daydream disbeliever

Mad Ramblings From a Blithering Idiot
2001-09-27 08:24:13 (UTC)

Another fucking white night...

This makes three in a row, although this one is the
worst. It's after four, and I'm wide awake. Not for lack
of trying to sleep, however. I've tried to doze three
times. I just can't do it; sleep eludes me like Dinah in
the back yard.

Jason does not like me. It's been too long (three
weeks) and no word at all from him. I suppose it's for the
best, though, because whenever I have something (or
someone) and I've grown to love and appreciate it, it
inevitably becomes ruined or taken away. So despite my
literally aching arms, I don't need anyone in which to hold
them. Or so I try to tell myself. I'll never find anyone,
so why the hell do I even bother? I'm a paltry, pitiful
loser who no one gives a damn about, least of all myself.
I would kill myself, but I'm too chicken shit. I think
about suicide a lot, though. For the past seven years I've
had a recurring flirtation with it. Should I "go
beautifully" like Hedda Gabbler? Or would an overdose of
pills and alcohol do the trick? A personal lynching? Oh,
happy dagger... There are lots of ways I could do it, each
with its own appeal. But as aforementioned, I'm just too
cowardly to go through with it.

It's not that I love life; I hate it, in fact. It's
just that this extremely annoying survival instinct keeps
thrusting up its ugly head every time I have the
opportunity to die of unnatural causes not of my own hand.
I have anecdotes, I just don't want to tell them because
they exasperate me. My damnable sense of humour keeps
getting in the way, as well. I'm too resilliant and too
yellow bellied at the same time. Damn me. I can't stand
being in the same room with myself. I'm trapped in a
bodily prison and I have no idea when the sentence will
end.

Perhaps if I had something to actually live for...
Who am I kidding? There's nothing. I once thought there
was something, but it doesn't exist. It's only a false
thing that lies in wait for its stupid unwitting prey and
then unleashes its evil by leaving. L-O-V-E...what a
stupid thing. Of course, I could change my mind. I'm
fickle in that sense. Fickle. I like that word. Not the
meaning, just the word.

Tonight as I was trying to sleep I saw the old Walt
Disney version of "The Ugly Duckling". To this day, it
makes me cry. I wept for twenty minutes over it. My
entire life I've cried with that baby. I can empathize,
and only hope that one day I'll find my fellow cygnets.
Bah. As if that'll ever happen. I'll leave on that note
and until next time remain the always hideously ugly

K.