Sir, this is for you
hey look.... my first entry
I hate how this stupid website only does one time zone...
It sucks writing the date and time down for every entry..
Thurs, Dec 30
Alright, now that I've come up with this whole journal
idea, I'm not sure how I should go about it. I mean, do I
act like I'm writing this for you or do I pretend that
it's for me and me alone and that you (he?) can't read it?
Wow I'm confused.
Um... hmm.... I think second person is nicer but it
reminds me that there's a purpose to this and that makes
me choke up... But on the other hand, third person sounds
so.. stuffy... or something.
Oh look, it's 12 am.. New Year's Eve's Day. Heh. I know
I'm supposed to be in bed right now, but I couldn't sleep.
Don't hate me for it. I did clean and everything though.
But when I got into bed I was just like, "oh fuck this"
and went online.
Oh shit, here comes writers' block. It's really not my
fault though. There's so much going through my head but
I'm so afraid to write it all down because I'm afraid that
you'll just say that I'm having an episode or some such.
But mostly, they're not episodes. It's just my
personality. I'm morbid and dark and sarcastic by nature.
I can't help it. But I guess I never really showed you
that or something because whenever it inadvertently comes
out, you freak out on me.
When I was a little girl, I used to play with Barbies.
Actually, I played with them up until the middle of
seventh grade. I didn't just dress them up and do their
hair, though. Each time I played with them, they'd be
different characters with different names, different
personalities, different problems. I'd create intricate
little worlds for them. These were the worlds in which I
belonged. No, they weren't loaded with rainbows and
sugarplums; they were dark, dangerous places filled with
strangers hiding behind scraggly trees. The funny thing
about these treacherous lands was that I felt more
comfortable traversing them than I did the real world.
It's still like that. I can't stand the here and now.
Wherever here is.... All I know is that I don't belong. I
feel like my spacecraft has crash-landed into a strange,
faraway place where the images are distorted and the
voices are muffled. All my life I've been searching for
that one little pathway that will take me back to
wherever "home" is... I think that I may have found that
secret road. But now that I've found it, I'm afraid to
take the first steps and start my journey...
See?! This is what goes through my mind! It's not because
of some bullshit medical diagnosis! It's me! Madeline! My
thoughts have always been like that... And we both know
that I wasn't a manic depressive at age seven. I wish I
knew how to explain how to distinguish episodes from my
character. I try hard to, but it doesn't come. I only know
in my head. When I'm having an episode, there's this small
part of my mind that detatches itself from my body and
just kind of hangs out on the ceiling watching. Sometimes,
it tries to quell the rest of me; but usually, it just
hovers over me and observes, waiting for the rest of me to
settle down so it can re-attach itself.