Insides...

On-going

yaoi.queen@gmail.com — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 02:32:15 GMT

Life seems to have come to a stand still, somehow.

As if everything's trapped in an all repeating loop. Time keeps being ticked away by the clocks, life goes on, the world keeps turning and seasons keep changing in their ever unchanging ways; spring, summer, autumn, winter... cleanse, rinse, repeat.

Everything's still the same. Everything's changing but it's still the same.

Routine. Some people tremble in disgust by it, some people know nothing but it. I feel the sudden urge to ask the inevitable, naïvely childish "Why?".

Hate it, love it, ignore it, curse it, embrace it... Is it really that important? What is routine? Is it monotony? Is it boredom, is it feeling fed-up? Aren't people who always do the same, even if they're doing something considered interesting, considered trapped in routine?

I wonder why do we let ourselves become fed-up with our own very lives. Why is that? Why is it so hard to understand, to remember the good things of life, the interesting things? Why is it so hard to see the beauty of our world? To find happiness and satisfaction in everything that's part of our beloved home, this planet we call Earth?

I wonder.

Why do we feel like waking up every morning is only part of the routine?

Impending Doom

yaoi.queen@gmail.com — Mon, 21 May 2007 22:30:55 GMT

I feel on the edge. Not sure of what. I only know, whatever it is?, won’t be pretty.

Snapping, breaking down into a fit of hysterically bawling my eyes out. Probably not even in private.

Life sucks so much lately.

I’m sick of being alone. And I know my whole family is ready to say I’m not alone, in that non-literal, kind-of-metaphysical, non-corporeal kind of way. Well, peachy. I don’t need fucking non-corporeal company.

I need a fucking hug. Badly. Or a fuck. The later, though, could be dangerous, considering I’m a little unstable right now. Let’s give thanks for my aversion to sex. Especially since I don’t have anyone I’m interested in.

But I digress.

I need a hug right now. Like a junkie needs a fix. Probably more. I feel so fucked up. Again, let’s thank I’m not suicidal. Everything’s just… too much.

No.

Too little, most likely. I’ve been trying to deal with a real heavy depression for a while now, without professional help or professional drugs. Yay for me. It hasn’t been funny. At all.

I think it’s winning.

I don’t recommend doing the same; and I mean the help, not the drugs.

School sucks, I’m away from home and my family and friends. I don’t have a lot of friends over here either, and the ones I have seem to be dealing with their own life and issues. Not time for me I guess. I’m not one to impose on others either. Have limited money, can’t go out much. Not fun to go out alone anyway.

I wish I had someone that cared, y’know? Someone that cared enough to look out for me, to call, to look me out for whatever; someone I didn’t need to call first like the desperate little mess I am right now and that I hate I’m being.

I’m screaming so loud inside but I can’t let it be heard or I’ll fall apart and break into little pieces, and I don’t want people to treat me like I’m made of fucking fragile glass. I want to scream until my throat is raw and I can taste blood in my mouth. I want to cry until I’m dizzy with breathlessness and half deaf with the blood pounding in my head.

But, as much as I want to give in and do exactly that, I can’t. I can’t break down. It would take too much time to pick up the pieces and put them back together in some semblance of order.

To have a nervous break down is a luxury I can’t afford.

Paid account

yaoi.queen@gmail.com — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 22:28:59 GMT

*Amused* Can you believe I've paid the next two months? I think I'm gonna be entertained for a while checking out the new features! *rubs hands evil-plottingly-ish*

*Goes off to make personalized emoticons*

Journal entries

yaoi.queen@gmail.com — Thu, 27 Apr 2006 21:55:52 GMT

Um, it's really, and I mean *REALLY*, weird of me to be doing this. I don't do diaries (journals, in this case), not since a long, long time. I'm not constant with them, I rarely use them... and when I do is to let out and express feeings I don't want anyone else witnessing or knowing about.

Diaries, journals, are dangerous things. They hold secrets and feelings and sometimes some of the most ugly things inside us. True, they also hold our likes, our dreams our happiness and our most loved memories, our most precious thoughts.

So... what if this knowledge falls on the wrong hands?

It could just be embarrassing, that someone you know reads it. But it could also be a weapon that can be used against you. There's some secrets that can hold a lot of power over the owner.

I tend to get too involved. The journal becomes an outlet and my entries turn too personal. I tend to avoid diaries at all costs.

Why am I here, then? I wish I knew.

Maybe it's because there's people who are interested enough in me to add me to their "friends list" and maybe I want them to know a little more about me than just "oh, she's a weird girl from a comm". Maybe it's because I don't have much to do this day, maybe because I'm bored or maybe because it suddenly started raining shrimps and lemon marshmallows and I found myself with the unexplainable urge of writing in my lj account.

Who the heck knows? It's already written.

~*~

Um... es muy, y quiero decir *MUY*, raro de mí el que esté haciendo esto. No escribo diarios, no desde hace mucho, mucho tiempo. No soy constante con ellos, raramente los uso... y cuando lo hago es para dejar salir y expresar emociones que no quiero que nadie vea o sepa de ellas.

Los diarios son cosas peligrosas. Guardan secretos y sentimientos y en ocasiones algunas de las más feas cosas que hay en nuestro interior. Cierto, también contienen nuestros gustos, nuestros sueños, nuestra felicidad y nuestras más amadas memorias, nuestros más amados pensamientos.

Entonces... ¿qué si este conocimiento cae en manos equivocadas?

Podría ser solamente embarazoso, si es leído por algún conocido. Pero también podría ser un arma para ser usada en nuestra contra. Hay secretos que pueden tener un gran poder sobre el dueño.

Tiendo a involucrarme demasiado. El diario se convierte en una salida y mis entradas se vuelven demasiado personales. Tiendo a evadir los diarios a toda costa.

¿Por qué estoy aquí, entonces? Desearía saberlo.

Tal vez es porque hay personas interesadas en mí lo suficiente como para agregarme a sus listas de amigos, y tal vez quiero que sepan un poco de mí además de "oh, es una chica rara que conocí en una comunidad". Tal vez es porque no tenía nada que hacer este día, tal vez es porque estoy aburrida o tal vez es porque empezaron a llover camarones y bombones de limón y me entró la inexplicable urgencia de escribir en mi cuenta de lj.

¿Quién rayos sabe? Ya está escrito.