it. Just so that I could suffer more. Cause this is the only way I know how to feel alive. This week is gonna be a hell to survive.
I haven't felt this numb and empty for as long as I can remember. Maybe I'm in some sort of shock. I can't feel the music, only hear it. I don't get angry, or amused by anything. It's like I've shut down, or a part of me has. But better empty than full of anxiety and sadness, which is what I'm trying to hold back. Maybe holding back a bunch of feelings takes so much energy that no other feelings can emerge in their place. And it leaves me with this empty hole inside of me.
Everything is half-hearted, resistant, hesitant. Maybe I want to be miserable? Maybe I asked for this to happen? I know I thought it. Just so that I could suffer more. Cause this is the only way I know how to feel alive. This week is gonna be a hell to survive.
Wednesday, 27 November 2013
Finally a change
I haven't even been up for a whole day, yet I feel beyond lethargic and apathetic. I feel broken, hollow, like I'm just a shivering and aching shell. Since I've started sleeping again I've been feeling worse. A lot worse. I can barely focus at all, feel more stupid and thick headed than usually, I can't eat and I'm shifting between being freezing cold and sweaty warm all the time.
Sure these nutrition drinks are a good thing and all, but there's a hole in my stomach that hurts when I'm hungry, eating and full. I'm tired, dizzy, nauseous and I just wanna disappear. But I have no wish to sleep so I don't sleep for as long as I used to. No 30 hours at a time anymore, now it's about 10, which is better I suppose. But I have a feeling it's gonna take time before I get better again.
Sleep deprivation and a messed up circadian rhythm can really fuck you up. Three months and I've reached my breaking point. Luckily, I'm apathetic enough to forget about my hypnophobia somehow. Cause I just do and fuck the rest. Tired and can't stay awake? I just won't then. Scared of sleeping, sure as hell, but I've got bigger monsters to fear.
Sure these nutrition drinks are a good thing and all, but there's a hole in my stomach that hurts when I'm hungry, eating and full. I'm tired, dizzy, nauseous and I just wanna disappear. But I have no wish to sleep so I don't sleep for as long as I used to. No 30 hours at a time anymore, now it's about 10, which is better I suppose. But I have a feeling it's gonna take time before I get better again.
Sleep deprivation and a messed up circadian rhythm can really fuck you up. Three months and I've reached my breaking point. Luckily, I'm apathetic enough to forget about my hypnophobia somehow. Cause I just do and fuck the rest. Tired and can't stay awake? I just won't then. Scared of sleeping, sure as hell, but I've got bigger monsters to fear.
Saturday, 9 November 2013
Emptiness
The pounding emptiness is buried in my heart, and the sun never really came up today. Normally I'd be disappointed or something, but today I just... nothing. But I prefer it this way, it's better than how I usually am, feeling a lot of negative stuff. This emptiness is in its contrast a sombre calm, like a cold, misty street in a ghost town. Thinking back to the novel I will someday actually write. Well, one of them, I have two on going. I have some sort of writer's block now. But even still, I keep visiting the places I've created for this one story, the one taking place in an imaginary ghost town somewhere in England. Sort of an alternate reality thing.
Picturing the empty streets, the thick fog, the old tarnished buildings that had become grey over time. Muddy with dust and rain. It's a calm town, and there are no actual ghosts in it. Or well, not any creepy ones at least. Just this one ghost, but she's nothing like one. I imagine myself as the main character, 37 year old Kian, standing in the window to his apartment, wearing only a bath robe over a pyjamas in the early morning breeze. He's a little like me, or rather how I feel like I am.
So I spend more time thinking about the story than actually writing about it. I want to write, but every time I open up the document and put my hands on the keyboard I just freeze up. Where do I start? Which scene should I write at? Where was I the last time? Should I read it through again? I just can't write, I'm unsynchronised. So I just stare out the window, pretending that I am Kian.
Picturing the empty streets, the thick fog, the old tarnished buildings that had become grey over time. Muddy with dust and rain. It's a calm town, and there are no actual ghosts in it. Or well, not any creepy ones at least. Just this one ghost, but she's nothing like one. I imagine myself as the main character, 37 year old Kian, standing in the window to his apartment, wearing only a bath robe over a pyjamas in the early morning breeze. He's a little like me, or rather how I feel like I am.
So I spend more time thinking about the story than actually writing about it. I want to write, but every time I open up the document and put my hands on the keyboard I just freeze up. Where do I start? Which scene should I write at? Where was I the last time? Should I read it through again? I just can't write, I'm unsynchronised. So I just stare out the window, pretending that I am Kian.
Spiralling out of time
Not so strange perhaps, but I really don't feel like myself these days. I'm a shadow. Can't focus on anything, everything is a blur. Like looking out the window of a moving train. Some things you see, others just pass by and you hardly even notice them. You don't notice what you missed until someone points it out to you. And we're not even on the same train.
Nights and days blend together in a flickering light play. I'm lost in numbers but I can't tell the time any more. I don't even know what date it is. Without time everything is disconnected, scattered. I take my meds when they tell me to, but then I can't remember if I took them, even though their bitter taste is still clinging to my throat. That taste that releases when you don't manage to swallow them correctly and they start dissolving in your mouth. And you can't wash it down, cause it's stuck there, for hours or just seconds until you forget about it. Sleep deprivation changes who I am.
I can't feel time, at all. To me, two seconds feels just as long as two hours, two days, or even two years. I'm trying to connect with time by counting, but my numbers are just as useless as a broken watch. I don't fully understand how I perceive time, but it seems to move in circles. Sometimes going backwards, biting its own tail, sometimes moving away some place new before spiralling back again. So maybe it's more like a very uneven spiral. Cause I'm going backwards at the same time as I'm going forward. And people expect me to eat consistently and have circadian rhythm.
How does time feel? Can you feel if you need something depending on how long ago you had it last? Can you tell if it's been a long or a short time, to or from something? Is it different related to the past or the future? I wouldn't know. It doesn't exist. In my world all there is, is astrology and watches, and nothing more. I can't feel it.
I can't feel much at all lately, but something's scratching inside me. Like some wild animal fighting desperately to get free. I put the self destruction on hold, but not for too long, cause if I push it too hard it's gonna end in a disaster. As I said to my shrink today when we talked about my irrational fear of sleep, but this applies in every occasion related to fear: "anxiety isn't dangerous, it can't harm me, I know that - it's what the anxiety can cause me to do that is dangerous".
Nights and days blend together in a flickering light play. I'm lost in numbers but I can't tell the time any more. I don't even know what date it is. Without time everything is disconnected, scattered. I take my meds when they tell me to, but then I can't remember if I took them, even though their bitter taste is still clinging to my throat. That taste that releases when you don't manage to swallow them correctly and they start dissolving in your mouth. And you can't wash it down, cause it's stuck there, for hours or just seconds until you forget about it. Sleep deprivation changes who I am.
I can't feel time, at all. To me, two seconds feels just as long as two hours, two days, or even two years. I'm trying to connect with time by counting, but my numbers are just as useless as a broken watch. I don't fully understand how I perceive time, but it seems to move in circles. Sometimes going backwards, biting its own tail, sometimes moving away some place new before spiralling back again. So maybe it's more like a very uneven spiral. Cause I'm going backwards at the same time as I'm going forward. And people expect me to eat consistently and have circadian rhythm.
How does time feel? Can you feel if you need something depending on how long ago you had it last? Can you tell if it's been a long or a short time, to or from something? Is it different related to the past or the future? I wouldn't know. It doesn't exist. In my world all there is, is astrology and watches, and nothing more. I can't feel it.
I can't feel much at all lately, but something's scratching inside me. Like some wild animal fighting desperately to get free. I put the self destruction on hold, but not for too long, cause if I push it too hard it's gonna end in a disaster. As I said to my shrink today when we talked about my irrational fear of sleep, but this applies in every occasion related to fear: "anxiety isn't dangerous, it can't harm me, I know that - it's what the anxiety can cause me to do that is dangerous".
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