Saturday, July 09, 2005 // 1:12 AM

26 June 2005

ella. hello ella. what's wrong with you. it's almost like you're feeling the need to be addicted to something, like things wouldnt be right if you were perfectly clean. ella. ella please tell me why you're doing this to yourself, please say that it is the heady fog of sleep depravation. whatever the reason. didnt you just say, weeks ago, i dont need substance to survive? ella. ella are you pretending, ella is this one of those crying-out-for-help things, and if so, who is it that you think might be coming to save you? knights in shining armour went extinct with the dinosaurs, and friends, friends of any sort. you have friends, you know, ella why are you doing this, is it some cheap trick to call attention to yourself, call pity, call sympathy. hello everybody look at ella if not she is going to self combust. why are you doing this. ella. ELLA. ELEANOR. you act like you want to be screwed up, you act like you want to be screwed up forever. you act like you can't help it, you play the victim's card and would like to pretend that you're all apple pie innocent, manipulative bitch. and what are you thinking, like you can compartmentalize your life to a point where you can separate things like these from the rest of your everyday, skeletons in the closet but alive, having a party and a life of their own. ella like you can hide it and still be happynormal, ella like you can hide it from God. God. God hello God. God i'm sorry because i think i act like this on purpose, i'm sorry because it's not as simple as me giving in to depravity, it's me actively pursuing it, hunting it down. Lord. Lord i'm sorry but i dont know what to call this, i dont have a name for it Lord. i'm sorry because it's in these things that i fling myself far away from You, Lord, i'm sorry Lord please dont let me do this to you. please dont let me, please. help me to be okay, to be Normally okay. Lord help me to fight it because Lord i can't do it on my own, i can't even want to, properly, on my own.

hours later, 26 June 2005

i have nothing in the palm of my hand. i am a monster, i am a monster. i am a strange and ordinary. 21st century monster. doling out tears like the antidote to all my frustrated nothingness. frustrated nothingness. what if i closed my mind and could be transported somewhere else. take me to the sea or take me away from everything recognizable. stop saying the word 'symptom' to me, i defy you. i will be the abnormaly you were forced to cut out of the picture, to render all this social oranisation possible. you might stick me with the lunatics, i am in their. close company.

there is nothing wrong with me there is nothing wrong. i am completely lucid, completely sane, and i wonder if the insane can form the words in their heads: i am sane. but i am sane, i am perfectly normal, ask anyone. weird habits that i have do not excuse me from sanity's claws.

i want substance to put things right. i want more shivers of caffeine, i want a lungful of cigarette smoke, a mouthful, that is not enough to derail myself, but might be enough to make me feel. alright. a-okay. return to me my daughter with her clothes bleeding nicotine.

ma. would you rather have an insane psycho trainwreck basket case, or an occasional sometime nicotine addict. i say occasional because, i believe in willpower.

and if this is just a cry for help, who is the crying out for? what do i say to my rescuers, my salaried apathetic knights in shining armour?

further later, 26 June 2005

you. you started here and here is where you should stop. because. because you woke up feeling screwy and you screwed the rest of the day up, as a result. ella. ella you are stable now, the very fact that you're able to tell someone else, that you can purge this skeleton, before it starts to dance. ella some wholesome part of me is proud of you, some part of me says ella well done. but another part is derisive, another part goes oh look at her unable to take the pressure, oh look at her unable to handle. crumbling to pieces, finding excuses for all the things she doesnt want to face, doesnt want to handle. look at her running away, look at her now cutting herself a huge chunk of slack. girl. girl you can handle it, girl you can suck it up you should have sucked it up girl stop whining stop feeling sory for yourself. stop curling up with yourself. gone from beign a sensation junkie to being a therapy junkie. how pathetic is that.




and too much of the time i feel: i am just so different that people will never be able to relate. you will never be able to relate. i. im bitter about how normal you seem to be, im bitter because things just seem so much easier for someone like you. how can i explain, the kind of girl that i am. i stand next to you and all i feel is my own filth, all i feel is my own degradation. all i feel is judgement, my own depravity. because i feel rejected this can be my only response: to withdraw from this deprecating society, to put the gulf in between us and acknowledge the difference irrevocable. and i want to believe that whatever the differences they can always be worked out, but now all i am feeling is you will never be able to understand. and i cant blame you for the way you react, the same way i wouldnt know that marvin's figures of speech arent literal, the same way he wouldnt know to stop carelessly using the word schizophrenia, around me. i just think we cannot relate, or our concerns are worlds apart, and though i want to believe that all obstacles can be surpassed, there is still the different directions in which we are going, the different far too vastly different backgrounds from which we are speaking. or rather, i can be like that, a great fat lot deal of the time, but. but i have this extra corner, this extra leg, that is too big a part of me to attempt to ignore. i cant ignore, i cant bring myself to close my eyes to it and pretend like it's not there. it's there and it's not going away. all i know now is not to drag you into my dilemma, the vortex that is my mind. once again disappointed, once again disillusioned with the company i am keeping. things go no deeper, or we dance in simplicity's surf, and at the end of the day the hugest things i am left to on my very own.

so was i supposed to have turned my head off, completely, the way you seem to be asking me to? was i supposed to have been cured of myself overnight (and maybe i was), was i supposed to have said something i dont truly, fully feel. was i supposed to hold back the unsimplification. i am still the freak in your parade, i dont want to be topsy turvy but i am, why are things so simple for you. dont answer that, you know you are at the end of the day just full to the brim of all the model answers in the world. i cant take the simplification, at least acknowledge the richness of the content, the layers upon layers, how mind boggling things can truly be. we stand behind each of our points of view, saying i believe i'm right, i believe i'm right. of course i dont think you've got the perfect answer, of course i'm asking a complicated question. i cant ask you to speak to me on my terms because you wouldnt have the first idea, how to. so maybe this is why i have such a huge network of Screwed Up Friends, they are the only people who i feel i can really relate to. when i say something at least i know you understand, i know you care, i know you can easy empathize because you can feel every issue happening to yourself. it is a different world we live in, can you imagine being any different from the way you are now?

we climbed onto the church roof, we laughed clambering all over old construction bits, stone and ledge and the three storey drop. we scaled a wall and went crazy with laughter, i trusted daniel for three whole seconds and because of that i got thru, i wouldnt have done so otherwise because i am not brandon, i cannot conquer it with a simple bound. i thought of crashing thru the ceiling and landing in the sanctuary, i looked straight down over the edge and i could feel myself falling, falling. and i sat next to the church bell and looked up at God, and i had a conversation that gave me peace, that brought me away from the rest of the world. because at the end of the day it is just between me and God, that is the only thing that need be right in my world. what a dangerous notion, what a dangerous notion because i could imagine myself unaccountable to other Christians. perhaps all i am saying is of our own imprefection, the gulf between what is perceived and the so-called reality, sometimes, all the time. if i were everything people thought of me, how could there be any hope for me at all.

so i feel like the once-again bad influence, the once-again free radical. maybe i cant do anything in the orthodox fashion.