2004-07-02 - 5:30 a.m.
Mmmmmhmmmm.
The last week has further convinced me that I was dropped on my head as a baby... I must be mentally stunted! I swear. I have my last exam tomorrow and have I even opened my book yet? The answer is a big fat resounding NO. And I'm upset because I'm not upset! Grrr-rah-grrr. It'd be nice if I could just put up some semblance of caring, but I can't even bring myself to posit some token effort.
It's funny, almost. Another one of my major issues from high school still managing to make major tangles in my life.
Such a baby, still. Despite catching myself uttering things like "We're just trying to do what's best for you." The contrast and the need to shift from one role to the other without a moment's notice is disorientating, nauseating sometimes.
She's getting worse, you know? It's slow, very slow. But I can feel her sliding.
I have to stop looking back. I can't bring the past back... time is linear and doesn't work that way. I can't save her, only salvage.
And the future won't bring the answers. I have to stop finding the present painful and regretting what was lost, because we're not even half way down yet, and there are still many other things to lose. I don't know what they are yet but I have to accept that they will slip from my grasp regardless.
I have my rational hat on ... can you tell? No tears anymore ... well, not for a long while anyway. Is this it? I wonder. Have I shut off now? Am I sufficiently surrounded by brick walls and barricades?
So many unanswered whys.
But I'll shake my head clear of all of this. Not that anything really clutters my mind up. I only do the intense-thought thing here, so for the rest of the time I am relatively brain dead.
It's been ostensibly pleasant, these past few days. For some reason I am only truly happy with doing nothing when I am simultaneously avoiding doing something(/s). I don't know whether this means that I am masochistic or merely a multi-tasker.
My sentences are choppy and stilted. Manufactured even, like my fingers have been possessed by some being of artificial intelligence. I'm not numb ... I just don't ... feel.
Not that I'm sure I understand the difference at this point.
I'm trying to summon emotion, because if there's something no one could accuse me of, it's holding them back. But it's just not there. Should I wonder what that means?
What a strange miasma ... I suspect it's inimical in nature. But the delights of apathy ensure consistency in my reaction to such a revelation.
Ahhh, I know. You think that's bad? You should read my uni essays. This entry was truly not intended, and is not a fair representation of my character. You know? I like shoes. I bite my nails. I dance around the kitchen and joke around my parents. When Julia Stiles made out with the Prince in "The Prince and Me" in a dark corner of the library, I thought it was incredibly romantic.
I don't know. It seems wrong not to try to paint a fuller picture.
The last week has further convinced me that I was dropped on my head as a baby... I must be mentally stunted! I swear. I have my last exam tomorrow and have I even opened my book yet? The answer is a big fat resounding NO. And I'm upset because I'm not upset! Grrr-rah-grrr. It'd be nice if I could just put up some semblance of caring, but I can't even bring myself to posit some token effort.
It's funny, almost. Another one of my major issues from high school still managing to make major tangles in my life.
Such a baby, still. Despite catching myself uttering things like "We're just trying to do what's best for you." The contrast and the need to shift from one role to the other without a moment's notice is disorientating, nauseating sometimes.
She's getting worse, you know? It's slow, very slow. But I can feel her sliding.
I have to stop looking back. I can't bring the past back... time is linear and doesn't work that way. I can't save her, only salvage.
And the future won't bring the answers. I have to stop finding the present painful and regretting what was lost, because we're not even half way down yet, and there are still many other things to lose. I don't know what they are yet but I have to accept that they will slip from my grasp regardless.
I have my rational hat on ... can you tell? No tears anymore ... well, not for a long while anyway. Is this it? I wonder. Have I shut off now? Am I sufficiently surrounded by brick walls and barricades?
So many unanswered whys.
But I'll shake my head clear of all of this. Not that anything really clutters my mind up. I only do the intense-thought thing here, so for the rest of the time I am relatively brain dead.
It's been ostensibly pleasant, these past few days. For some reason I am only truly happy with doing nothing when I am simultaneously avoiding doing something(/s). I don't know whether this means that I am masochistic or merely a multi-tasker.
My sentences are choppy and stilted. Manufactured even, like my fingers have been possessed by some being of artificial intelligence. I'm not numb ... I just don't ... feel.
Not that I'm sure I understand the difference at this point.
I'm trying to summon emotion, because if there's something no one could accuse me of, it's holding them back. But it's just not there. Should I wonder what that means?
What a strange miasma ... I suspect it's inimical in nature. But the delights of apathy ensure consistency in my reaction to such a revelation.
Ahhh, I know. You think that's bad? You should read my uni essays. This entry was truly not intended, and is not a fair representation of my character. You know? I like shoes. I bite my nails. I dance around the kitchen and joke around my parents. When Julia Stiles made out with the Prince in "The Prince and Me" in a dark corner of the library, I thought it was incredibly romantic.
I don't know. It seems wrong not to try to paint a fuller picture.
