Tag Archives: depression

Angels & Airwaves

29 May

Friday morning was rushed & forgetful. No pillow. No paper. No time. Car ride.

And do you ever lay awake at night?
And do you ever tell yourself, ‘Don’t try.’?

Friday itself was comforting, but out of place, somehow. I didn’t have anything. I wasn’t brave enough to do anything. There was no frisbee.

Don’t try to let yourself down… Don’t try to let yourself down.

Friday night was just like I’d remembered it… The depression set in well enough. I was lucky to have Jim. ‘You still awake?’ No answer. Glad?

And do you ever see yourself in love?
And do you ever take a chance, my love?

Saturday morning wasn’t too tired. Breakfast. No writing. Like always.

Because you know that I will… Because you know that I will.

Saturday itself was normality and repetition. Gaining confidence. Skip. Lurch-skip, out-skip. I didn’t know where love was.

So hear this, please; and watch as your heart speeds up endlessly… And look for the stars as the sun goes down- each breath that you take has a thunderous sound…

Saturday night was bottomless black despair. Po-jazz made me glorious… Then po-jazz made me want to break things. Tree. No sleep. Journal. No sleep. Jim. No sleep. Downstairs. No sleep. Sneak. No sleep. Upstairs. No sleep. Journal. No sleep. Need you… No sleep. Then- Run.

Everything, everything’s magic.

Sunday morning was love, and all was right.

Just sit back and hold on, but hold on tight… Prepare for the best and the fastest ride. Reach out your hand and I’ll make you mine-

Sunday itself was an end to many things. Breakfast. No meeting. Bagpipes. Little arranging. Need us…

Everything, everything’s magic.

Could You

26 Jan

Petty, that is.

I don’t break down.

At least, I don’t break down like anyone I know.

98/125. My brain – of course, now equipped to do math – tells me this is around 4/5. An eighty. No, less; slightly less- but I’m not going to even think that pointy number that comes ten below an eighty.

You failed, a voice tells me as I walk numbly down the hall. I’m exaggerating; all of this is less, another one says.

I don’t want to hear voices. I want to get above one hundred in a one hundred twenty-five-point test, is all. I want things to be simple; I want to succeed a little, at least; I want some things in life to go away; I want a rewind button;

I want some fucking sleep.

Conversation

3 Jan

‘He’s the kind of person that wouldn’t even care if he lost your friendship.’

‘That’s just because it doesn’t occur to him that it matters like that.’

‘That’s horrible; he’s such an asshole.’

‘He’s a dreamer. This sounds bad, but… He doesn’t really have friendships. Other people have friendships with him. Don’t take that the wrong way, okay?’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘I know. Neither does he, when he remembers it.’

There Are A Lot Of Things

26 Dec

I just can’t help myself sometimes. I blurt things out, and sometimes they’re to you, and I’m not talking about that; it really was a mistake. This isn’t just to you. This is to you, too; you, the reason I now compulsively hover over every link and picture to check that there isn’t more to gobble up, for you… I confused myself that this was for you, as well; you, the person I confused myself over for a few long, flavourful weeks, and I’ll just give up now.

There isn’t any more to gobble up, and I’m sewing the pieces together, and sometimes I wish there was just a bass line underneath it all, and the wish that that would not have a deeper meaning and the deep yearning need for it to have one after all are tearing me apart.

This is to you – I will not give up now – this is to you; I know you read this. I’m sorry for everything.

This is to you, though. I want it to be. I forget all about everyone else sometimes. That worries me. Am I losing them? I might need only you and that and those, but them…

I’m falling asleep. I’m falling asleep. I can’t keep my eyes open, holiday binge, weekend binge, I do this all the time, whenever I get a chance, I’m falling asleep.

I want to cry. I want you- I did it for you when she wasn’t there, I did it for you, can I take that back can you give it to me because I think I need it now, someone to take into confidence, then disappear, double comma, end sentence, you too.

You taught me lessons I didn’t want to learn, and many slash some in a way that I still feel is inappropriate slash completely irrelevant. I hope you read this and you understand it but you won’t.

I am falling asleep.

I just gobble it all up until there’s nothing left. There isn’t any more to take, take, this season, take take this season, King Arthur falling apart I want to cry.

You say beautiful. Do you really mean that? I’m not.

I say beautiful. I really mean it. You are.

This is for you, after all.

I’m sitting here and I hope you got that, what I sent you, I hope you got it, I wish you’d gotten it earlier when you read this, I wish you’d gotten it right away, I wish I could make you stay all the time we’d be alone college you said alone.

College. Sick. I feel sick. Lashing out, writing prose, room, stifling. Lashing out.

I want to, sometimes. Or it almost happens, sometimes. I never really want to. You, with the wonderful hair, you, I wonder why she broke up with you I don’t see it, you; you did something annoying, and I nearly broke.

I don’t break. I never break. Do I break?

If this were a voice, would I hear it; would I listen? I listened last time, forty minutes, just like you, I want that, please, give that to me please I need you more than I need you because I need you; for that very same reason.

I feel sick.

I don’t see them. I don’t see them or you anymore, I never see you, I won’t see anyone, I can’t see anyone. I’m more blind than you know.

I need to throw up. I need a moment of release, I need lines for control if you say so if you say so I’ll do whatever it takes. I need to categorise. I need a moment’s silence and no clicking, I need a moment’s silence under the stars, I need to yawn and be filled.

If this were a voice, I feel sick, I would listen. I say beautiful. I say forget it.

I say forget it all. College. I feel sick. Sometimes I blurt things out, but I’m sewing the pieces together as they all fall apart. I said I saw you in an outline of light, golden light centre of my being next to you church pew lying there fantasy lying there I could have kissed you. It would have been messy in only a very figurative sense of the word.

Do I break? You’ve certainly had the opportunity to test me lately. Do I break? I’m sewing the pieces together and it’s impossible to know where this is going. I feel sick. I would listen, I would listen, of course I would listen. I say forget it. Everything.

Forty minutes…

You are beautiful.

(It was too silly.)

(But it wasn’t.)

(I’d do it.)

(If.)

Static

26 Oct


(This is so much better than the studio version, despite its faults.)

So, today has been interesting. Basically, I did nothing at school. Which was a welcome relief. I think I acted too sarcastic in French, though; the teacher does not seem to approve of my… How shall I put it. Laissez-faire approach? Not to be too punny or anything.

Nota bene: This post is bound to be rather random. My brain is feeling scattered, and surprisingly, a headache seems to be lurking.

Second block seemed shorter than normal. Since I’ve been sort of busy… I am finding it harder to enjoy free time. I just didn’t want to do anything today.

I ended up going to the band room. Jordan was there… I played him some jazz and wished I could just lock all the doors and cover the windows. Maybe sing a bit. Probably have a one-person rave party.

[I think what was missing might have been you.]

Now is the type of time in which I will begin to say ‘I don’t know…’ and not really mean it at all. The thing is… I really don’t know, but that’s not the message I’m trying to send at all. Please, anybody, help me interpret when you find me like this?

Chemistry was fun. We went to the computer lab and did an activity on elements. I cheated and had time to check my email.

What? It wasn’t like it was real cheating.

I don’t get headaches. Ever. Plus, I had some ice cream and a brownie after school. Almost a binge day, depending on whether or not I eat a lot at dinner.

Speaking of that. You’ve probably never heard me use that term. Binge day. Unless of course you are Sierra, in which case you have. I’m not bulimic… Somewhat due to the fact that my ‘bingeing’ involves me just indulging a bit, but mostly because I don’t really purge. Some days, I exercise a lot more than normal and get excited when I see a ‘good’ number on the scale. But weight alone – actually, I’m beginning to think at all – is not a good indicator of health or improvement. So anyway. Enough worrying. Stop.

Seriously. There actually is nothing to be worried about here. What are the statistics? Five to fifteen percent of people with bulimia are also male. What are the numbers for people who used to be male?

Also, I just had dinner. It was good. Turkey tetrazzini.

I didn’t know how to spell that. I need to learn Italian, and restart Esperanto for the third time, and kick my French teacher into sanity and action, and I also need to show her my old French book and see if we can bully the language department into giving us money for people to get them, because the book is really just an orgasm on paper. Practically a French erotica novel.

I’ve come to the conclusion that iTunes and ǝsǝǝɥɔ ǝbɐʇʇoɔ have a really bad shuffle choice when it comes to music. On the other hand, iTunes just pulled up The Message, which I have to say is some high-quality beat-juice.

Or maybe it’s just that I don’t like anything anymore.

– want to scream to the world something, anything-only worry-only-only w-worr-onl-onlywor-only worry –

It is like a jungle, sometimes. I try not to wonder how I keep from goin’ under.

Makes me wonder how strings attached to wrists stay on without providing a constant pain to the owner’s little lines, associations with dissimilar topics in fabric turns- makes me wonder about the lines themselves → makes me remember wanting a closeness, takes me back to a silliness-innocence I’ve since lost, synapses to mush, because it is that time of year again, soon it’ll all start all over → seasonal ups, makes me wish I had a beat to my life → love the repetitive nature of feet slapping the pavement, jarring every now and then extending to the same synapses, hardened, diamond-crystal → wish I could be all that I want you to want me to be, makes me wonder

How I switch this off.

Meditation, In A Way

22 Oct

I just spent almost exactly an hour talking to myself, recording with Garageband. It started out because I desperately needed to talk to someone, but didn’t know who to call/if I should call.

Jude: I decided against it because it was late. I know you mean anytime. For some reason, some sort of moral sense is keeping me from dialing your numbers when it feels too far into the evening. And at that point, it was eleven thirty.

M: I wasn’t sure if your cell phone would be on or not (and I sure as hell wasn’t dialing your home number). I wanted it to be off, so I could leave a message, because I think that would be the ideal situation (other than us having some sort of direct link that didn’t require loud ringing noises), but I couldn’t know, and so decided against it.

You two were the only people I felt comfortable intruding on like that. M because… Well, because, and Jude because you’ve explicitly told me, and even then I decided against it, so don’t anyone feel left out because your name isn’t here.

Guh. I am just typing nonsense here.

Only one more important part; the aftermath. I feel a lot better. Collected & cool, somehow (literally, not figuratively; chilly). I actually haven’t cried quite like I did tonight in some time now… It’s a different, more extended form. Not just an emotional burst, but more of a cold front-style behaviour, for those of you taking Earth Space right now.

I deleted it. It was powerful, it was raw, and there were things I think I actually should have snipped out to give to people – important ways and mannerisms of expressing things I haven’t been able to get across in the past – but overall, it was the best choice. I feel clean now.

(And I still have few of my secrets, too.)

A Look 10/7/09

7 Oct

You don't have to give all of you to her. You should save a little for yourself."