tinkerbitchx's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- this girl fades I don't fear it and hatred is not in the vocabulary of what I feel towards my addictions. In all honesty the hatred goes towards myself and my need to see the blood, a prettier colour red than my Converse, sting out of my skin and into a new light, an openness. A kind of feeling that no one and nothing else has given or will ever give to me. I place this feeling upon my chest and let it bury me. I like digging my own grave and I'm really fond of being able to inflict this kind of pain upon myself. Of which I truly deserve. What I hope to accomplish probably lies at the bottom of these bottles of pills and alcohol. It's a lot better than being me 24/7. My little terrior is on her side upon my bed. I wonder what she's thinking. Do canines think? I believe they do. What proof do I have? What proof do any of us had for anything? If I had to prove everything I thought or believed in there would be no time left to actually think or believe. Spirtually I'm not at one with myself, so how can I even begin to think there is some greater force? I'm not asking for proof. I'm saying I don't want any. If there is something out there, great for whatever it is. If there isn't, it will make no difference to me. I'm going to keep on living without any of the things such as religion because I don't need to be chained and told what to do. I'd rather experience and decide for myself. I'd rather make a mistake and learn from it rather than being told not to do it in the first place. Taking pictures with my camera has struck a chord in me. I take them and realize even more how much I dislike myself. I can list lots of things that I like. None of them having to do with myself. They are all outside things that make me forget sometimes who I am. I dislike who I am today. Maybe if I knew what I was going to be when I was a fetus I would've stayed inside and never come out. I wish I could've done that. I would've been fine with no contact from the outside world. I would've never experienced the lies, regrets, heartache/heartbreak, and all the essential pain to live life. Well, at least mine thus far. I could've heard few outside sounds and been warm and not forced by school to do and learn things I didn't want to or already knew. I wouldn't be in situations that comprimised my well being and my uncomfortableness with being me. The greatest thing of all, I wouldn't want to quit living. Because I'd be safe. If I could edit your words I'd delete the core of them. I'd size it down and make it what I'd want to hear. I'd also wish to press play and rewind a couple of times to make sure it all sunk in. If I could edit your words then it wouldn't be you. It would be what I want to make me happy and you wouldn't have any pleasure because there would be not a drop of torment to aim at me. I don't like the thought of me editing your words because I feel cold, distant, and out of place. Can't you edit your words? 6:50 PM - January 05, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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