2001-05-23 - 10:18 p.m. - trivialis9

Hi. What I said here was wrong, as I had thought it was: the real words to the Tchaikovsky theme are "Vania sat on the sofa and smoked a pipe as he thought of his sweetheart." No drinking, no Volga - although there is a "V" word. Apologies.

"A word is dead

When it is said,

Some say.

I say it just

Begins to live

That day." -Emily Dickinson.

Thank you, liebchen, for helping me get back to her. And, wherever you are... hi Frannie, Al and Tiff. If you think I'm mentioning them with some ulterior motive... of course I am. I've been neglecting them recently and I believe that some are beginning to feel hurt. Not that this will help. Again: everything I touch, poisoned...

I should really be doing homework at the moment, but I don't quite feel like it yet. Don't know why... it seems that loss of purpose has struck me in my last week. Only two projects to do, and yet I can't get moving on them. I have to, it's my duty to my partners, but still... ugh. Count with me: something like four more school days. Revile me if you have more, mock me if you have fewer or are out...

Good day today. I got my poems back from my English teacher and he liked them. It's gratifying to hear it, especially as free verse seems to the medium I'm best suited for... (not that it's particularly good, mind you, but of the words I churn out those I falsely call poetry seem best and truest to me...)

Bad day today. I got three hours of sleep last night - this morning, rather, and wasn't too happy about functioning for most of the day. My eyes started to twitch. I should really stop this, but hey, I'm done with my mixed tapes for Tera, so I should be able to get more sleep. Emphasize the "should" there.

I can't take much more of this, this meaning life, this meaning what I hold in my hands, in my heart or, if you would rather I say it that way, in my brain... school aggravates it but it is not the cause, this sick feeling creeping over me like some pathogenic blanket.

I must wonder: was this feeling in me before, waiting as a seed to sprout when conditions were right? Or is it something I've brought upon myself, adopted because it's for the moment an out? I'm not sure I can live with the truth.

I must fight my battles. Gheh. I don't look forward to it, knowing what I do about myself... but by postponing them they grow worse, more costly, and... what I work through now is that much less to deal with when I grow older. I wish I could be certain that I will have the strength to fight. I think no one really does, but why does this needless confession come pouring forth at so little provocation, and why are others so good at hiding it? Or am I blind to more than those things which my misshapen lenses cause to be a blur? Am I making myself better by hastening the breaking of the world? I feel that's what I'm doing: shattering the old to rebuild in a more pleasing pattern, in a braver new sound world. Or is what I pity and mock, living in denial, in a cloud, is that what's best? I live in a cloud with respect to some areas of my life. Is it my attempt at destruction or the fact that clouds remain making me this way? Why do I state the obvious so often?

Perhaps my friends are right. Perhaps I'm not so much in love with the idea of love as with the idea of the validation of the self it might bring. Because just maybe if someone showed such interest in me I might believe a little more in myself. Because just maybe it would finally sink in that I am worth at least one person's time. And that might spur me to feel different about myself. Am I hoping too much? I think I might be. But you tell me. Tell me if my personal stock is so debased that no one will buy. Tell me that I have something to offer, and see if I believe you. Tell me that this last line is more than wish- because, liebchen, it is more than wish for you. That I should be able to feel about myself as I feel about others... ah... *sighs*

I set myself up, drawn to power that burns, power that hurts, arrogance that smarts... and why? To what end?