| Loser |
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| 12:06am 05/02/2003 |
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mood:  giddy music: None-At stupid mothers house
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I.
Am.
A.
Loser.
But a very, very happy loser. You may even call me ecstatic. The more adventerous of you may even consider me...giddy. See, I got a job! Woohoo! I am no longer a job less bumb wandering from one point in life to the next. I'm oriented, I have goals! I have a cashier position at Kmart! Ok, ok, I told you I was a loser. But that's ok. I have a job. I have a girl that I'm only falling more in love with as time goes by. I'm doing the college thing in fall. Soon, I'll have my own place, because, well, basically everyone I know has offered to get an apartment with me. But I don't want an apartment, I think it'd be cool to rent a townhouse. But that's require some people. Which is easily enough accomplished. And a car, a car would be nice. That too is easy enough to get. Jeff said he'd help me with that one. Uh-oh. I'm doing well, life is going OK. *shudders* SOMETHING bad is going to happen. I just know it. It always does. I just hope that this time, its not so expensive. |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| Evil |
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| 11:48pm 28/01/2003 |
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mood:  hopeful music: DDR- Butterfly
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Evil = Live Palendrome style. UUUUUGGGGGHHHHH. DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!!!! I want a job! I spend so much gods damn time looking for a job, that it feels like I have one. You know, without the paycheck. At least it's tax time, I'll be getting a bit from that. Beyond that, I want a job though. Christ knows I really don't need money for a bit. But I feel so....lazy. *sighs* My life would be sooo complete if I had a job. Kelley and I are doing great, although I haven't seen her for one whole day! Grr. : P My friends are all doing the school thing, except those that aren't. I'm finnally getting some free time to myself, when the house is relatively empty. I don't think I've ever seen it empty. But that might be beacuse in order to see, I'd have to be in it, and that would make it not empty. Odd. Well, I'm done ranting, time to go play star ocean. |
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| Interjection |
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| 11:34pm 28/01/2003 |
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mood:  nostalgic music: Wear Sunscreen (Class of 1999)
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So my senior year continued and I quickly found myself overwhelmed. Me, a person that could never be overwhelmed by anything. I stutter when I get nervous, or stressed. I’ve noticed that. Colleges and Otakon, and love, friends, grades, etc. It’s a huge balancing act. Huge. But I’ve put everything into these priorities. Love. School. Work. That’s how it was.
It was not all that different from the year before, I suppose. Eventually, I got everything down into a routine...with frequent breaks that were not only welcome but refreshing. I was living fairly high, I had a job as a waiter which I was making good money with, I was going out a lot, driving, having fun. Being a senior was a huge plus, since more and more of my teachers had little problems with me just up and leaving. Mr. Krimmelbein was an exceptional teacher I had in that not only was he extremely effective in instilling me with knowledge, he was also loose and laid back, letting us leave to go grab lunch or see a movie.
Still, my senior year was not without its....intricacies. In the beginning I had just broken up with Laura. It hurt, and what happened with her hurt. Even before that Liz was coming on to me, and before and after I tried to decline her advances. I simply was put off by her aggressiveness, her tenacity. It’s not that I only choose meek people to be with....it’s just that she was so flamboyant that it scared me. She was the life of things around her, organizing, fueling, making sure everyone was entertained, and that was me. That was what I did. I suppose it just...bothered me.
Yet even with Liz after me I remained alone for a good part of my senior year. Things past, lit mag, school, work, play, all of that occurred, and to my dismay it occurred without Tammy. I had told her that I did not want to talk to her, that I needed closure. She said she understood. But as time progressed, the realization was beginning to creep over me. I did NOT want closure. I did NOT want a definite no. I wanted her. I needed her. Even so, it was my decree that kept us apart, and I held to it. I simply said to myself if I can hang in there a little while longer, it will be ok. If I can hang in there a little while longer, things will start to get better. I will change. She will change. But no, nothing changed, and I only ended up wanting her more.
Of course, Stephan without a partner is like....um....Stephan without a partner. I came to realize I needed boyfriends and girlfriends, in fact, I searched out boyfriends and girlfriends that would do two things. Distract me from Tammy, and distract me from life. Life at home, which was completely depleting me of all semblance of happiness, and just life in general. I searched for people that would act for me than, the way my newfound friends acted for me in eighth grade. Geoff was at that point gone, he had been retaken by his own world, absorbed into college and studies so much to the point that I never got to see him or talk to him anymore. Barbara too had simply disappeared. She was having trouble with her family and what not which therefore caused her to never be online and never be able to talk to me. So with the two last bastions of my sanity gone I immersed myself in friends and activities. Anything to keep me busy. And for a long while it worked. I lived from one moment to the next, always longing, but consistently distracted enough to be able to not allow it to bog me down.
But weakness is my middle name and eventually I broke. Snapped right in half actually. I went through all the previous motions, but I couldn’t seem to snap myself from my depression. By now I’m sure you’re thinking, Christ get the fuck over it. Tammy doesn’t love you and never will. You almost had a kid, happens to a lot of people. Your older brother’s father died in your arms and all you have is regret about not being able to save him, could happen to anyone. Your mother is a senseless bitch who does everything she can to hurt and maim you, whose isn’t? Get the fuck over it you loser. Well, that’s just about what I was saying to myself (I’m fairly cold regarding things like me). Of course, my little self pep talks didn’t help, they only made me feel guiltier, and the depression raged on.
So in my depressive torrent I found someone. It was April actually. A girl named Lisa. Very nice. Small, petite, beautiful. Talked feisty, openly but acted like the good little Christian girl she was. Oh, and psycho. Very, very psycho. Psycho as in, she would just snap some times and scream at everyone, be angry at everyone, or just cry when nothing was wrong. Did this bother me? A little. Did we last very long? No. Why? A couple of reasons. For one she had this deep relationship with her parents. She told her parents everything and let her parents rule her life. And enjoyed it. Really. She liked the “guidance” She liked that security. The first person in my entire life that liked their parents. Which of course posed problems because I did NOT like my mother. She would often chide me and tell me that I should be nicer to my mother, that I shouldn’t hate her. She was so very wrong and I could never tell her of course. My hatred is a dark, deep thing, and is something I share with no one. Not my true hatred anyway. Beyond that, she was very young. Young in the way that she craved to be old. To have known things and to have passed them. This extremely disturbed me because, well, I was old. I had known things, things that hurt and stung, things that bled the life and energy from my heart and I had passed them. Some things I had not passed. Some things I would never pass. And yet at the point I knew them, and therefore I was old. I hated it of course, and she yearned for it, and that was the main reason I left her. She wore what pain she had like a badge. This is what I’ve been through. This is what I have survived. Look at me! Look at me! At some point it turns around, as it did with me. Eventually it gets to the point that the pain is there and gone and is nothing to be proud of, just something to sting you when you think of it. She loved pain and craved drama so that...well, I don’t know why. But all I wanted was simplicity and complacence and I could not find it with her. So I broke up with her and moved on with life.
She and I had ended in June, after I graduated from High School. That’s right. I graduated from high school. I graduated. From High School. A miracle all in itself. But a sad miracle. Too many people did not walk across that stage with us that should have. Geoff, and Zach. Hell, even Mike. And Tammy. Especially Tammy. It was just another night that I long to have changed. But there was nothing I could do but move on. And so I did.
Somewhere in this mess of Stephan’s issues and Stephan’s issues and Stephan’s issues I had accrued one more big issue. The birthday that would liberate me, that would set me free from the tyranny and pain I had lived under for 18 long years was looming ahead of me. And with it, the rift between my mother and I opened even further. Further to the extent that I ended up living in my friends basement. That’s right, I finally moved out. I just could not take her anymore. I could not take her hatred for me. Could not take my hatred for her. It’s something so dark, so ominous that it frightens me about me. It’s something I had to keep in check for the longest time.
I thought things would become easier after high school. And in fact, that summer was pretty laid back. Nothing TOO eventful happened, but of course this is me, which means, no one died, and I kept all my limbs. Ah, but what would memoirs be without highlights? So here they are in color. It was a day in late august that I arrived at my old house, that is to say, the house that my mother currently resided in, to find that it had been broken into, and trashed. It was completely demolished, hate crime style. I came to find out it was my brother. And at the time I was so very angry at him. Not for what he had down, necessarily, but because he had done it and I hadn’t. If I had to be strong, and just accept the pain, just take everything that evil creature that called herself my mother had to give, why couldn’t he? Any number of times I would have loved to just lash out and do what he did and worse. But I didn’t. I kept it inside. I had to. Why didn’t he?
Liz and I....ended up getting together. Didn’t see that one coming, did you? I’m so not good at saying no. I just seem to lack the ability. But it was ok, actually. Liz got a lot older, really fast. She was nicer, and just as fun to be around. Of course, she still had those issues with her depression and what not, but that was ok, because, well, who didn’t? Certainly not I. Actually, Liz and I were doing very well until we broke up. Of course we broke up. Why of course? Well, for one, she’s not Tammy. And for two, well, she moved to Massachusetts. Just kind of left one day because her mother forced her up to her fathers house. Who subsequently kicked her out and forced her to move in with her new found boyfriend up there. Which was kind of ok with me. Because I too had found another girl friend.
Who? Who did I end up with? Well, let’s go over the possibilities. Lisa was still in love with me, but, well, she was just too timid to chase me like some. Jessica had never stopped loving me, but, well, she’s poison and I’ve learned my lesson. Tammy? Yeah. Right. Actually, there were a whole mess of possible girlfriends for me at that time. Some I didn’t mention because even though they “loved” me, they played minor roles at the time. Others I didn’t mention due to simple oversight. But, the fact is. I ended up going out with Laura again. What the hell is that poor fool thinking you are asking yourself is my wager. Well, it’s simple. We were hanging out one day, and out of no where she kissed me. I told her to never, ever do that again. Once again we were hanging out and she kissed me. Once again I told her never ever to do that again. One last time we were hanging out, in her pool, and she kissed me. Well, you know and I know it, I’m weak. So I folded. And we ended up going out, just like that.
Well, if the summer went simple, the rest of year was anything but. I started college and realized the very simple flaw in my plan to go to college. I needed a car. Something to get to college. So, after my first semester, I dropped the idea of college and worked on, well, working to pay for a car and, more importantly, a place to live. College was a lot better than high school in other ways though. One way being that it was almost exactly like high school, with easy professors and easy classes, but in an environment that offered a lot more freedom. If I could get some other simple things down like life, I knew I would easily excel in my classes. But, as life was still beating the crap out of me, I did not.
It really didn’t take long for me to begin second guessing my relationship with Laura. Same old problems really. For one, she could never see me. Her parents imposed a curfew that was absurdly too early, and enforced it vigorously. Her parents hated me, and she hated them, and was always on that constant verge of being kicked out. Which may or may not have been a bad thing. See, she would have to move to her grandmothers house which was an entire bay away from me. Which meant she would never be able to see me. But it also meant that she would be free of those evil creatures that were her parents. Why didn’t she just go? Me. She didn’t want to leave me. Pain. Beyond that, whenever I could see her, all we did was make out. Granted, we talked, I guess. But I talk more with acquaintances than I did with her. We didn’t have sex, mind you. It had become more of a meaningless game to me as time progressed, and especially with Laura. And it hurt, inside. Of course there were times when I wanted it, oh were there times. But my resolve, and my pain won out every time. So all we did was make out when we saw each other, for the short time we saw each other. Which was roughly twice a week. Why didn’t I just break up with her? Twice had I gone out with this girl, and once had I almost been a parent with her. The first time I left her...I felt like shit. I still feel like shit. Scum. The worst of the worst. But mostly I felt guilty. Guilty for what happened, guilty for leaving her. Not a good reason to stay with her, I suppose. But she was fun...when I saw her. Of course, Jeff was fun. And I’d never date him.
So in the end, I broke up with her. I just didn’t want the kind of relationship she was offering. Tammy and I lasted a year a half. Jessica and I lasted two, if you don’t count the week or so that we seperated. After that I have a series of girlfriends that just did not work out, and were not the kind of relationship I wanted, Lisa, Liz, Laura. Hmm, perhaps I should stay away from “L’s”. Just a thought.
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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| The Phone Company is out to Get Me |
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| 03:46am 19/01/2003 |
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mood:  annoyed music: Outkast-So fresh and so clean
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The phone company is out to get me. Obviously. And if they're not, than they are just freaking incompetent. Five days my phone was down, five days I called the phone company. Nothing, no help. Finnally it's back, as you can see, but still, five whole days without the internet, I was going into convulsions! Well, maybe not convulsions...but still... Of course, you probably don't give a damn about my phone conspiracy. I know, I know, all of you are shouting, tell us about life! Alright than, I shall!
Kelley and I are doing great! So great in fact, that it scares the hell out of me. I've never had a realtionship where we've gone so long without problems. None, nadda. I'm afraid. And beyond that, well...I'm falling in love with her. Hard. Really hard. More than.. Well, maybe. I don't know. I might just be denying it to myself because if I am, than it means Tammy was all for nothing. What I felt for her wasn't real. And if that's true, than how do I know what this is? But this feels real. I feel...so...free. Fearless, loved. Loving. Inspired. I AM falling in love with her. What do I do? What can I do but push forward. Not worry about the past. I think I've lived in the past too long. She was safe, you know? Tammy was. I knew it would be nothing but rejection, so there was no harm in trying. But now...? Kelley is so wonderful. She excites me to a spectacular degree. *smiles* I love being with her, I love talking with her. And if love has any meaning in the world, if there is anything right with life, she and I will work out. I will do my best to see it that way, anyway. Well, this is one love-struck individual that's signing out.
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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Read 3 - Post |
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| Interjection |
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| 03:42am 19/01/2003 |
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mood: nostalgic music: The Calling-Wherever you will go
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The summer passed with very little consequence. Of course there was work, and Otakon towards the end of summer, which is always a blast, but beyond that things still stayed relatively the same. And yet, they changed, drastically changed. I still hung out with friends a lot, we would go to the renaissance festival or the movies or whatever. Carolyn had by this point moved to Boston. Geoff had, much to my delight, moved closer to me, not physically but we began to hang out again, and we talked a lot more.
Jeremiah and I were hanging out a bit now, he was a boy a met when, ironically I found out that he had a crush on my than girlfriend Jessica. He was at this point just breaking up with Jarrod, another acquaintance of mine. He was the classic suburban white boy, and I quickly found myself with a crush on him. He wasn’t into me, though, so nothing came of it except a friendship that I valued very highly.
The summer continued, and towards the end of it I learned that Laura, a girl I had known because she dated my manager and because we would hang out often, liked me in some way or another. This was ok, because I too liked her. But it wasn’t like any of my other relationships. Every one before her I had went in with starry dreams of eternal happiness and an everlasting love. This one was something more fickle. I really did like Laura. Like. Laura. I couldn’t see myself with her for the rest of my life, and beyond that we never talked. I suppose that’s a big problem for me. I have to be able to talk to the people I share a relationship with. Jessica and I had talked for hours on end, sitting watching the sun set over the city, just talking and talking. I knew her. Knew. But I’m a difficult person to talk to when you are trying to share intimate things with. The only way I know of to make someone feel better is to make them laugh, I’m never able to see the problem. Such as when someone comes up to me in the hallway, “He makes me sooo angry. I’m pissed off at Bob.” I reply, “Do you want me to beat him up for you? I’ll take Bob in the back, kick his ass for you.” Sure, the person laughs, they feel better than, but I’ve done nothing to help the situation beyond that. And perhaps that good enough for friends, but no for lovers.
So in that way I can understand how Laura and I didn’t talk much. But I still didn’t like it. I longed for a connection between us that was less physical, more mental, emotional. So, coupled with the fact that we talked very little and I wasn’t truly in love with her, I didn’t see a pleasant end to this particular relationship. But I hadn’t come anywhere near imagining the end that actually occurred.
She was pregnant. By me. Me. I had created a child. With Laura. Cold. I was cold. It wasn’t shock. Some people would say it was shock. But I had learned by this point that I was, in the end, a cold, calculating person. So I did all the motions, comforted Laura, told her it would be ok. A child? I couldn’t take care of a child. Neither could she. Still she debated whether or not to keep it. I didn’t want an abortion. I didn’t want her to have an abortion. Men really don’t have any sort of choice in the matter. It’s not the man giving birth. It’s not the man’s right. But it is the man who would have to help raise it. It is the man that would have to help support it. Still, it was no choice of mine. Adoption perhaps. Not abortion. There was too much blood on my hands already.
She decided on abortion. She wanted me to be there. To watch my child die. Our child. I couldn’t do it. A coward’s choice, perhaps. I don’t really know. I’ve looked into the eyes of a man as he died, I’ve seen the fear, the pain, the acceptance and peace. It’s not something I want to witness. It’s not something I could see in my own child. I couldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
We broke up shortly after that. Pain. Her a constant reminder. My stupidity, but no regrets. Regrets would simply tear me up over time. Rip away at me. I’m very broken inside.
I hated it after that. All of it. ALL OF IT! I hated it so much. The fact that love had to be tied into flesh by some primitive or hormonal need. I hated sex, kissing, all of it. Why could you not hold someone in your arms and that be all the love they needed. Why did there had to be that looming expectation of something greater? A kiss before departure. Something that simple now turned me off. Still, you must go through the motions, right?
Cold.
Liz. Elizabeth Holly Roderick. Born two days after Tammy. Beautiful, intelligent, funny, and feisty. Extremely feisty. Moody. Switching almost violently from happy to displeased, from calm to excited. She fell in love with me. I don’t see how. I wasn’t anything like her. Cold, calculating, knowing exactly what to do and what to say to make those around me happy. Dealt with some abstract knowledge that all I knew was nothing, that there was more pain in the world than I could hope to overcome alone. She was so self-centered, focusing in on only what could make her happy. She pissed off so many people around her, confusing the men and deceiving the woman. She lived a life of joys and pains, as if she were always running from some evil presence behind her, so afraid of it that she would ignore all presences in front of her. Run, hope for joy, deal with pain.
She told me she loved me. She asked me to go out with her. I declined. She was an awesome friend, and someone I loved to be around, even if she did treat others a little unkindly. But I loved to make others happy. I loved it so much that I would believe that I was in love with the person I was making happy, so long as it made them happy. And I knew that’s what it was with Liz. Thought. Knew. I couldn’t do that to her. Especially since after Laura I vowed never to tell someone that I loved them (in a serious fashion of course) unless I actually did love them. And beyond that I couldn’t keep up with Liz’ moods. She would change so rapidly, and I couldn’t keep up. |
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| I hate the mall. |
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| 03:32am 11/01/2003 |
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Hello kiddies, todays lesson is entitled "The mall is the root of all evil" Went there with Kelley today. Just to "hang out" Bbbooorrriiinnnggg!!! How could the subtle intricacies of choosing just the right garment possibly compare to the wonders of saving the world from an intergalactic plague? Or preventing an eternal curse from falling upon the land? Besides, I have no fashion sense. There is a reason I wear all black all the time. Am I morbid? No. Depressed, satanic? None of the above. So why, why do I only wear one color, the darkest of them all? Easy. I have a picture of me when I was 14 wearing purple shorts and an orange shirt. I see nothing wrong with they way I look in that picture. THAT is why I don't wear anything but black. So why did I spend my friday in one clothing store after another? Love hurts? *chuckles at his own jest* Actually, she took me to three different lingerie shops...think she's giving me a hint? Lol. *dramatically tosses his hair back* She should know I'm not that kind of girl! Actually...It has been sooo long since I've had sex! I know, I know, you sooo needed to know that, right? Good, I'm glad to help you out! Seriously, it has been 1 year, two months, 19 days, and some odd hours. I remember this for two reasons. For one, it was my birthday. For two it was the incident with Laura. Christ, now I'm refering to it as an "incident" Maybe I'm not cracked up for this whole relationship thing. If not, than I'm going to try my damndest to get cracked up for it. For her, I'd do anything. Look at me, falling so hard for this girl. *shrugs* I really am falling for her. Something fierce. Not a bad thing though...not at all. Has anyone figured out that I wrote this particular entry over many hours while playing eq? hehe, It seems to be a random string of thoughts, nes pas? Oh well, today I have to go to dinner with the evil that calls herself my mother, hopefully get some job hunting in too. Oh, and I can't forget to call Kelley, because I won't be able to see her until monday. :( She works today and tommorrow has to go to Virginia. Also I have to fix aunt jeans computer and straigthen up in order to play palladium tommorrow. Busy day all around :) Better get some sleep for it, though, so until than.
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| Interjection |
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| 03:30am 11/01/2003 |
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mood: nostalgic music: Counting Crows-Big Yellow Taxi
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It was also right around this time that something else began to happen with me. I couldn’t tell anyone this, not after what I had just been through, not with what it would imply. When I slept, I had nightmares. This was normal. But now they were different, they were more like memories than anything else. They seemed so real, so intense. Of course not all of them were real memories, but they seemed so. Than, while I was awake, I would have little flashes. Just like the dreams, except I would see a scene that I’ve lived through before, it would last for a second, and than be gone. They were not, typically, pleasant scenes.
All the while, I was slowly slipping away from my friends. Jessica and I grew ‘closer’. We became more intiment while growing apart. She became my ‘first’ as she claims that I was to her as well. It was strange that we would share so much with each other all the while we were leaving out so much out. My other friends communicated through school, and since I had not that luxury, I was sort of left out of the loop. It made me feel so bad, it was my friends I had relied on to pull me through the hell I had just been through, and now they seemed so far away. All through high school, actually, they would continue to slip away. Actually, now that I reflect upon it, it seems more as if the true friends stayed while the mere acquaintances flaked off.
It was the summer before my junior year. Things began to turn around, though it didn't really feel like it. That is when I lost Jessica. She was attempting suicide, and slipping deeper into her little world of defiance, while I was falling more into place with the bounds of society. I realized that I couldn’t help her, and I realized that by not being able to join her, I was merely hurting her more. I prayed for an excuse to end it, to sever myself from her, so that she may find someone who could be there for her. I was so incredibly sorry that I had to let her go. I still loved her so much, but I wasn’t doing my job as a friend. As a lover I was always there, but as a friend, I was lacking so much, and I didn’t know how to fix that. So when I found out that she was cheating on me with Elliott, I took my excuse and left the relationship. One day, soon after we broke up, Carolyn forced me to have a conversation with Jessica. I couldn’t tell her the real reason that I left her, I couldn’t let her know that I still loved her, because that would leave hope, and I knew how much hope could kill a person. Still, I had the hope that she would get better, though she only got worse. I lost touch with her, as she lost touch with the world. She fell more and more into that state of being against the world, but the world is pretty big, and not easily defeated. She fell away from school, from her friends, from her family. Perhaps falling away from her family was a good thing.
During that summer, I grabbed my first job. Wendy’s. Yay. I started at ten cents above minimum wage, which was not so bad when you look at the fact that I was only 15. It gave me the money to do more things, and I bought a computer, and became that much more independent from my mother, something that made me feel very good. I also finally won the battle to return to school. It only took a year. But I was back in, and I would make the best of it.
Even as things began to look up, I got a job, I returned to school, and I got out of a bad relationship, I didn’t feel complete. I was so lonely, even though I was surrounded by friends. I was so nostalgic for my eighth grade year, the year where Tammy and I where together, and I had friends that wouldn’t separate from me, even at the threat of death. Even though my life was in shambles than, I had exactly what I wanted. Now, however, I longed for every bit of my past, Tammy more than anything. I was still in love with her. In love with her so hard. I hadn’t been able to grasp that she was no longer in my reach. I still had that hope that burned so brightly inside of me. I knew that I needed to rip that hope from me, before it consumed me, before it destroyed me. I tried everything I could to get away from her, to tell myself that it was over, I even stopped talking to her. Even so, that small trickle of hope that one day she would love me again killed me so slowly.
When I returned to school, I was fantastic. Honor roll again. Friends again. I got my license, I had money. It seemed so perfect, but that ever looming hope destroyed all the joy of it. Of course I had fun, my friends and I gather once a week, every week, to just go somewhere, to do something. But I longed for someone that I could tell everything to. And I found her. Her name was Barbara, and she was someone I met online. I was, as usual, looking for a friend to just connect with, someone with whom my secrets I could share. She was so good as listening to what I had to say, and caring, and making me feel better. And I listened to her, and we connected. I had found the friend I had looked for. But she wanted something more, as usual. I should have seen it coming. I still hadn’t learned by this point that people you help make great friends but poor lovers. We didn't last but a few months, distance has a tendency to do that. Still, I'm glad it all happened, we are still friends, and I tell her a lot, though I still feel uncomfortable telling her about my love life, which was practically non-existent anyway.
But with Barbara, I lost Mike. Not that it was that big of a loss to me. Mike thought I stole her away from him. He began to scream and threaten, and yell at her. That was simply unacceptable. To hear the things he said to her, it was ghastly. I told him that he would have to stop. He refused. It was during this time that I realized how little I actually had come to like him. We were in similar situations, with our families, and our girlfriends, but he was nothing like me, and I realized it than. He was a cold manipulator, and I couldn’t do that. I let people live their own lives, while he refused to think that anyone could live their lives better than how he thought that they should be lived. I ended it, than. Our friendship. He threatened me with what he knew about me. He said that he would tell my mother. Hell, I had more on him, than he had on me, so I called his bluff, and he backed off. I tried very often never to speak to him again.
During this year, I received an email from Tammy. Of course we talked occasionally, extremely seldom, yet, it was a surprise to receive this email. Attached to it was a school assignment she had to do. A sort of biography. In it, I found out things about her that I never knew, and I felt so bad that I wasn’t adequate enough for her to tell me. I was crushed to find out that what she was hiding from me was not beauty, but pain. And that I couldn’t see that, nor help her.
As I was going through the year, I felt Geoff slip away from me. This scarred the crap out of me. He was the one person I could tell everything to. He kept me alive through it all. As I neared my first end of a year of high school, I reflected back and realized that I had always someone to hold my hand through things. As I had the turmoil of eighth grade, I had Tammy. As I went into the hospital, I had Jessica. As I went back into school, I had Barbara. Beyond all that, through everything, I had Geoff, and I was so grateful, and so glad to have him as a friend. I prayed that we wouldn’t end up apart, that we would keep in touch no matter what. And we did, basically. We didn’t see each other in school anymore, but that didn’t matter. We lost the superficial parts, the games, the bull shit conversations, but he was still there when I needed him. And I did need him a lot, whether he knew it or not.
Carolyn said something to me towards the end of the school year that really shattered my perspective of myself. She said that I only see friends when I need to use them, and that she had gotten used to it. I always thought, and in fact still do, that I had always done my best to be there for my friends. A lot of my friends were my friends for that simple reason, that I choose to believe in them when there was an entire world out there that did not. Carolyn and I grew apart very quickly after that.
Even so, as my first graduation from a year of high school neared, I began to be attracted to another woman. I thought that most of the reason was because I wanted someone I could share all the fears I had about leaving school for the summer, all the fears I had about losing my friends. Of course I always had you, my dear friend paper, but it simply wasn’t the same. But that small trickle of hope that still persisted in defiantly running through me kept me single, and I tried my best to seek comfort from Geoff and Barbara. Still, I was afraid of the coming horizon, and sleep became sparse, as did eating.
Even than, it disturbed me that I could be attracted to someone other than Tammy. Yet, she astounded me with her innocence and acceptance. She felt to me as if she was someone who could actually accept who I was. Not who I wanted the world to think I could be. And I cared for her, too. I wanted to know more about her.
Its not that I wasn’t eating or sleeping, it was that I simply lost appetite. You know how when you are really excited about something, and you can’t eat or sleep the night before? That’s how it was for me. Still, the end came without much excitement, and I graduated, for the first time, from a year of high school. And it was after the school year that Geoff said something to me that I will never forget. He said that he wondered how much Tammy wanted to be our friends versus how much she simply needed ones. That hurt me so much to think that I wasn’t enough of a friend to Tammy. It made sense, however, as soon as she got to Columbia, she lost contact with most of us, yet gained all of these new friends. More than once I thought that it wasn’t distance that separated us, but the fact that she was perfect, and I couldn’t live up to that. It was a very disturbing thought.
Beyond that, there was a revelation I made. I couldn’t help her. Whether it was because she wouldn’t let me, or because she didn’t want me to, or if it was simply because I could not do it, I could not help her. And when she moved to Columbia, she found the help she needed. She found the friends that I found in eighth grade. More than that, she found herself. It simply didn’t involve me. She wrote me an email, and said that she knew I wanted my distance, but would always be there for me. For once, it didn’t give me the hope that destroyed me so often. I knew she was gone now. No longer any chance. It was the closure I was looking for. Of course, I was still in love with her. True love never dies, neigh? But, she wasn’t in love with me, and I could face that, than, and move on. Good, life is boring with no one for you to love.
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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| Shit keeps dripping from ceiling |
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| 04:00am 08/01/2003 |
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mood:  moody music: Bangles-Hazy Shade of Winter
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Well, Laura found out yesterday about Kelley and I. Who told her? Lisa. Oh yeah, this is getting all sorts of fun. Who told her? Well, I haven't tracked it down that far yet. *shrugs* Maybe it doesn't matter, but I think whoever it was most likely specifically starting trouble. And it'd be good to know who is specifically starting trouble against me. Anyway, she flipped out on her in the cafeteria and starting yelling and shit. Thankfully there was no physical altercation. *shrugs* The entire fucking world is out to get me, I swear to the gods. Well, at least I can understand why Laura is upset at Kelley, better than I can Steph anyway. Amuway, I'm not sure how Kelley is hodling up with all this. It's alot to put her through, and I'm really pissed she had to go through it. Being mad at me is one thing, but... She's really hurt, and there's nothing I can do. She thinks it's her fault, and it's not. I wanted to be with her. She makes me happy, for once there is someone that makes me happy. Me. I don't know, I suppose we'll just stick it out and play it from there...
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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| Interjection |
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| 03:59am 08/01/2003 |
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mood: nostalgic music: DAVID WON'T STOP SNORING!!!!!
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Which is how, I suppose, I came to be going out with someone new. Jessica Morsell. I met her in the summer before my freshmen year, yet, we never talked. In fact, we didn't truly know each other until high school began that fall. And even than, I didn't like her that much. Strange, I remember her going out with almost everyone of my male friends before me. It never once occurred to me that I liked her. You see, I'm inept not only to other people's feelings, but to my own as well. Yet, I can remember the exact day that I realized that I was falling for her. I was talking on the phone with her, about typical teenager stuff. Homework, girls, guys, etc. And than we got to the subject about what we found attractive in a potential mate. I don't remember putting it quite that elegantly, however. Anyway, the topic turned to this, and as I described what I thought I found attractive in a person, I realized how many of those qualities I could find in Jessica. She seemed so desirable to me, than. This was further into the school year, of course. Not only had Tammy and mine relationship been reduced to mere "hello's" she had found another boyfriend. So Jessica and I became close...
At this same time, things grew worse still at home. I was disobeying my mother at every chance I got. She was using my newfound close friendships against me, in threats of preventing me from seeing them unless I did what she said. And than she turned around and called me manipulative. She made me sick with anger. Everything was boiling down to one point. Events took place that eventually condemned me. Once, when I was burning some documents on my personal psychological make-up, my mother came home early, and accused me of arson. Than, I wrote a harmless short story about suicide. It was supposed to be for an audition so that I may enter a creative writing program at the college. It got me in, I can say that much. I began to stay out later and later. Needless to say, things were not going well at all.
Jessica became more and more a consumption of my life. Not in the negative sense, not at all. I thought at the time that I loved her. I suppose even now I know I loved her. But she was just a distraction. Just a distraction from Tammy, the woman I was in love with. Even so, as my life degenerated into a bubbling mess, it was Jessica that held me through it, and not Tammy. Whether she knows it or not, I will always love her for that.
It eventually boiled down to one fateful day. One day I will remember for the rest of my life. Every moment, every detail is permanently etched into my memory where it will remain for the rest of my life. It was a school day, two days after the Columbine shooting in Colorado. There was a service learning field trip that day, and they were having us do yard work in some elderly ladies yard. I had bought a big lunch the night before, and it was difficult to eat it all by myself, even with the aid of my friends. So, deciding to be nice, I offered it to the two other groups my particular class had broken off into. Apparently, they thought I was trying to poison them. How the hell they thought that, I have no idea. But they did, so the chaperon came over to my friends and I and began to ask questions. Some people ask me why I am always on guard. That would probably be because whenever I'm not on guard I get screwed. Oh yes, the chaperon began to ask questions, which somehow led to the Columbine incident. I'm not really sure how. But it did. My answers, I suppose, were a bit Darwinist. A bad opinion from a former age. I don't remember exactly how they went. Something about how everything that happens to someone is deserved. And how everything, no matter how bad it seems, always served a purpose. I said that I thought the Columbine incident would stop a lot of the harassments that occur in high schools across the country. Perhaps, that's a bit too radical for some. I wouldn't know.
Anyway, that small, simple event sent my life into a dark spiral that lasted for months and never left. That night the principal called my mother. They wanted to have a "meeting" with her and I. So, I went. At the meeting the principal said a lot of parents called in to complain about me. Their kids were "frightened" by me. The comments I said were inappropriate. They asked me very kindly not to return to school. I told them very kindly to kiss my ass. I was prepared for a long battle with the school system. In fact I had seen one coming for a very long time as they continued to discriminate more and more. I was not prepared for what actually happened though. Privately, the principal had a talk with my mother. She told her that perhaps I was too unstable, maybe drugs were involved. If not, than perhaps I needed psychiatric help. Ah, finally something my mother could work with to get me put away. She took me to a small clinic after the meeting. I wasn't aware of why until I got there. They did a blood test on me, not saying what for, and I knew it was to check for drugs. I knew I would be clean. I was clean.
Having had a drug test, I thought we would be going home. Yet, we didn't. We went somewhere much more sinister. A hospital. Oh, no, it doesn't seem that bad, does it? Well, it was. I went into the emergency entrance with my mother. I had no idea what was going on. My mother went into the nurses station, and soon a security guard joined them. It was than, exactly than, that I knew what was happening. I knew exactly what was happening. I was.... afraid. I'm almost never afraid. Death doesn't scare me. Embarrassment doesn't scare me. This scared me. They thought I was crazy. They wanted to lock me up. They thought I didn't know. Well, by this point, I did. But what could I do? I could run, I thought. I had friends, very loyal friends. But that would only hold for so long... Where could I go? Nowhere is what I realized. So I stayed. I thought that perhaps I would simply wait a few days, wait for it all to blow over. I knew that I wasn't crazy, I thought that the doctors would see I wasn't crazy as well. Apparently, they know the same things I knew. Everybody is crazy. Only those that have money, or can get money from the government, are crazy enough to care about.
I was put into a room with sleek metal walls. Two security guards blocked my exit. Fat, rent a cops with that sort of complacent look on their faces like they owned the world; when you knew that they owned nothing. They told me to be calm, and to change from my clothing into a hospital gown. I didn't want to comply, I wanted to kick some ass, but I did as I was told, I was going to be a good child. They than wanted more blood and for me to pee in a cup. I wondered how many drug tests I was going to get in one day. Than came the waiting. I cant explain to you how insanely boring it is to be left in a metal room, no way out, wearing nothing but a hospital robe, and nothing to do but lie down. The room was watched with camera's. The door was about half a foot of steel. So I waited. I dosed a bit. I waited some more. They offered me some food, but I wasn't hungry, and I wasn't sure if they felt like slipping me some sedatives into my food. A social worker came in and explained that I would be going to a mental hospital. Taylor Manor mental health facility actually. They said that it would be a while before my insurance could be worked with, and longer for an ambulance to be arranged to take me. I had no way of keeping time while alone in my room. But I was told later that it was 9 hours of waiting. That was the worst part. I was scared, but I refused to let them know. I would not let my mother break me. I would not fold to her will, even in the face of another incarceration. I wouldn't. That determination, that need to keep myself against her was all that kept me alive.
The drive to the hospital was not too eventful. Easy, actually. It was good to get out and see the world that one last time. I knew that it would be my last look for a while, and I did my best to take advantage of it. I took in all the scenes that swirled past my window, attempted to commit them to memory. Commit is a funny word. I committed the scenes as I was committed. A bit of irony I suppose. I arrived at the hospital late. Around 9:30 or so. It may not sound late, but it was a half an hour before lights out for them. I still had nothing but my hospital robe. So as they unloaded me off the ambulance and into the reception room, my mother was with me. I spoke with one of the evening nurses. Some basic questions, some i.q. tests, etc. After it was all done, my mother was gone, and I was left in an unfamiliar lobby with unfamiliar people that were about to get a lot more familiar. It was the first day of five an a half months of my life that haunt me every single day.
The first few days went fine, I suppose. I truly didn't expect to be there for more than perhaps a weekend, or a week. They are the easiest to remember. Those are the times before the medication. There were quite a few people there, at the time. Directly after Columbine, the mental hospitals filled with lightning speed. The days were structured, you woke up at a certain time, you ate at a certain time, etc. There was no variation from the schedule. The staff was never off by much. We had games, and groups were we learned that "drugs were bad" and "how to be assertive" Basically nap time, you just had to sit up.
Now, when I think back to my first night at Taylor Manor, it doesn't seem to look the same way in my memory as it did when I first got there. Yet, I will do my best to describe the setting. There was a main entrance for patience, it was different from the one used by the staff. When you entered, you would be in a hallway. On your right, there were two doors, on your left, one. At the very end of the hall was a door, the door I suppose you could say. Your first stop is to the door on the left. A bit of a waiting room. Empty save for about eight chairs arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. One window with a thick screen covering it. It is here that I was interviewed, questioned, etc. Do you like your home life, have you ever thought about killing anyone? Yourself? "Nah, but I think it would be fun to ram this pen through your eye, Christ, stop asking stupid questions." Than came the educational exam. I.Q. tests, etc. Boring shit. After that, they take you out of that room, back into the hallway. This is where you say goodbye to whomever was bringing you. For me, it was my mother. "Thanks a lot." I turn, tears forming, and walk with head high towards my fate.
Through the door, the one that led into the little lobby area that would be my new home. At first, when you walk in, it seems normal. In front of you there is a square table, probably 4 X 4. One chair on each side. Than, against the wall is a television, a super Nintendo underneath. Under that, a bookshelf, somewhat barren. To your left a lobby looking area, three very padded couches, arranged in a rectangle, all facing towards a large big screen television. Behind the far couch, a ping pong table. Curtains behind the ping pong table, covering the window that allows view to the inner portion of the hospital, an open area with a pool, surrounded by the walls of the hospital. To your right, however, you see the Plexiglas of the nurses station, paperwork inside. And the first thing you notice, before anything else, is that everything, everything was locked. Every door. Every heavily screened window. Everything. To get anywhere you had to wait for a staff member to open the door. I still sometimes wait for people to open the doors for me, thinking they are locked. Sometimes I just stand dumbly in front of my door, wondering where my staff person is to open it. Neigh, to your right, than to the left from there, was a long hallway. Each side had doors dotting it. Rooms, for the patients. The first rooms were for the girls, the next were for the boys. Beyond that, another door, another lock.
The first night was strange. All of my clothing was left in the emergency room. I only had on a hospital gown. It was a bit.... drafty. When I walked in, most of the patients were in gym, there were only two girls on the "unit"; the little lobby and room area we called our own. There were actually five units. Unit 61 was the adolescents unit. 15-18 year olds. I was fourteen. 61 was my unit. 62 was the all boys unit, it smelled bad, was filled with morons, and was not somewhere you wanted to end up. I was fortunate enough to avoid that one. Unit 63 was the younger kids unit, 10-14 year olds. Than there was the adult unit, and the geriatrics unit, the older folks. As I said, I was on unit 61, the adolescents unit.
Most of the patients were in the gym. The only two that had stayed behind on the unit were two girls who were on SPII. SP stood for "Suicidal Precautions". SPI meant you had your shoe laces taken away. Yippee. I was on SPI when I first arrived. SPII meant you could not sleep in your room without supervision, and you could not leave the unit. SP III meant you could not leave arms length from any staff member at any time. Showers were supervised on SP II and III.
The two girls were playing cards, spades if I remember correctly. I had to sit down while a nurse checked me out, writing down my blood pressure, pulse, etc. By the time she had finished, the patients had returned, and it was "quiet time"; time when we had to be in our rooms, and not too loud. It only lasted for a half an hour, and people basically used the time to take showers. The nurse would come around and pass out the meds; the medications. I wasn't on any medications at the time, and I didn't really want a shower, I had no clothes to change into. So, I went to my room. Now, the rooms themselves weren't as bad as they are typically portrayed. There were two beds, mounted to the wall, really crappy mattresses in them; foam I believe. Most people had their own blankets to use, and their own sheets. There were typically two desks, and a window either looking out of the hospital to the woods, or in the hospital to the pool. With a closet, and a bathroom with shower, sink, and toilet, the room was complete.
My first room mate, I went through many, was quite strange. I don't believe he was as mentally disturbed as mentally retarded. I believe he had brain damage of some sort, was a slow kid. He had "violent" tendencies on the outside, and that's why he was there. A pretty neurotic guy, had his own toilet paper, refused to let me borrow his slippers. Adam was tall, about 6 foot, dark hair, dark skin, I would venture a guess that he came from a Mediterranean country. Fun guy sometimes, he had a game boy color, and pokemon, which pretty much occupied most of my time during my first weeks. The first night was easy enough. As I had said, we went into our rooms for quiet time. Only those who were "good" during the day could come out after that for a half an hour. Others had to go to bed at that time. Since I hadn't been there, they gave me the benefit of the doubt. Snacks were served at this time, and we could basically do what we pleased in the lobby area. After the half an hour out time, it was 10:00. That was when we retired to our rooms.
The time in Taylor Manor Mental Health Facility passed in a dizzying blur. I was quickly placed on medication, neurotin, resperidal, and Zoloft. I felt so high, all the time. Every inhibition I once had, everything I had fought so long to hold back and repress, came gushing forward when I began these medications. My hatred and anger for the mother that I had only been forced to love by birth came spilling through the barriers that were so chemically torn down. I suppose that's why I was there for so long, I could not hide the anger, the hatred I had for her. I wanted her dead, dead and out of my life. And for once, for that little period of time, I had the lack of presence to tell her so. It was an exhilarating feeling, to know that my mother finally knew what I actually thought of her. Later, my psychologist would ask me what I thought of why I took such a violent turn in the hospital. I knew the answer. I knew that what I said in the hospital was what I really felt, and that the only reason it came out than and not all the other times was because of the medications. I never told her, though. I don't think I told anyone.
As I said, my time in Taylor Manor was a blur. The medications had me so messed up, I destroyed things between Jessica and I. That's when I think I lost her. While I was in the hospital. I knew she met some other guy, an Elliott. She didn't think I'd be there for her. That's when I first should have realized that she would never accept me as enough, she could never trust me to hold her. And so she sought others, and she found them. Of course, when I returned from the hospital, it was all joyous reunions. In fact, we even got together and lasted for several months. She was still seeing Elliott through all of this. I hadn't known.
The one thing I remembered most out of the entire experience was the doors. Every door had its lock. Every door prevented you from going any farther. Sometimes, I still stop and wait for someone to unlock doors for me, forgetting that they are not locked. Besides that was the inability to contact my friends. I was not allowed to call them, and I so desperately needed to. My mother would only allow it through her, and come on, how do your friends tell you about themselves with your mother on the phone? I could write to them, but my mail was screened. I was so cut off from them, and that hurt me so bad. It burned inside me, and without them, I felt that I was lost.
When I finally had the clear sense to refuse my medications for a prolonged period of time, I soon was taken out of the hospital. I resumed my role as my mothers son, and that granted me the exit I had been longing for. Of course, a stay in a mental hospital will haunt someone. Especially someone seen as so miscreant as myself. When I was released, the school would not let me back in. I went through my entire sophomore year on home schooling as the school system tried to put me into a special ed private school. I was so fucking tired of being called different, or crazy, that I refused any such thing, and so my legal battle was waged. All in all, it took a year to get me back into public school.
I didn’t notice as soon as I was released from the hospital, but soon after. I was petrified of small spaces. I simply couldn’t do them anymore. Closets, small rooms, etc. If it was small simply because it was crowded with people, that was fine, I could handle being surrounded by people. And, in fact, being in small spaces is much easier with someone else there. That is why I can no longer camp without someone else in the tent with me. Even the smallest things such as a blanket being tossed over scare me, as I found out over Carolyn’s one day when someone threw a blanket on top of me, and I simply froze up, scared stiff. |
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| Afraid of not being afraid |
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| 10:26pm 06/01/2003 |
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mood:  loved music: Duncan Sheik-Barely Breathing
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Today I was once again blessed with the angelic presence of Kelley, my girlfriend. MY girlfriend. *smiles* To be able to say that... I know what you're thinking. Every relationship starts this way. But that's not true! My relationships don't usually start this way. Lisa started with reservations about her issues and inability to cope with stress. Laura started with guilt and more guilt. Jessica started with relief, relief from the pain of not having Tammy. Liz started with...happiness. But she's gone, what can I say? Tammy, Tammy started with a feeling of pure joy, eternal bliss. A feeling of invulnerability against all hurts, all wrongs. Everything. Kelley, unlike most of my girlfriends in a long time, makes me feel good. She's gone, and I don't feel guilty, I don't feel angry. I don't feel like I'm losing my mind. I feel...sated. Like I've found someone who makes me happy, and for whom I do the same. We will last. I'm sure of it. Only one thing could mess that up. And she doesn't care anymore. It's quite possible she never did. But for now, I'm going to go read a book. Mything Persons, I deffinetely recommend it to all. And I'm going to be content.
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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| Interjection |
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| 04:33am 06/01/2003 |
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mood: nostalgic music: Stained-Outside
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I entered eighth grade with very little friends, and no one I could talk to about my problems. Around the second marking period, however, I met a boy that seemed familiar to me. I knew him from summer camp and Boy Scouts. Well, we began to talk, and a good friend was born. He was big, and strong. He was funny, and we liked all the same things. He taught me how to play Magic: The Gathering, and chess. And although he was so strong, he too was often picked on. Jeff didn't seem to have the courage to stand up for himself as much as I did. And so he learned too. We grew up with each other in a few short months. Neither of us had ever had any real friends. I had never before had anyone spend the night over my house. I had never before hung out with anyone, anywhere. I never really had much courage to stand up for myself other than defending myself from physical attacks. Together we found strength.
Now I became the chaos gate. It was a simple enough concept for me. For so long, I had let others tell me who I was. My mother, the children from school. I stood up to some of them, but inside, I believed I was the piece of crap they claimed, and that hurt me so much. When I became the chaos gate, I sat back and realized that no matter what happens, no matter what trials I endured, I would always have to believe in myself. I would be the factor that believed in himself instead of the world around him. Chaos. But not so forceful. The gate that chaos entered the world. I became the chaos gate.
Soon, I met another friend. Well, actually, Mike called me. We never met before than. We never exchanged any sort of conversations. He just called. He said that he saw me in class, and thought I looked cool, and so he decided to call me. So we began to talk. And he introduced me to Geoff, and Mike S., and Mike C. He taught me a lot about computers, and he was easy to talk to. I told almost everything to him. And I owed him a lot. For he introduced me to Geoff. At one point in my life, after middle school, I had a crush on Geoff. He was so smart, and calm, and brilliant all the time. He never seemed to falter. And he cared so much. He was the only one that I told everything to besides one other. I wanted to be just like him so much. He seemed to have everything. He was the best student in the class, he was always the smartest. I regard him as my closest friend. For most of my life, I was afraid to tell anyone any of my problems. When I did, people just seemed to use it against me. I didn't want to tell my friends, however, for I didn't wish them to be brought down by my burdens. But Geoff just seemed so strong, I could tell him anything. And I did.
Things really started to pick up for me. I met a lot of new friends that I still am friends with now. I began to stay after school for activities. I joined chorus, and the after school chorus. From there, I joined all county choir. In all county choir, there was a girl that perhaps I should have met. But I didn't, and it wasn't until an advanced choir trip to local elementary schools did I meet her. I could see her sitting and reading a book called animorphs. She was being pestered by Mikey Dains on the bus to the schools, whom always seemed good at pestering people, but always in good nature. He was a cool kid. And in the uniform she was wearing she seemed so beautiful. Not just the way she looked, but the way she was dealing with Mikey, and the way that she moved, and the way that she smiled slightly as she read, it was beautiful. I interjected, and told Mikey to stop bothering her. I sat down next to her, and we began to talk. Mike knew her as well, and after the performances, we ate lunch with each other. I instantly fell in love with her. She was the first person I had ever simply fell in love with by simply looking at them. In fact, she was the first and only person I had ever fallen in love with.
I was so young at that point. Ignorant, really, to the ways of having a social life. I was never really socially inept in the first place. And this whole relationship thing was scary. So, Tammy and I never officially went out, it was a sort of relationship anyway. But I lived each day to see her whenever I could, at lunch, before school, after. I called her, and we talked. And I told her things. Things I never told anyone. Not even Geoff. She knew me better than anyone at that point. And I wanted to know her. But she didn't like to talk about herself very much. And that was ok. Tammy never seemed to be as open in public as she was alone. I knew that she held something inside her, something very beautiful. I knew that when I saw her sing. I just wanted her to be able to show the world that beauty.
I remember picture perfectly, every second I was with her. I remember the day she got sick in the hall, and I had to half-carry her to the nurse. I remember the day she accidentally kicked Brian in the nuts. I remember the day I gave her the gold bear ear rings. I remember the day of the choir/band field trip to Kings Dominion. The field trip where Mike, her and I hung out with each other all day. It was heaven. I regard it as the best day of my life. We rode the rides, we got wet, and most of all, we talked, and got to know each other better. And on the way home, it was dark, and the day was a long one. I sat next to her, and she fell asleep in my arms. I didn't ever want to let go of her. I was so torn up when I got home. I knew it had to end. I knew the day couldn't last forever. But, I found out that day that soon Tammy was moving. And it tore me up inside. And I cried.
Towards the end of eighth grade, I met another person who would eventually become a friend. I saw some boys picking on a girl about her hair. As I have always had thick, long hair, I felt bad for her, and told the boys off. They left her alone, and we became friends.
Things at home were getting steadily worse at this point. My mother would verbally, and emotionally abuse my brother and I on a daily basis. At one point, my mother went off on me because she had thought I left some eggs out overnight. As it turns out, the eggs had only been out for a half an hour, and it was my brother who left them out. But she was screaming at me, and yelling, and than she slapped me. To keep myself from hitting her back, or saying anything that would get me in trouble, I ran outside. Through the porch. My porch door is one that has the top half of glass, and the bottom half of metal. Well, I didn't know the door was locked, and I pushed it, with my left hand on the window part, and my right hand on the bottom portion. My left arm went through the glass. I than kicked the door open, and walked down my porch steps. It was than that I looked at my arm and saw that I was cut, really bad. That one scene plays over and over in my head sometimes. Just looking down, seeing the open wound, the tissue, the muscle, the flaps of skin. It had not began to bleed at that point. But I screamed. Not from the pain, but from the sight. It was MY arm! I could see the muscles move as I clenched my fist! And than it began to bleed. It was gushing down my arm. My arms was covered in blood. I tried to get back inside, but my mother had locked me out. I was screaming, "Mom, mom, I'm bleeding! Let me in! Let me in!" And I was crying at this point to. But she wouldn't open the door for me. And I remember what she said. "You made the choice to run outside. You live with it." My brother, whom felt bad because it was his mess I got in trouble over, unlocked the door and opened it. My mother screamed at him for it, too. I tried to get inside, and all that my mother said was to not bleed on her carpet. I went to the bathroom, cleaned out the wound, or wounds actually, since the glass shattered, and I was cut in more than one place. I applied the appropriate first aid on myself, as my brother called 911, and my mother just watched. Eventually, I rode the ambulance to the hospital, got the stitches and that was that.
A short time after I got the stitches out of that scar, things were deteriorating once again. My mother was not satisfied with anything my brother and I did. One night she blew up on us, thinking one of us stole money from her. She tore apart my brothers room, ripping out the drawers, tossing the dressers to the ground, ripping his clothes out of his closet. My room was next. My brother tried to stop her, and got in her path of destruction. She told him to move, and when he didn't, she tried to choke him. I was, at that point, not good at standing up for myself against my mother. But, I would not let her hurt my brother like that. And he was purple, gasping, asking for my help. So, I pulled her off of him, and tossed her onto the bed. I than held her down, while my brother called the police on her. When the police got their, she weaved a little story about me choking her on the bed. My brother was too afraid to say anything. So my mother pressed charges on me, and I went to jail. It was only for the weekend, however, as I went to court on the following Monday, and was released into my mothers custody. It was the worst weekend. At that point, I had come to rely a lot on my friends. They were always there for me, and I was unable to speak with them while incarcerated. I vowed at that point to not let my mother control me ever again.
At the end of eighth grade, there was a dance. For those graduating from middle school, as I was. I was so young, and ignorant at that point in my life. I went, and Tammy went, and some friends of mine and her's went. But I was never much of a dancer, I just liked the environment shared at such events. So I simply sat, and made small talks, and occasionally was dragged onto the dance floor. Things seemed so surreal at that point. I remember things as if it was a dream. There were three slow dances. Three chances to hold Tammy close to me, to embrace her before school ends, before she moves. But, no, I was young, and stupid. And scared. Scared to let anyone mean that much to me. So those three dances went by. I remember looking up during one of them, and seeing her, sitting down. Wanting, wishing I could find the strength and courage to just ask her. To let her know how much she meant to me. But I wouldn't allow that to happen. I was stupid. And the dance ended. I regretted not asking her. I regretted it than, and everyday after that. Every single day.
The last day of eighth grade, my friends and I held an after school party. We walked around the town, bought pizza, talked, and planned our summers. We wondered about the future, and reflected on the past. We spent the time, happy that we were than high school students. But one by one, we all had to leave. First Mike, than Jeff, than Mikey. Than Tammy. I remember the last few moments. Her father came to pick her up. By that time, we had made our way to the library. I hugged her close to me, not wanting to let go. I knew that she was moving far away. And I wouldn't get to see her as often. So I held her. In a moment that seemed to span an eternity, but lasted for but a moment. And than, she was gone. Geoff was last to leave. I stayed, and walked around. And, I cried.
Between eighth grade, and ninth grade, summer was pretty dull. Without Tammy, it just didn't seem, very fun. I went to a college for part of the summer to study creative writing. It was incredibly fun, but it was without Tammy. I began thinking of ways to get her to go next year. But, as all things end, so did that little trip, and I had to return home. Once again, the shock of returning home did not bode well for me. At least I could call and speak with Tammy.
Times grew darker as I entered my freshmen year of high school. My teachers, for the most part, were fools. They had no idea what the hell they were doing. Those that did, had not the most persevering of personalities. Things at home became progressively worse. The absolutely worse part, however, was that Tammy and I began to drift apart. She called less and less, and we saw and spoke to each other even less than that. And much to my shame, I began to think of other people. |
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| Shit hits fan, splatters all over walls |
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| 02:47pm 05/01/2003 |
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mood:  distressed music: Transplants-Diamonds and Guns
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Well, last night Steph came over, and Jeff knew but didn't tell me. *sighs* Anyway, Kelley was here too. She was too afraid to tell Steph, so I took her outside and told her. She freaked out, of course, and stormed inside and threw Kelley across the room. She was pissed. *shakes head* I didn't think she'd lose it like she did. But there's history between those two, history that neither feels obliged to tell me. *sighs* I really didn't want to lose Steph as a friend. But I'm glad I have Kelley. She makes me happier and happier as days wear on. I'm really not used to that. Not used to getting happiness in any other way than seeing other people happy. We talk. We have fun. WHY IS THAT WRONG? Why is it I'm getting so much fucking slack for breaking up with Laura? What did we do? Make out. All the time. Talk? No. Go do things? No. Just made out. THAT'S NOT A FUCKING RELATIONSHIP! Not to me anyway. And now I'm with someone I'm happy to be with, and by christ, I didn't even pretend to be romantically interested in Steph. I didn't lead her on. I didn't make her think anything was going to happen. Why do I have to feel guilty that she's pissed at me? Why DO I feel guilty that she's pissed?
Fuck it. I trudge on. I guess. I got to go. |
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| Interjection |
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| 06:52am 04/01/2003 |
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mood: nostalgic music: Beethoven- Fur Elise
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My mother could not live with her father forever, and we ended up moving. This did not bother me in the least, it offered fresh opportunities, and fresh chances. Also, throughout my entire stay there, my mother was almost never home. And when she was, she seemed to like to instill upon me that nothing I did was good enough for her. She forced me to take responsibilities that I was simply to young to have. She forced me to grow up, and she stole my childhood, my innocence. I hated her for it. So a new house seemed like a welcome change. It wasn't. I saw my mother more and more in this new house, and instead of growing closer, things only got worse. I began to sink further and further into a depression that seemed to exist since I can remember. At one point, I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. I was out for three days....The sad thing, the really sad thing is that no one noticed. It was during the summer, and I tried to avoid my mother as often as possible anyway. So I went three days, unconscious, drifting from dreams, to nightmares, to hallucinations.
It is than that I began to write. It didn’t really do anything for me, it wasn’t something I was incredibly fond of at all. It was simply something I thought I was good at. Of course, as I built upon my skills, I grew better, and I grew to like it more and more. This later aided me a lot, as you, my dear friend paper, are often around when little others are.
Between sixth and seventh grade, I went on a trip to Canada as a student ambassador. It was a real learning experience. It lasted for three weeks, and during those weeks, I had my first girlfriend. Her name was Jessica, but everyone called her Rose. So did I. She was quiet, and lived, in relationship to me, a good deal away. Still, for those three weeks, I had my first kiss, and such. It was so much fun. Being away from home. Being able to just hang out with some kids. And when the three weeks were over, so was Rose and I, for she was states away. There was simply no way. So after the happiness, after the memories, and the ecstasy, I went home. And I went into my room, and I cried.
In seventh grade, I had my first boyfriend. No one from the school, rather, a summer camp I attended. He was cute, and nice, and we did some things that I had never done before. When he broke up with me, because I was too "quiet", I was shaken, and I vowed not to share myself with anyone that closely ever again. He only used me I had determined. |
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| BBBOOORRREEEDDD |
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| 06:34am 04/01/2003 |
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mood:  bored music: Jimmy Eat World-Praise Chorus
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I wasn't going to post, but gods, I'm bored as all hell. NOTHING TO DO!!! I guess that's what I get for fucking with my sleep schedule. But, hell, I can't help that I'm getting tired earlier. NOOOO, stupid circadian rythms, I'll beat you into submission.
Actually, it's really freaking spooky, I'm getting more and more fatigued by doing less and less. Probably not eating right. But how unhealthy can a diet of fried rice and potato chips really be? It works for one billion chinese people, and who are we to argue with that?
I hate the chinese. Now, I know what you are thinking, racist bastard. Right? Well, that's not true at all! Wait, yes it is. Actually, no, I don't discriminate. Yes, I hate the chinese. Why? Is it because they are chinese? No. It is because they fall under a group of people that I despise. And that would be: People. All of them. Even you. Die.
Being bored at 6 in the morning does not do well for my mood. Remind me not to post anymore at this time. Eh, you probably won't, lazy bastard. See what I mean?
Threw out some more job apps yesterday. Yay, all sorts of fun. Kinda. *shrugs* I probably won't get any nibbles, I'm such a loser. And so are you, so don't laugh. Hey, the Kelley thing is working out OK so far. She's really greater than I had thought at first. *smiles* I think this one will last. Fuck, I think they all will last. Well, except Laura, I knew that wouldn't. What the hell was I thinking? Oh, yeah, I remember. I was thinking: Stephan, you're a loser. Well, I suppose I should cross my fingers and hope everything turns out ok, but I doubt it will. This is the calm before the storm. No one knows about us yet.
Of course, we don't even know about each other. I mean, I haven't asked her out. She hasn't said yes. Right now, she's just someone that comes over, holds me, talks to me, about me, about her. And we kiss. Yeah, I like that. I like when she holds me more.
WHERE THE HELL IS THE SUN? It hasn't shone itself in days! It's been all sorts of cloudy and rainy, and all around miserable. What the hell am I complaining about, I never go out in it anyway.
*shrugs* I guess there's nothing else. I'm gonna go beat the crap out of Legacy of Legaia now. I don't care what any of you say, that game rocks.
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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| Interjection |
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| 07:30am 03/01/2003 |
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mood: nostalgic music: Dream-He loves you not
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When I was ten, I received the first of what would turn out to be a series of scars. It was during a slight snow storm that had rolled in. My cousin became very angry at me and threw a snow shovel at my head. It left a three inch scar, and I had to be stitched up. The sight of all that blood is not a comforting memory for a 10 year old.
It is around this time I became the prince of the moon. I received a palace there, and pledged to myself that one day I would learn to fly and I would leave this place, and I would go there. I would live in my palace where all things happened according to my whim, and my life would be woven around those who loved me. This of course was merely a fantasy, but as a child I loved the moon, and would sit under it for hours, under the shroud of darkness and simply wish I was there.
At this point, my mother seemed accustomed to yelling at me and calling me names. This happened so constantly that I started to believe her. I started to believe I was worthless, I started to believe I was nothing. I would hit myself, literally, for being so stupid. I would fantasize about dying, and leaving a note blaming all the people that hated me. I would hope for death.
Without a father, I was left to figure a lot of things out myself. My mother put me in Boy Scouts to have some sort of male figure in my life, but it wasn't the same at all. Boy Scouts was fun, and I liked the activities we did. I never really longed for my father, per se, I just wished I had a father. I used to have fantasies about my father rescuing me from my mother and taking me back to Hawaii with him. It never happened.
Still, by this time, I had very few friends, and increasing amounts of enemies. I didn't dress in the popular fashion, I didn't listen to popular facets of music, and I was still excelling in most of my classes. My peers abhorred me for this and I was a virtual pariah. I hung out with my brother so much that he began to complain. It was a pathetic time in my life. One particularly cruel individual enjoyed attacking me from behind on my walk to school. One day, he came up from behind me with a log about 8 inches in diameter. On the opposite side of my skull that had the previous scar on it, this person broke the log over my head. It began to bleed, and once again I got a scar and stitches.
In sixth grade, one peer of mine found pleasure in pushing me around on the bus stop. One day, this accelerated into a full blown fight. I ended up breaking his hand, in three places. I than just got up, and walked away. I was amazed at my coldness. I didn't think I was capable of such apathy. I was turning into the peers I had grown to hate so much.
At the end of sixth grade, a friend of mine, basically the only one who would actually talk to me at first, was shot, and killed. It was deemed an accident, but I didn't care. I was so shocked, and angry, and sad. He had many, many friends, he was very popular. And in an instant, he was gone. I felt as if I was doomed to never have any real friends. That they would all be taken away from me. And once again, I was alone. |
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| Son of a bitch |
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| 06:08am 03/01/2003 |
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mood: annoyed music: Goo Goo Dolls-Iris
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A sleepless night, an act of boredom. A half an hour later, a computer crash. Annoyance, frustration, a cackle of hate and rage. My gods damned computer crashed just as I was about to post an entry. A half an hour of my life, gone, wasted, annhilated by a decrepit need to place my feelings on a carnival display for all to marvel and laugh at. My only saving grace throughout this entire ordeal is my optical mouse, allowing me to type all of this from the comfort of my recliner, and not in that incredibly uncomfortable computer chair. Woe! Woe is me! Why? WHY!?!?!?
Er, sorry about that. I get carried away sometimes.
*sighs* Oh well, I'll just type everything in. Again.
I shall start by wishing everyone a happy New Years! Don't make the same mistakes you did last year! Make all new ones!
Beyond that, I haven't posted in a while. My sincerest apologies. Obviously, I've let a lot of people down by not doing this. Don't worry, it will be ok. I'm here now, and you can now all be sated. : P No, it's just that I've been caught up in the festivities of the holiday, and not only haven't had a chance to use my own computer, but haven't had the will. ALOT of people came over, which was completely awesome, for I love my friends. However, it was hard to find a place to sleep with all those bodies around! :)
Some people did not show up that I expected to. Steph for one. Steph is a friend from college that I met while waiting in the rain for my other friend Jeff to get his ass out of class. (it turns out that he was busy enjoying a coffee inside the shope, and therfor HAD to make me wait in the rain) Anyway, Steph was just some random stranger who wasn't so random or strange in the end. I knew her, or at least knew of her, or at least knew of those she associated with, and therfor her existence was more valid to me. Anyway, she's 21, has this beautiful little girl, and is madly in love with me.
Oh, just kind of threw that one in, didn't I? Well, she is. *shrugs* Maybe it's pheromones. Yeah, that's probably it. Did you know that she's told me that I'm the only reason she has for love? That without me she is just a puddle of unknown feelings living without caring, without passion. Pretty deep, huh? Not something I'm used to from her. But she and I'd never work out. She's....well for one she's not Tammy. But, working beyond that, she's much more...crude than I'm used to being with.
Now, I'm not saying that I'm a prude. I'm not. Oh how I'm not. It's just that the people I hang out with and I, well, we're just not into dick and fart jokes as much as most teenagers. We don't talk much about our sex lives (for some that's because they don't exist *you know I love you Jeff*). We don't drink, and excluding myself, we don't smoke. (Every cigarette puts me 1 minute closer to death, I'm not going to argue with that) None of us do drugs of any sort excluding maybe the constant ventures into the wonderful land of caffeine. (anyone remember the episode of Saved by the Bell where Jessie gets hooked on caffeine pills? Gods I'm old)
Wait. Holy shit, I AM a prude. FFFUUUCCCKKK!!! Have to cuss, have to look at porn and make out in public. NOOOO, I will NOT become my parents. Help, someone. Send me dirty jokes, please.
It's not my fault, really! My friend David, whom I live with, does not watch R movies. Neither does his girlfriend. No R rated movies while they are here! That's what is! I blame them! GODS DAMN YOU DAVID!!! (*kisses*)
*Shrugs* In reality, I'm not too concerned with it. So I don't like to say fuck, or talk about sex, or watch "hard-core cop shows" That's one aspect of me I'm pretty content with. That's just who I am. And it's not who Steph is. Which is why it wouldn't work out. Wow. It took me the longest time to get to that point.
Geoff wasn't there. But he was with his girlfriend Wendy. I understand.
I'll tell you who was there, though. And this is going to cause problems for sure. Kelley.
Bet you're thinking "oh crap" now. Actually, you probably have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about. Well just sit right back and let Funk Master Stephan take you back...to a time that was just about a year ago. Spring, 2002. Six Flags America. Physics field trip. I'm with my than girl friend Lisa. Gorgeous, funny, caring, kind. Loving, helpful. FUCKING PSYCHO. Yeah, anyway. I'm also with my boy Jeff, and Lisa's friends Kelley and Jackie. Now, Jackie I didn't know much about. I knew she hung with the christian goodie crowd (even worse than us) but beyond that, I didn't know.
Kelley I kinda knew. She hung out with the stoner crowd. The people that went to the mall every friday night religiously, went to all the heavy metal concerts, were the general misfits of the school. My younger brothers type of people actually. But Kelley in particular was kinda different. Yeah, she was a mall crawler, and she did attend the concerts, and was a misfit, but beyond that she was a good student. Bright, but unmotivated. Have you ever heard someone say "If he spent have the energy he does on that video game on school work, than he'd be a brilliant scholar"? Well, that's almost never true. Some people can poor energy into school and not learn anything, they just lack the aptitude. They have strengths in other areas, whether it be drawing, acting, writing, mechanics, etc. Well, with Kelley it wasn't like that. She had the ability to learn. I mean, I knew she COULD do it. She just didn't have that same "school is cool" mentality that was pounded into my skull since I was two.
Anyway, that was the group I was with, wandering around Six flags on a very sunny spring day. In the course of the day, and our joking around and what have you, Kelley ended up in my arms and Jackie in Lisa's. (she had no qualms about making anyone feel embarrassed or uncomfortable...except maybe herself) Well, it was all in good fun, and we were all joking around, flirting with everything that moved (and boy can I flirt) when Lisa flipped out and got mad at Kelley and I. Well, we argued some, she got over it, and we moved on.
Flash forward back to Steph. Steph falls for me. Steph re-introduces me to a girl I haven't seen in months. Kelley. Steph confides in Kelley that she likes me and asks Kelley to convince me to go out with Steph. Well...that doesn't happen. I don't think it ever will. Woohoo! I turned down a girl! I have PPPOOOWWWEEERRR!!! Er, had power.
Kelley falls for Stephan. That's me for all of you not keeping track. Kelley falls for Stephan right after Stephan breaks up with his girlfriend Laura. Well, not right after, but I'm not used to this whole waiting-only-a-month thing. Anyway, Kelley is much more persistent than Steph and more than that, she has this smile. I mean, it's actually more than that. It's a look, this facade of sheer pleasure that sweeps over her face that makes me feel...wonderful. It also makes me forget. Pain. Longing. Nostalgia. Not many things do that.
Is she a great human being, wonderful in every way? I really have no idea. But that's why I'm hanging out with her. I suspect that there is much more to her than I know, and I want to know. So that is why I invited her to New Years with us.
Well, during the New Years festivities, she kisses me. *ducks* And, what's worse, I kiss her back. *ducks again* She makes me feel good. She's fun to be around. She doesn't make me feel guilty, or stupid, or crazy. Which is pretty new for me. Not necessarily in that order though. And so, now, it seems I'm with her.
Why the "oh crap"? Well, let's recap. I've just broken up with my girlfriend Laura. She's on this suicidal binge, you know, drinking, smoking, etc. and just "CAN'T" live without me. Which I'm starting to believe more and more as she plunges closer to the edge. I'm serious, this girl is going to kill herself. And now with Kelley? I'm afraid what she might do...
Steph doesn't really like Kelley. They were friends for a long while, but Steph is 4 years older than her, and that makes a difference. Steph thinks she's "young" and "immature". I do too. But I like it, and she doesn't. Anyway, so, they were friends, they kinda still are. But Steph was really messed up over me. Now her friend has me...
MY LIFE IS SUCH A FUCKING SOAP OPERA!!!! AHHHH!!!!!
I don't know if what I'm doing is more romantic or stupid. Ha! I don't care what other people thinks, I'm going to be with the person that makes me happy! Ha! What a moron I'm being, pissing off some seriously...unstable people. People that are my friends. But the only way to make them happy is be with them. And I just don't think I can.
Oh well, that's where it stand for now. I'll give updates of course, try and make sure everyone is caught up on the whole situation.
"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down." - Woody Allen, Love and Death
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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| Interjection |
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| 05:16am 30/12/2002 |
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mood: nostalgic music: Nothing but the sound of David's snoring
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Every now and again I will interject with portions of my real journal, in chrnological order. Eventually, you will all know that story of me. And than things can get interesting.
My father and mother met in Honolulu, Hawaii; my birthplace. It was a rather strange relationship, my mother was married, but not to my father. My father was married as well, yet not to my mother. When I was born, my parents vowed to break up with their other mates, and be solely for each other. However, with the announcement of the arrival of my younger brother, a years time after my birth, my mother had divorced her husband, but my father refused to have anything to do with us. So, my mother was now alone, and faced with the task of raising two boys by herself. So at that point, I was two, and my brother was one.
We moved to Linthicum, Maryland. I was only two, and cant remember much of it. But what I do remember only brings me nightmares. When I was three, my mother worked two jobs, so she was never there. I had a baby-sitter that lived in with us, and she had two sons. One day, I was sitting out in my yard, playing around with one of my baby-sitter's sons. I remember the scene almost perfectly, although it was so long ago. I remember each toy truck, and the play shovels, and the plastic squirt guns. I remember falling down, and scraping my knee. And, I remember the boy, 12, maybe 13, that came up and asked if we (myself and the baby-sitter's son) wanted to go play with him. He was way older than I was, and I felt very honored to be asked to play by someone that old. So we left to go play with him. He led us away from our home, to an entrance to the woods. The baby-sitter's son didn't want to go into the woods, so he went back, and the older boy and I continued on. Well, as it happened, the older boy ended up, well, molesting me. And I still have flashbacks and nightmares to this day about it. I went home, and the police were called, and the boy got off completely unscathed. I hear, now, that the boy is now a man, and is in jail, for the same thing. That one event brought a series of events that caused my life to spiral into a dark well.
At the age of four, I was attending therapy. For a couple of reasons. I matured faster than most do. By the age of two I could read, and by the age of three, I was able to write fairly well. By the age of four, I was not getting along much with my mother. She was never around, and when she was, she always criticized me. I should have done this, and I should have done that. She wouldn't let me be a child. She would force responsibilities on me that people that young should not have. By four, I cooked my own meals, folded my own laundry, and such. Things that seem so little, now; but they were huge to a four year old. So I isolated myself from her. I hated her. Even than. Add on to that the fact that I was molested a year earlier, and I was placed into therapy. That, more than anything, isolated me from my peers. And so I was alone.
When I was six, my mother could not afford to live on her own anymore, so we moved in with my grandfather. He was a nice man, and he was full of wisdom. I liked him a lot. But my mother was always weary of him, for when he was younger, he did bad things to my mother and his children. Worse than that, my uncle Jimmy lived there. He, while in the service of the military, raped and killed a young woman in Japan. Because he was in the military, his punishment was less severe, and he lived in the house, too. So there were two people to be leery of, which kept me locked into my room. Once school started, I was far ahead of the kids in my classes. Which put me even farther away from my peers. I had no friends, and was picked on constantly. I got into many fights, even though I was the "quiet" kid. Through training, and practice, I lost very few of these fights, and in some, I did some regrettable damage. My mother was still never home, and I was left to fend for myself most of the time. At one point, this got Social Services involved, as I was too young to be home alone legally. But they were easy to blow off. |
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| 04:36am 30/12/2002 |
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mood:  awake music: Cake!
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This is not the beginning. This is what comes next.
Who am I? If I had to describe myself in a way that would fit into an on-line journal entry ( and I don't, feel privleged : P ) this is how I'd do it.
I fell in love with a girl. Big laugh, huh? I'm 18 years old, what would I know of love? More than you. I guarantee it. I didn't fall in love with this girl. I dropped, I plummeted. I careened. And I've yet to hit rock bottom, although sometimes it feels like it. Most of the world, very nearly all the world, doesn't really know what love is. I know this because I KNOW love, and I know that the world doesn't know what I feel. So they couldn't, they can't, they don't know. And for that I pity them. And I envy them.
I met her in eighth grade, five years ago. Actually, the anniversary of when we met was on the 11th. Not that she probably remembers. But I do. From that day forward, there has not been a moment I haven't loved her. But to make an incredibly long story short, she moved a year after I met her. The beginning of high school, and the distance, and my own sad, troubled life washed over me and I lost her. She moved, and I didn't hold on. And now she's grown, she's more beautiful than ever, and still the sweetest, most perfect person I know. She has this energy that she seems to instill upon all those around her. She has this ability to give love and be loved, to make everyone in her proximity feel special, feel wanted.
Too bad she doesn't love me. Too bad. I'd give her anything, if she'd ask. I'd give my life, my love, my heart. My whole and every being. *shrugs* But she doesn't ask. We're still friends, albeit the fact that she's far enough away that I never see her. Or at least it feels like never. And I sit through boyfriend after boyfriend, through failed friendships, and troubled days. I try to be there for her, although she never asks. I don't push, and wonder if I should. In short, I leave her to live a life that could be better, yet has been worse. And I live mine, alone, wishing, wanting.
Another night
my world is gone
and all I've left to see:
Are some smiles
from some girl
with whom I'll never be.
Beyond dark stars
and through bright nights
my eyes still close to her
To scenes of joy
and times of bliss
all dreams of what were.
Yet when open
the smiles fade
my sight loses its glow
so they wait
to shut again
to go to what love they know
I suppose that's not really all of me. But if I had to be something, it would be loving her.
If the whole world fades to emptiness I'm comforted to know there is a jewel in the night, a shining in the dark, an individual as wonderful as her.
What else is there to me? I'm 18, living out of my friends basement. I suppose I could live at home, I mean, my mother would let me. However, I'd rather shot my knees out with a shotgun and crawl over broken glass. While biting off my tongue. And on fire. Burn. So I live out of my friends basement. Currently, I'm not going to college. To begin I just finished my first semester, and we're now on winter break. But, I've decided not to go back next semester and just get a job and work so that I can afford another semester of college. And a car. Yeah, a car would be nice.
Yep, you caught it, I don't have a job. Holy crap, 18, living in his friends basement, doesn't have a job, doesn't go to college, AND has an on-line journal. What. A. Loser. Maybe, but right now I've enough money saved up that I don't NEED to work, although I'm supposed to hear later today about a couple of jobs. Hopefully I snag one of them. That would be nice.
Do you know what would also be nice? If I was a loser. I'm serious. I used to be a loser, once. I had no friends, got straight A's at school, all I did was read. That changed in 8th grade when I met a girl that made me love life more than I did... Now? Now I'm lucky if only 3 people walk through my door to hang out, take me to the movies, take me to a concert, etc, etc. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends, they are all the family I have. And there isn't a single one that I wouldn't die for. Not one. But sometimes it seems like all we do is hang out, and I don't help them. I used to help them, listen, solve problems. I was quieter than, the listener. Now, I guess that's not my job anymore. Now I'm the leader. I get people together, make the plans. *shrugs* It's a job.
But ignoring that I attract people. Er, I attract woman. Er, girls like me. I go through woman much faster than I should. But...*shrugs* I don't know. And it's not like I have a lot of girls that have crushes on me. No, they fall in love with me. FALL. Like, crazy insane love style. Like the kind of love I have. It was so much simpler when I didn't have 8 girls that loved me and that all hate each other. I know, that sounds so pathetic. Christ, you have a whole bunch of woman that want to go out with you, be with you, do...other things with you. Get the hell over it. Jesus! Well, it's kinda a slap in the face when everyone in the world is fawning over you...except the one person you want.
Don't fret, there will be more from me soon. I promise! |
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| 06:32am 24/12/2002 |
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mood:  blah music: Semisonic
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This is the begining of my journal. AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! I have an online journal!!! Pathetic? Oh hell yes. Er, um. I guess if you've found this you must likely have one too. I mean, uh, yeah. Pathetic? Hell no! I've joined an elite society! Now I can truly be considered somebody! *coughs* Wow. That hurt to say. But as this is only the begining, and neither the middle or end, I shall keep it terse.
Chaos Gate
Prince of the Moon |
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deathscythepilo's journal