can't be with anyone

Can't fall asleep.
Can't study.
Can't stop the vertigo.

Sometimes my life is more what it isn't than what it is.

I am sinking, sinking, sank, sunk.



Not sure where I'm headed.

I can't be normal because I refuse to be normal. I wish I wanted to be normal.

I'm not sick I'm just stupid.

PS

Long bouts of isolation punctuated by failures in communication. That is what I meant to describe. Four books in one day and everything is very blurry.

disconnected (disinterested)

Reading too much, sleeping alternatively too much and too little. Nothomb, Sarraute, Zola, Stephen King, Edgar Poe, human anatomy, I make no distinction of the genre, time or space. My fix : intellectual stimulation of the senses.

My dreams are more vivid than reality. At night, I'm a champagne junkie and I wear real pearls ; I'm alone and it's fine. I eat fruit drizzled in balsamic vinegar. I lounge. The champagne flute is ice-cold in my hand.

In the words of Amélie Nothomb herself : « Le champagne est si froid que les bulles ont durçi. On a l'impression de boire de la poussière de diamants. »

My eyes are too dry, but I don't need to see anyone. When I walk outside, my legs feel like lead. Maybe it's the cold. Maybe I'm dying.

I never want to leave this place.

written in the dead of the night

Dear Nobody/Anybody/Everybody/You/Great Void of the Internet,

How can I be seventeen and full of regrets?

When I'm lonely and hopeless, I wish I hadn't become what I am today. It seems so much easier to be like the other girls, to drink at parties and sometimes be ditzy and meet boys and enjoy being around people

I am stuck in who you conceive me to be, this empty, boring shell of a person. You use my pride to keep me here and now and thus, in a state of blatant imperfection and marginality. I cannot change without giving up any pretense of sanity: you will not allow it. Are you my friend? Is this what you want?

I really do wish I could be a part of people. Rather than an outsider looking in.

I gave away my youth for my future. But I'm scared that I set myself up for nothing but failure: if I hit rock bottom, what will I hold onto?

My only hope lies in the tomorrows and the elsewheres. Please, I don't want to be a screw-up. I want to be happy and I want to be me, improved. Not this sad, inadequate loser.

Really, in the dead of the night, I just want to be anything but me right here right now.

How NOT to self-motivate (if you are even moderately sane)

I need to deserve to be alive. This isn't happening right now. I'm faced with the greatest decisions of my life and all I do is sleep and waste time and watch freaking television even if I've never liked it. Why why WHY

Get a move on you worthless, pathetic excuse for a human being GO

or I'll make you fat and lonely and lazy forever