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 ~~* A Splinter of my Mind's Eye *~~ archives: 2005 |
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~~* A Splinter of my Mind's Eye *~~ archives: 2005 |
| * nov 8/11, 2005 |
when i send someone an email with some questions in it, and they don't respond to those questions, no matter how nice and polite they are otherwise, it hurts me. i feel they don't care enough about me, to answer. i feel embarrassed to have asked something, which they don't feel is important enough to answer. i feel embarrassed to have let someone know that I care about something, which they don't. they don't think my questions are worthy of a response. they must think my questions are dumb, or perhaps inappropriate. i feel spurned. i feel like closing myself off from them in the future, to avoid being spurned again. i feel like not initiating any further meaningful conversation with them, because perhaps they don't really even want to converse with me, after all. i feel that i should stop caring about them, because they obviously don't care about me. if i get up the nerve to ask the question(s) again, and they still don't reply, that makes me feel even more strongly that my feelings must truly be justified. this time, i don't feel like asking again. i don't know them well enough to suspect that perhaps their lack of reply was unintentional. because it's too much like before, even though it's totally different. obviously, i shouldn't give a damn. obviously, it's not at all important. obviously, i'm not at all important to them. . and yet, i surely overlook answering other people's questions too, sometimes. |
| * nov 6, 2005 |
it was good. it was very nice. but i've got this uneasy melancholic feeling. maybe it's just loneliness. maybe yesterday just woke up again, feelings that had temporarily gone to sleep. i wonder if they spent the night together. or even today, too, together. i wonder if they weren't telling me out of a desire to be polite, unhurtful. it shouldn't bother me, if they did. i don't mind if they did. i just feel a bit left out. i shouldn't feel left out. it was very nice. it wouldn't make sense to expect anything more on a first meeting. it's just bottoming, though. what's the future in that? surely it will become boring, unsatisfying, before too long. woke up those feelings. woke up my loneliness. it does feel more alone, without her here. so quiet. poor Yoda. i'm no good company. they like taking him for walks. i feel guilty for not wanting to. he said he wasn't at all able to tell where i was at, during the play. that bothers me too. it sounds too much like what wododu used to say. i hope it's not all that unusual, like he said, for a first time play, but why couldn't he tell? what's so different about my reactions, from other people's, that make mine harder to read? i wonder if he enjoyed it. i don't understand much, what tops get out of topping. maybe, if he couldn't tell where i was at, that means, he couldn't get anything enjoyable out of it. he's so nice. he's so likeable. he's so tall. such a lovely dark humor. eh. it's way too early for it to be so dark outside. and it's only the beginning of November. i feel scared, somehow. sad, lonely, uncertain. maybe i feel guilty for having some of these emotions. it was good. i should feel good, right? not lonely and bereft. maybe it's just lack of sleep. i didn't get much sleep. intimacy. i'm afraid i'll never have intimacy with anyone. other people share intimacy through sex. if i'm never able to enjoy sex like other people do, maybe i'll never be able to have that intimacy with anyone. maybe i'll only ever be a 2nd-class friend. |
| * nov 5, 2005 |
i envy people, not for what they have, because what they have isn't usually what i want, but for having what they want. or for having something. nothing's ever real for me. i think things are real for a while, and then the world is turned upside-down. i find out that no, of course it wasn't real. i'm just an acquaintance, an outsider, someone on the sidelines. they're really much better friends with someone else, whom i never even knew existed, than they ever were with me. how could i have possibly thought that they really liked me as anything more than a casual, second-rate friend? how could i have possibly thought that i was someone whom someone else could really like? how could i have mistaken our interactions for a true friendship? i wish i could experience what it is, to be real, because obviously, i never am. i wish i wasn't experiencing this. i wish this didn't exist, to experience. i wish i didn't exist. i wish i hadn't put this black plasticky paint on my nails. if wishes were spaghetti, at least you could eat them. oh god, i hope i don't start crying there, with bunches of people around. i'm hungry. my head hurts. oh fabulous joy-joy. |
| * oct 8, 2005 |
what would it be like to live in a perpetually cloudy place, a place without sunshine? it seems such an unpleasant thought, even though it doesn't seem it should necessarily be so. some people prefer clouds. some people prefer gray to colors. what is it about overcast days, that disturbs me? things seem hushed. sounds are more discordant. everything seems to take on a minor chord. the birds still chirp and sing, but they don't sound cheerful. it reminds me somehow of unpleasant feelings. unpleasant memories of overcast days during my childhood. bored days. rainy days. purposeless days. there's something about bright warm sunshine that is so good. things aren't the same without it. turbulent clouds of thunderstorms block sunlight too, but that's quite different... not at all the same unpleasant sadness of flat monochromatic overcast skies. |
| * oct 5, 2005 |
i had a snippet of a good dream! made me feel such a wow feeling, ahhh.... it wouldn't sound like much if i tried to describe it... but there was this guy after me... i felt this great dread (a good/bad dread) in regards to him... a dangerous person... who would kill people if need be, to punish me.. and he looked like Robert Redford (that was a bit amusing, in retrospect) |
| * oct 3, 2005 |
that "noone wants me" kind of headspace is a poignant thing. good for when i feel like crying. good for feeling that intense gut-wrenching fetal curl of confused innocent childlike despair. but it's just that, a headspace. it doesn't stand up to logic well. the truth is a lot less poignant. not necessarily better, but certainly less romantic. who needs truth, when you're crying? if you feel like crying, why not imagine yourself something poignant to cry about? just another fantasy. |
| * oct 3, 2005 |
there was a leaf a pretty leaf that fell from a tree fell before me as i walked and it turned summersaulted prettily down to the ground and i thought of all the leaves on that tree and all the leaves on other trees and how each one has that special moment their own unique moment of breaking free, tumbling down in spirals or falling straight down or being blown about by the wind all of them fall in their own special way and i thought of how the fallen leaves become part of the earth on the ground while in the air on the trees as the seasons turn, new leaves grow each year |
| * oct 2, 2005 |
had a whim to use the dildos even though i wasn't hardly in the mood. but just to see if they would fit in any easier... you know, maybe having had doctors poking around in there while i was unconscious, inserting speculums and hysteroscopes and what-not, might have... widened my vagina a bit, maybe? no, it didn't. i don't know how the heck i managed to get that dildo in before. and then i started crying. it must be unusual to be lying naked on a bed, holding a dildo, and crying. it seems such a contradiction sometimes. i've got this beautiful, sleek, muscular body. i'm cute. i'm smart. i'm nice. but noone wants a person like me. there isn't anyone I'm compatible with. noone whom i'm likely to ever meet. other people like sex. i don't. but i don't want just a platonic friendship, either. i'm not sexual and i'm not asexual. i'm just weird. i'm wonderful. but i'm a freak. i don't have a clue as to the things other people do. . a person who has no intrinsic desire for sex; who can't even fit a dildo in their vagina; who has an aversion to other persons' bodily fluids; who doesn't even like the idea of licking or kissing. a person with an aversion to air conditioning; who gets cold easily; who prefers the temperature to be at least 80 degrees. a person who doesn't eat meat nor even most foods that other people do. a person with an aversion to tobacco smoke. a person who doesn't feel at ease around other people; who can't be friendly and cheerful, or carry a conversation. a person with an aversion to the things that other people seem to think are "sexy" for people of this sex, including breasts, makeup, nylons, and high-heeled shoes. a person who doesn't see themselves as a man or a woman; whose gender doesn't even exist in the viewpoints of most other people. . then again, considering the couple of persons i've known, who might have wanted me, if i had wanted them, sort of invalidates the lament about noone wanting me. although maybe they just didn't know me well enough, to know that they wouldn't want me. and it doesn't really make things any better, having people be interested in me, if i'm not interested in them. or maybe it does. it just ruins my lament. then again, their definition of wanting me, was probably wanting to have sex with me... or to lick me or kiss me... there isn't anyone compatible with me. not compatible enough that they feel drawn to me, and me to them. that's what my lament is. it's just easier to cry to the tune "noone wants me". gah. i can't even have the joy of writing about how miserable i am. stupid logic has to pop its head up and try to be so damn concise about everything. |
| * sep 18, 2005 |
and by the way, i use an image-based webcounter to track visits to this page and some of the other pages on my site. it also captures ip numbers. hope that doesn't offend anyone. because i am... obsessive and curious after all |
| * sep 18, 2005 |
i use other people's words to hurt myself with . when feeling yucky, washing the dishes and making lunches can feel ok like an accomplishment oh god please kill me now ugh i was thinking about guillotines this morning. it must be strange... the nerves for the entire body go through the neck, and when the head is cut off, for that instant before death, if all those severed nerves are still sending input to the brain, input such as "ouch, i've been hurt", it must feel to the head as if the entire body is in pain. it must feel to the head as if it is still connected to the body, even though it isn't. when I was a kid, death by guillotine sounded like one of the worst kind of deaths. but now, compared to gunshots or lethal injection or electrocution, it doesn't really sound so bad. except maybe for the people who have to dispose of the severed head and torso and all the blood. oh oh oh i am worthless i am no fun i am naive and out of touch it was a mistake to ever have played with me it was a mistake to ever have talked to me i am delusional i am ugly i am fat i am skin and bones i am boring i am dumb i am whiny i am unresponsive i am a robot i am a zombie i am not worth speaking to i am a breaker of those sacred rules of privacy that the community holds so dear i talk too much i don't talk enough i have no sexual response of any kind that anyone would ever enjoy my hair is too long my hair is too short i have pimples on my butt i am a heathen i am a joykiller i am a partypooper i am no fun to sit next to i am a radio-breaker tick tick tock i am a kitchen clock i am the most unlikable person in the world saddam is a saint compared to me i kill babies by pulling their small intestines out i am crazy i am clueless i am mean i am fickle i am juvenile i kill scuppernongs by squishing their insides out i am a liar i am pimplyfaced scum i am ratdroppings stuck to the bottom of your shoe ahh. guess it's time for dinner. |
| * sep 17, 2005 |
Why do I want someone whom I feel is a jerk, to not think badly of me? Why do I care what he thinks? Why do I assign any importance at all to those mean things he said to me, so long ago? Why do I let them hurt me? The things said by a jerk should not be taken to heart. I still wish he weren't such a jerk. It invalidates all the good memories I had of him. I still wish he'd care enough to discuss things. I still wish he'd care enough to apologize. But he chose to be a jerk, so why do I care? |
| * aug 16, 2005 |
i'm not a maternal nurturing type. i'm a needy child type. i don't have a deep-rooted desire to take care of you and to do bunches of things for you, just to make your life pleasant. i'll do things, maybe, if you want me to, and if you tell me to, to gain your affection. and maybe, because it turns me on. . but i'm too desolate too old too faded i don't have any good fantasies anymore. no dreams, no stories. it doesn't seem like there's any point in looking for something in real-life, when i can't find anything in my imagination anymore, that makes me feel good. maybe i've grown too old for make-believe. a child too old. |
| * aug 5, 2005 |
the thing, or one of the main things, anyway, of thinking about getting involved with a married person who isn't truthful with their spouse, is that if they aren't able or willing to be truthful with their mate, their oath-bound partner, someone whom they must have at least at one time loved, or liked a whole lot, why should i believe that they would be truthful with me? and why should i want to get involved in any significant way with someone who wouldn't be truthful with me? |
| * aug 1, 2005 |
i suppose my feelings regarding the trustworthiness of people aren't necessarily very reliable. so i suppose i should keep that in mind whenever thinking about whether or not i should trust someone. in other words, i suppose i shouldn't trust anyone, even when i think i trust them. hmmm. but then, when have i ever trusted someone totally, anyway? |
| * jul 31, 2005 |
well, my brain didn't hurt today or yesterday. see there. |
| * jul 28, 2005 |
my brain hurts so bad sometimes i don't know how i can stand it i wish i could just turn it off i wish someone would blow my brains out i know there are people with a lot worse lives than mine but my life sucks my brain is defective it hurts so bad sometimes i don't think i can be happy for more than mere moments at a time even if i found my soulmate, my brain would probably still be this way... i couldn't be happy, even then i started the white pills today instead of finishing all the yellow ones first. i figure that should make the hormone cycle of the pills match up better with my natural cycle, so that I should still get my period around the same day as usual. but now i feel a bit crampy already. maybe it's just something i ate. i wouldn't much mind driving to atlanta right about now. but it probably wouldn't be appropriate. it wouldn't make much sense. it's just that my brain hurts... and it's hard to tell, what would make sense. i don't much care for that book i'm reading. it's just a story. i don't feel anything from it. it's that way with me, for most books i read, nowadays. that's why i don't care much for reading anymore. it just passes time. last year, i didn't feel like taking vacation, because I had a feeling that I would feel like I do now. I can't stand being at work and I can't stand vacation either??? of course my brain doesn't always hurt. this is temporary. I didn't used to be quite so boring. I used to be interested in some things. People didn't seem to be interested in me then. I hope Yoda doesn't feel as badly as I did today. He just lays around the house all day too. At least he seems to look forward to his daily walk. I should do something different with my money. But it seems too much bother and I don't care enough. . There's someone I seem to like, who wants to meet me and maybe play with me. (Yet I met someone last year whom I seemed to like, and whom I played with, and that was at least as much pain as pleasure to me; and it doesn't seem likely this could end up much better than that) It's nice and warm. But it's hot. Maybe too hot. I don't want to go back to work. I can't stand this. I can't think of anything good. There's something wrong with my brain. But I don't think it's curable. I'm just defective. Incompatible with this world. Yet still alive. What is with that? So I'll go to sleep. And surely my brain won't hurt as much tomorrow. Maybe if I hadn't run out of pages in my paper journal, I wouldn't write as much of these depressed ramblings here. Nevermind. Just pretend I'm happy. Hee hee, hah hah, ho ho. Life is grand and fucking wonderful. Of course it is. So why does my brain have to fucking hurt? Sleep, right. Sleep fucking sleep. |
| * jul 24, 2005 |
ok, ok. so maybe i was being a bit too glum, there. heeheehehheh.... and i can bake cookies or brownies or muffins or something :-) ahhh.... for the moment, anyway :) |
| * jul 23, 2005 |
it's like i'm hooked up to life-support. my spirit's long dead, but my body is being kept alive... breathing, thinking, feeling, for no reason. i have no desire for doing anything. i have a week's vacation and it makes me feel bad, because there is nothing i want to do. i do the same things i do on any other weeknight or weekend. except that i can stay up late and stay in bed in the morning. i'm just passing time. it's better than having to be at work, surely, but there's nothing good about this either. i have no desire for anything anymore. i want to be dead but i'm not allowed that and i'm not allowed to want it, either. just passing time. trying to fool myself into thinking it's not so bad and sometimes succeeding. it's not so bad. but it's never really good. i want a meaningful companionship. i want to really like someone who really likes me. i want someone to understand me and to make me feel tingly inside and to want me and to like me as i am. i want to tingle and to feel good and magic to be real. but i am dead inside and nothing is real. except life just keeps going on. and on and on. and i have to keep pretending to hope for something even though bit by bit, every last little thing fades away. it's just an old fantasy, and it's mostly faded too. . no, these (stupid bloody) birth control pills haven't made my mood any better, although they haven't seemed to have worsened it, either. i have to believe... pretend... hope... that this swollen feeling in my breasts is truly only temporary, in order to swallow each (damn) little yellow pill. . and you, i do not understand why you are reading this. |
| * jul 17, 2005 |
Perhaps this is part of my problem. I have no enthusiasm for anything anymore. There are no movies I'm looking forward to, no next episode of a good tv series, no new book by a favorite author, no new music release by a favorite artist... no trip, no meal, no anything. Nothing makes me feel enthusiastic. Some potential future eventualities seem better to me than others, some things seem more pleasant than others, some things hold more interest for me than others, but I feel no inner joy, no true expectations of fun, excitement or happiness, in regards to anything. There's noone I truly hope to get mail from, in our mailbox on the street. There's noone I truly hope to get email from, or a phonecall from, anymore... except perhaps one person... and even with him, I don't believe in the potential for more than a bit of fun, at best. There are some people whom I appreciate interacting with; it makes me feel good in some ways, to believe that there are people who enjoy interacting with me... but I don't really feel any strong enthusiasm for it. Having them is better than nothing, but I know that interacting with them will at best make me feel entertained and mirthful for a short period of time. That's the most that I seem able to hope for, anymore. I guess it's vaguely possible that I'll meet someone whom I'll feel enthusiastic about, again. But if that's the only thing that might really interest me anymore, meeting someone whom I'll feel enthusiastic about, why would anyone be interested in me to begin with? I'm such a dull, lifeless person even though I try not to be obvious about it. . Maybe this idea of "enthusiasm", like the idea of "happiness", is just a myth. Maybe I've never been "enthusiastic". Maybe I never was "happy". Maybe I should stop thinking about it. And just be, without thinking about everything that's wrong. Maybe I should stop believing that I'm not happy, because there isn't really any such thing as happiness. Maybe I should just stop thinking. |
| * jul 16, 2005 |
i can't remember anything that makes me feel happy and i can't forget sadness i feel sad. and everything that has ever happened to me, has been a precursor to now. therefore it seems that everything in the past has led to sadness. everything i remember, even moments that must have been happy/fun/magical, makes me feel sad. this shouldn't seem so logical. it should be just as easy, to feel happy right now, and to see everything in my past as a precursor to happiness. it should be, but it isn't. i can't believe in it. . and i feel like i shouldn't post things like this. Because i've been told that people prefer happy people to sad people. People like being around happy people because that tends to raise their own spirits. Whereas being around sad, negative people can be depressing. And I know it's true, even for me. I prefer happy, positive people to sad, negative ones. So I feel like I shouldn't post things like this. Because I want people to like me, and to like being around me. I'd rather make someone smile than make them feel sad. . But if I didn't post these things, and just kept them private... then I wouldn't be expressing what I felt. At least this is an outlet. And it would feel like a lie, to pretend to be happy. |
| * jul 14, 2005 |
oh man, things are funny sometimes. like one big really weird soap opera, really. gotta love it! |
| * jun 30, 2005 |
i don't know what i want. i'm hoping that i'll find it somehow, anyway. i think i may yearn for things, which my rational mind wouldn't agree to. . i should stop reading that page. i think it's really not good for me. now, how do i get myself to stop reading it? . sometimes, i wish i could just erase him completely from my brain. he never considered me important. although... occasionally... but still, what good does even having those memories do for me? it seems they're doing me more harm than good, now. |
| * jun 25, 2005 |
people seem to find me intriguing. i guess that's nice... or at least it used to seem a flattering thought. but now i'm starting to feel like some odd curiosity, which makes people want to stop and stare and poke at it. it doesn't mean they'll ever really like me, or be interested in me as anything other than a curiosity. |
| * jun 19, 2005 |
it is amusing, in a way, watching myself having the same silly, illogical thoughts and feelings all over again. i am very silly. |
| * jun 18, 2005 |
The world is so full of cruelty. Cruelty on massive scales. Torture, persecution, killings, injustice... everywhere! Is there any place on this planet, some small island perhaps, where it has never occurred? There I sit, safe in my living room, watching it on TV. Wondering how safe I really am. How safe can anyone be in this world, when humans are so capable of cruelty? See the things happening? When will the cruelty reach here and devour me, as well? When will I become one of those people, those victims, on TV? Or will I be one of the lucky ones, who lives their life without ever being directly affected by it? And what would that mean? What does it mean, to sit here safe in my room, with the sun shining outside, and no bombs, and no executions, and no tanks... to be in this place, in this time? What does it mean, to just be lucky, to be here instead of there? To be me instead of them? What does it mean, to be here, or anywhere, at all? |
| * jun 18, 2005 |
well, that's that. it isn't going to happen. even if we do meet someday. it's over. get on with things. ugh. . i wish i could at least fantasize someone whom i could take comfort in. i don't know why all my old fantasies have turned on me, have become faint, uncertain, unfamiliar, unsatisfying... why the parts of me that used to make me feel good, my internal alter-egos, have become uncertain, unreliable, unreal. what am i to do, if i can't get satisfaction, internally, nor externally? . But at least this isn't like last year. Yes, this seems better. Maybe I'll get over it faster. I wonder if Sri lived here instead of way over there, how things would have worked out with us. Would it have worked out? Or would he have not liked me that much either? |
| * jun 15, 2005 |
too damn weird. this is too damn weird. nearly exactly like last year. even though the details are different. can't be a good thing. just can't. but i guess i'm grateful, anyway. for another few days, i guess, and then.... well, we know what last year was like. fuck. |
| * jun 14, 2005 |
oh well. maybe it was a kiss-off after all. maybe when someone says something isn't something, it really means it is that something. and maybe it really is better if i simply never hear from him again. because if this were a test on how well i could handle infrequent contact, i'd seem to be failing it miserably. i don't want this persistent ache in my center. and i'd think that feeling great every now and then would make up for the ache that it stirs up the rest of the time, but maybe it doesn't. maybe it's better to feel dead all the time, than to be reminded of what it's like to be alive, of what you can't have. |
| * jun 8, 2005 |
Some rare people are addictive. Interacting with them makes you feel really good. Then you want more of them. You want to interact with them every day; you start thinking about them in all your spare time. You want to feel good like that all the time, and when you can't, because they're not around, you miss them. You yearn for more of that good feeling.... and you start feeling bad when you can't get it, when they're not there. You can't get your fix, and it hurts. And it's not like a tobacco addiction, where you can just whip out another cigarette and light it... There's nothing you can do... but wait and wait and yearn, feeling the withdrawal symptoms, hurting, wanting, wanting your fix. Not knowing for sure, if you're ever going to get it, or even if you do, how long it will last till the pain comes back. Is it better to not have the addiction; to never feel so good in the first place? Is it possible to feel so good, and not to become addicted to that feeling, and to the apparent source of that feeling? Is it possible to feel so good sometimes, yet not to feel like you're missing something, the rest of the time? |
| * may 23, 2005 |
omg, he's so sweet! i'm getting teary-eyed... ...NO! Don't get teary-eyed!!! Keep yer wits about ya! :) |
| * may 22, 2005 |
ok. point. emotional ties are not something anyone has control over. it isn't the other person's fault if they feel no emotional attachment to you. nor is it YOUR fault. or is it? that's what I'm afraid of; that there are things that I don't know to do, that I've never learned and/or never will, or that I'm incapable of, which would be prerequisites for someone else to ever feel an emotional tie to me. but maybe that's just stupid. maybe i'm perfectly normal. maybe certain persons do even actually feel an emotional attachment to me. maybe i just don't see that clearly, because i don't feel as attached to them. and maybe that's exactly the same thing. it's not my fault nor their fault. it's nothing wrong with me, nor with them. it's just the way things are. . so far, it seems the people I've started feeling strongly about, for whom I might consider there being an emotional tie, have been ones who've made me feel aroused. but wouldn't that only really be considered lust? even if in my case, it doesn't necessarily mean that I want to have sex with them? i lust for interactions which make me feel a particular way... i don't lust for sex, but it is sexual, this lust i feel. yes, of course. those feelings have always been the pinnacle for me. the ones that made me feel good... wonderful. those feelings were what made certain things seem special, magical, wonderful, important. it's what most affects me. and it is sexual, even though other peoples' sexuality seems to be very different from mine. but then, if feeling an emotional tie to someone truly is mainly based on sexuality, and if other peoples' sexuality is so different from mine, will it ever really be possible for me and someone else to feel a mutual emotional attachment to each other? |
| * may 22, 2005 |
i think i like him too much already. hoodooguy. hudugai... whodoguy. ooh, doggy. liking someone shouldn't make one feel bad, though. why do i have to feel this way? |
| * may 3, 2005 |
i will cherish this scar on my psyche blessed to have been scratched by the coyote let me be strong... |
| * apr 16, 2005 |
i'm afraid of feeling subby towards anyone else now. i'm afraid of having it be unrequited, again. the first time, i could accept that aspect of it, in some ways at least, because it was a fun, new experience. but now, i'm afraid of feeling so strongly again. i'm afraid of feeling that way, when i shouldn't feel that way, and of not knowing, again, that i shouldn't be feeling that way, until it's too late, again. and yet, i want to be able to feel subby towards someone again. i want to feel subby. i just don't want it all to be in my head. |
| * mar 30, 2005 |
Lesson: Telling someone that you suspect them of lying or being deceptive is only likely to make them feel angry or annoyed, and like being less open, not more open, with you. |
| * mar 14, 2005... |
hmmm. solution to core-cutting sadness and despair? just don't think about it. it's almost alluring, such an intense, constricting emotional pain. one wants to go back, and taste it again. but i fear the nightmarish headache, that glimpse of unending despair, that accompanies it. |
| * jan 5, 2005 |
it's when you start thinking someone might have a certain motive for saying what they're saying, that you really start wondering about their honesty. |
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