Tuesday, May 24, 2005 // 11:12 PM

i have realised, if i dont write i become exceedingly unhappy. i think. i think i'd like to burn things down to the ground: my room, my house, my life. i would like a clean slate and no maintainence, i would like. absolute functionality, because i am such a haphazard character, if i let myself go i would let myself run amok, crazy helter skelter. i want another house, an entire house, to turn into a piece of art, that doesnt need to be functional, that i would never live in in a million years. im waiting for some rich dude to come along and make me feel incredibly lucky.

i have felt your cool and guarded eye poised and ready, and i suppose i cant blame you, but at least consider the possibility of your lack of insight, at least live and let live, live and let live. this is something i will take a stand on, it is pro-difference and the problem with the other extreme is that it is a faction of dogma, also a faction that will never consider self-doubt. i cant take all this concealed politics, the subtle inward congratulation, the formalities (insincerities) that make you convey a sentiment you dont mean, you dont mean.

i've missed floorball, but i had the best game in a long while yesterday. i like playing the baby grand in the sanctuary, but at those times i very desperately need to be alone. im sorry, im sorry if i've made you feel bad, because you cant help me become a less depressed person. my moodiness i dont think it is going to go away, so just ignore it if you can, it is like, i dont know. perpetual pms, i promise it will pass.

and thank you. i was really touched by what you did today. thank you, because i would never have expected it of you, of anyone, for me. i dont know how to handle People Being Sweet. i think i melt or turn to mush.

pick up, pick up yourself. dont you dare play the victim's game when you are lashing up poison as a viper, as rabidly as i am, dont stand at the other end of the battlefield and act like you stumbled into it by some no-fault-of-your-own accident, intending a stroll in your rose garden; dont stand with your sword drawn and your claws at my throat, telling me, i am not part of this fistfight, i am above it, i am above it and things are all your doing. and to think i got so optimisic, i am fed up, i am beyond conversation, i am walking out on this party because i am obviously not the kind of crowd you are catering for. sorry would feel too much like hypocriscy, i would never offer it to you.

i want a crashing rain again, to lose myself if, to wash away my everything and leave me endlessly endlessly happy. jumping in puddles, laughing out loud, im the crazygirl you saw in the movie but i am real and a million times less beautiful, and i last for more than two and a half hours- after which you fidget in your chair and look for a way to leave the theatre unnoticed. (i have close to given up hope of meeting people who are just like me). there was a slice of sunlight on a patch of green grass this afternoon and i just wanted to lie myself down there, and wile things away. i could imagine myself sprawled out like i were on the bahamas, nevermind the standard issue khaki uniform and the everyone else in a hurry to get somewhere else. yes i know why you call me weird, no i wouldnt disagree, if normalcy disallows me from doing these things then certainly certainly, normalcy is over-rated. i would rather bland it down and call it weird rather then try to give some ostentatious medical name to it, i am sorry but i refuse to throw it around anymore, i refuse to say manic depression, i refuse to say schizophrenia. i refuse to become a statistic, i refuse to dull down the value of people who are really hurting, this is one of the things i really hate about you. talk like you know a single thing at all, and then laugh at someone else who really needs help. hello mister understanding how you disgust me, remind me again how i could have thought anything of you at all.

i am clueless and stupid and twisted and impossible but at least i know it.