Malison avenue.

I spent eternity in the pursuit of one idea, only to turn around and realize that I'd never known what wanting anything was like, at all. To find that all the rules had been changed and I was bound to this like the devil has been bound to his boundaries since the beginning of the Earth.

I'm in a fog right now. I wish i could say it's as easy as confusion or boredom but i don't really know what it is. Sometimes it scares me, a whole lot of things scare me. In fact i'm not sure that i've felt any emotion in my entire life as recurrent and disastrous as fear. People say it's natural to be afraid, to be hurt, to love. I say bullshit. Nothing is natural to me, because if i was to go on that, you'd be reading something written by a very very different person. What can i really be, i ask, when all i know is how to be damaged? I learned a long time ago to not live by other people's ideas,to leave them to their mediocre preferences but every now and then i can't stop the hurt. Which is why i would prefer their hate for at least they're putting some thought into that. I can't stand their love because they don't love like i do and they will never be able to convince me they are enough. I want out so badly. I don't belong here, in this house, in this city. Nowhere. I want to go somewhere where no one knows me and never come back. Just be like a lost bad memory. Don't you see? I'm one day away from running screaming out of this place. And i would leave everyone i know behind especially my friends without looking back. Because all of them, all of them in their little heartless ways have most painfully disappointed me. All the early mornings i've spent in my balcony looking out towards the river flowing a little distance away from my house, have i wished i was at the bottom of it, to be somewhere where the pain has stopped and i've forgotten everything. Please let me leave. Please let me be done. 

Creatures by the bridge.

Everyday or almost every day for a long time, I have seen a little sickly dog by the side of the bridge. It's waiting to die for no one is merciful enough to kill it. Helping it, they think is useless for it's not of any pedigree value, obviously. But he's beautiful. He's hurt, I can see, for he limps on one leg and makes little faces of pain. But day after day he's still there. Still very much alive. I pass by in my car on some days with a few tears, on others an incurable fascination glistening in my eyes. He seems as if he has survived the ages of the Earth, I can feel wisdom, acceptance and myself in him. Don't be mistaken my young friends, it's not my lack or excess of self-esteem that leads me to think a dog and I are something of the same,but how could I see him and not notice it, as a short stab somewhere in that soul of mine .I have a good mind to go talk to him someday, he'd definitely be a lot better than some human twits of my acquaintance.By now you can imagine that social niceties are hardly my strong suit. Before you think I'm crazy, that to me is an incredibly flattering idea by the way, I'll tell you why I'm attached to that little dog. He is that creature that no one will shoot out of sheer inconvenience. And in my heart, I know I've been that creature too. Just as empty, lost and bleeding as him, but yes.. a lot prettier.    

Consolation girl.

I used to believe in fate but it's all being screwed.what i can't understand is why I of all imaginative beings, crave certainty, why i must know all the ways about everything as if knowing would or can possibly stop the burning. you see, a few months ago i had it all figured out; my settlements, my tragedy. I had hope but a strong sense of realism. i've been given freedom by unlikely components but the plan is all wrong. that's the problem with writers, they think the people of the real world are as open to willful manipulation as their self-written characters. my way or not, i know now that there is an emptiness inside me that nothing can ever fill,that no matter what i delude myself into loving, it's always going to be there. that all these ideas I've nurtured about myself and life (mostly from Dale Canergie books very popular in the 50s) are just so i don't end up as i am, little miss consolation girl who never quite lived up to her own ridiculously high expectations. like i said I've been here too long, it's time to give up,make a run for it before i'm caught again in the same current as i have been my whole life. I know I really am as terrible as I've always known,then what the hell am i doing having forgotten it for so long? 

The Penalty Clause.

Irony. for some of us it's a cosmic joke for being too nice, too miserable, too stuck-up or maybe just too damn naive. but then there's always the unavoidable fact that a few steps down 'im not sure what im doing' lane and you've become the very thing that you had sworn to hate for all eternity. you don't even realize what you've become till its staring you in the face, triumphant. kinda reminds me of the black spider man or even the black swan, anything that deals with ridiculous inner-self mutation. it's all too easy, you know, being wrong, especially when you're in a terribly interesting and at times amusing battle with yourself since the beginning of time. it's not really as simple or as human as an identity crisis, as Hannibal lecter said 'it's psychology is a thousand times more savage.'   

why, hello to you too.

Sometimes you feel like you're going in circles with no end like a strange sort of deja vu except that it's different every time, somehow worse. I feel as if I've been here too long, when I've seen nothing. I feel tired in my heart, something tells me 18 is no age to feel as if your time is completely and utterly up. I always had a direction but at this point of time i feel as if i could not be more lost and i can't fight for that happy, loving girl i once was, whose blood is on my hands today. Never thought my first blog entry would be so morose but then again hiding this part is going to make my happier times seem unreal. For better or for worse, i need it all.