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2014-02-15 07:58:34 (UTC)

What Is Your Childhood Trauma?!

"Car Radio" by Twenty One Pilots

Sometimes quiet is violent
I find it hard to hide it
My pride is no longer inside
It's on my sleeve
My skin will scream reminding me of
Who I killed inside my dream
I hate this car that I'm driving
There's no hiding for me
I'm forced to deal with what I feel
There is no distraction to mask what is real
I could pull the steering wheel

I have these thoughts, so often I ought
To replace that slot with what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole my car radio
And now I just sit in silence

February 15, 2014 Saturday 8:00 AM

Why am I awake this early? Because I did not take my pill. My parents forgot and then they were asleep and I told myself, "Later," but then it was three AM, then four, so I decided to just let it go and I figured I'd get tired and fall asleep at some time.

I should've known better. I'm wired.

I feel dirty. I want to take a shower to wash myself clean of thoughts and everything else.

Later, I will regret accidentally skipping my Seroquel (300 mg) because I will start to feel tired but not tired, and then I'll feel anxious and sick.

I'll deal with that when it comes.

My hands are clean, they smell like lilacs because that's the kind of soap we have.

I want love and then I don't. They say ignorance is bliss, but is it if you're not completely ignorant?

I watch love everyday. Right in front of my eyes, weaved into stories, blaring from speakers, love is everywhere it's intoxicating it's sad it's scary it's a combination of things and I don't know how I feel.

Being awake, I can't stop thinking. These are slow thoughts, though. They take their time and take care not to agitate the acid in my stomach.

Sometimes quiet is violent.

I don't like being all like, "Ehhh I'm damaged I don't open up to people, I'm a damsel in distress and I'm dark and mysterious ehhh"

But... minus the dark, mysterious, damsel in distress part, that's who I am right now. I'm sorry I talk so much about it, but I need to know more and I need to know how to kill it. Kill it slightly, not all the way.

I envy people who speak their minds and... and are just happy with who they are. And can open and close themselves whenever they please.

I'm afraid to be vulnerable with even myself, because I'm a judgemental bitch who is only this way because she's trying to prepare me for the real world.

I forget that no one cares and this is a good thing.

This song does not match my mood, but I really love the lyrics and the voice is awesome so I'll just.. listen.

How do I do this people thing? How do I know when to stop talking? How do I know when to open up?

Do my friends really know anything about me? Do they? Do they know what my room looks like? Or how my living room is set up? Do they remember things I've said? Who do they think I am?

No, seriously, who am I to them? Can they only care about me to a certain extent because I don't know when to speak up or shut up?

I remember when I was little, friends were so much easier to make. Still hard for me but easier. I was.. a little me. One time I was afraid that I would be made fun of for having a boy best friend or that he wouldn't like my house or something so I got really mad at him for "killing" by ghost purse and we have not really spoken since then. That was second grade, but it's pretty accurate.

I fool myself. I'm real good at it. I'm real good at convincing myself something is really important, really necessary, and really close to my emotions when it shouldn't mean shit and deep down it doesn't.

For example: this is stupid, but tv show or book characters.

Once in seventh grade I thought so hard I convinced myself that I believed Percy Jackson was real and I was a demigod and the greek gods were real. I prayed to the greek gods. I really did. I made myself think it was the truth but it was brief.

It hurt me though. It hurt me because it didn't matter to me at first, but I made it significant. I built a small fantasy world that I should've belonged in and then shattered it.

I remember when Lily was my best friend and I hit her in the head with a baseball bat. It made her cry so I hit myself on the head with a baseball bat, though with a lot less force. I think I hit her because I could.

I think it was one of those moments where you think, "It would be so easy to just..."

The way it'd be so easy to just push a person out a window. It'd be so easy to kill people in cold blood as long as you didn't a fuck about anything. There's always a catch but it'd be easy and they wouldn't be able to stop me.

I've gone on an imagination trip. I'm gonna keep going.

So yeah we were best friends. We fought, we were selfish, but we were also just really good friends.

I don't have anything like that now.

It's strange.

I realize I'm alone when I realize that I feel like someone is watching my every move. Not in a paranoid way but a... what's the name of that movie with Jim Carrey where he is a tv show without knowing it?? The Truman Show.

Yeah. I realize that subconsciously, everything I do is just a little bit stage, a little bit fake because I...

I don't like this. I'm too deep into my head right now.

Happy valentines day. Mine was miserable. Whatever. It had nothing to do with love.

The title of this entry is a reference to Cordelia from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She'd say it all sassy and rude and it just stuck in my head.

I realized I really like socks. My hands and feet get really cold and clammy. Socks help keep them warm and comfortable. But right now they are no help.

Good morning. Have a good day. Don't think too much. Everything will be okay. If you don't sweat the details now, then it will be no big deal later.

Happiness is easy to achieve when you're fine with your flaws and don't expect much.

What am I.... here I am, turning into an imaginary person in my head again. Some always-happy man from Georgia or something.

Not literally. Nothings wrong with me, I know that can be misleading (other than having an artistic brain as many have told me. Thank you. I like thinking of it that way. I do remember the little things. I'm just quiet) but yeah... I just.

Times like these, my thoughts and my writings are aimless. I'm wandering through my mind. It's a learning experience but it's dangerous because sometimes it triggers depression.

I feel very zen. Ew. Sometimes I look at myself from the outside and I'm like, "Who are you right now, Veronica? WHo are you ever? DO you just choose your favorite personality and remember yourself as that?"

Now I feel less zen. My brain is just trying to keep me as balanced as it can but it just tips the scales even more. They rock violently back and forth and then settle and then my brain pokes something and they rock violently and so on.

I guess most would say the important part is that I survive.

What is important though? It's important to buy bread when you'd like to eat it. It's important to see a loved one when you know they're going to die soon.

Everything is so different and I seriously feel like a ghost just... drifting. Is this how philosophers feel? How do they ever organize their thoughts long enough to spit out something wise?

Fun Fact: The "british" accent developed around the early nineteenth century. Technically, that means an older form of the "american" accent existed longer. So shakespeare and stuff, they spoke all american-like. Or as similar as it could be back then. We can barely read Frankenstein without being like, "WTF??" so how the hell are we supposed to know what accents were like back then.

Anyway, yeah. The british accent formed as a sign of status among higher class people. I guess technically, the american accent isn't even american.

Whatever. Fuck it all. Back to the walking dead... yes I'm a loser, but I don't care go away.

I'm stupid, ahha. In this entry (which was superlong, sorry about that) I rambled and my sentences might make no sense because I didn't revise this entry because who has time for that shit but anyway

SORRY. If you read this, I would like to hug you but like most things, there wouldn't be much of a point. Technically, there is no point to anything because if you think that way, everything falls away pretty fast.

Just nothing.

So yeah, things matter. But that's more complicated than my "there is no point" thing. Go think about that if you want.

Asta la vista, fuckers. *Insert random spanish words like shoe, stairs, tomatoes, and sister - I can barely think clearly in english, how the fuck do you expect me to think in spanish i cant even spell in spanish*


PS: Weirdly, I speak spanish most easily when I'm shopping with my mom. Probably because we're alone and I feel less pressured to speak perfectly. I like it because it reminds me of when I was a kid. I grew up understanding both languages and I dunno... When I visited Nicaragua, I was one of them for awhile and I liked that. Latin culture tends to be more laid back and it's so much healthier than this stupid american lifestyle with SO MANY EXPECTATIONs. Sometimes I wish I had a friend who spoke spanish but when I say that to Laney, she says "talk to Jason" and I'm like no because he's not my friend, not even an aquaintance. No eye contact. That says enough. Adios. Have a beautiful time. Wow this was a long ps.