The Bringer of Pain to Your Face's LiveJournal

Subject:	Too Much Information
Time:	4:05 pm.
Mood:	IDenyTheChargesThatI'mInDenial.
Music:	Paul Oakenfold-'Feeling Weird'.

Y'know, I just thought of something fun to do. While I'm revealing too much, since Junior J. Junior seems to enjoy it at least, I think I'll tell my life's story.

So I was born in Ohio. My mother was a schizophrenic and unable to take care of me and my father left when he found out I was going to be born. They were 22 and 23, I think. I lived with my mom and grandparents for most of my earlier life. When I was two/three they took me to Florida to live for a while since my dad's parents lived there. He was not there, obviously. They sent me to pre-school when I was three and I objected. A lot. I was at my most anti-social then, perhaps. I refused to associate with any of the other kids. The one memory I do have of actually getting into playing with them, I was scolded for it since we were picking berries and the teacher didn't like that. Then they moved me back here. There wasn't much solidarity in creating rules or a world of concrete truth for me. Everyone was always fighting, arguing, and no one could agree on how to raise me. I ended up being able to convince them to give me what I wanted most of the time. When I played, it was often alone, until I started to find people I could boss around. They liked it, too. I was very convincing. They wanted to follow me, for me to tell them what to do. This type of play continued for years. I was always inventing some club or game or art project for others to take part in. Very creative I was. I started writing when I was a small child. I liked writing poetry on the typewriter and then making related pictures with colored pencils. This has no relevence. I just wanted to share. I remember when I was real young and my mom would be periodically sent to the mental hospital where she would do the sterotypical weaving of stuffed animals or something. I didn't understand what it meant at the time. When I was twelve they sent me away to live with my aunt. I didn't understand why they were sending me away. Then she and I moved in with her boyfriend and she married him. Later I found out she bought this house and got married just so they could adopt me, but the law wouldn't let that happen. My dad showed up at some point, earlier on, when I was still living with my grandparents. He tried to persuade me to move to Boston to live with him, and continously told me that there was no way my mom and I would ever have a place to live together. He then disappeared again after I was living with my aunt. I had called him one day to ask him if he wanted to come visit for some holiday or something and he said, "I don't think that would be such a good idea after what happened last time." Yes I remember the exact words. I couldn't figure out what he meant by "what happened last time," though, since I thought everything had been just fine. Must have been something I didn't know about. I sent presents on Christmas like we always did, and continued to call, but my efforts were ignored and there was no response, no efforts for me. I then moved in with my mom at thirteen and we moved to at least four different apartments in the next two years. I was always made to move around a lot. Throughout my childhood, in school, I was very antisocial and didn't like to talk to other people. I didn't smile. I remember telling someone once that "I worry a lot" when I was in like, kindergarten. I've always worried a lot. I was the one who tried to get my mom to finally get a place with me. I wrote out the budget based on what information I had, over and over. I was 12 at the time. I think I've felt some sort of responsibility for things for a long time. I still don't like talking to people, and I still worry a lot.

Again, please do not comment on this. Especially since I don't even know most of you and you'll probably just annoy me.

I'll probably write more later. Write. I hate that word.

Comments: 2 owwwwwwww!s -break off a limb.

Subject:	Do you read these in order or backwards like me?
Time:	8:54 am.
Mood:	BecauseTheyMakeMoreSenseWhen.
Music:	Tori Amos-'God'.

Mmm...I'm going to write more. I hate that word now. "Write."

I suppose I could be at least a little ashamed about the letters because I'm scared to even look at what I wrote. What the fuck did that cryptic poetry he wrote mean? I neglect to even really try to analyze it anymore cause he would never really tell me what it meant so who the fuck knows, maybe I was just insane thinking whatever I might have thought. It was sort of long. He asked, "Are you looking for the truth?" over and over and in this one part he said "does anyone even care does anyone know how i love them so". So, um, am I supposed to assume he's talking about me? It was in response to what I said, apparantly addressed to me. I remember telling Janette about stuff he wrote on there, little romantic things in his writings, stuff he'd sent me before but then added in new little parts. I told her I thought he might have been talking about me, and she laughed and asked who else would he be talking about. She doesn't even know him and all that but I do like to talk about my situations. I guess I should assume they're for me. Just fucking say it to my face. It's not supposed to be so important, I'm not supposed to care, I'm angry that I need a man, I'm sad.

Comments: break off a limb.

Subject:	Obsession
Time:	7:55 am.
Mood:	DoYouTrustMeWithYrSharpThings?.
Music:	The Trancecore Project-'Flashback' (Greencourt mix).

I come home from work with the stench of garbage on my hands and no matter how many times I wash my hands it doesn't seem to come off. I am disgusted. I have to get out of here. I have to go away. I have become real stalker material. I know a lot of people like to kid around about stuff like that, and I'm not sure of the legal definition, but I will not leave Jonathan alone. I sent him about six e.mails in the course of the past couple days. I don't feel ashamed. I have nothing to lose. I go to work at the grocery store and I see the best sellers for sale. Then look where I am. Misery feels so good now. I don't want to care. I want to make an ass of myself. I want to scare people. I want to drive away all the faint of heart to see who my true fans (/friends?) are. I don't want to be fake.

I want to beat my neighbors with a steel bat. I want to see them bleed from their eye sockets. No, that's too gross. How about from their genitals. Yes. I hope they're men.

Music has always made everything okay, better than anything else could. When no person was there for me, I always had music to console me. I don't want anyone to ever take music away from me. Do you know how many times they would play their shitty mainstream rap music while I was sick and trying to sleep? And now they show me again their hypocrisy.

NO.

There is no where for me to go to be okay. No where to be alone. No where to not be harrassed. Today as I patiently and cautiously looked for a point at which I could pull onto the street, the car behind me honked its horn, then pulled out in front of me and sped off. I am very cautious and safe and I know how to drive. This person made me feel like there is something wrong with that. These road rage fucks need to take their agression out somewhere else. Stabbing their relatives or something. Lest I stab them.

I keep inadvertantly try to grasp inspiration for my writing from the world around me, and then I remember, I'M NOT WRITING. I need to calm down. I stopped one other time in the past year and a half and that was for a week and a half, when I was in Iceland. But I still got inspired, and I wrote in my diary (every) day. Just the thought of thinking about all that makes me want to get sick again.

People make way too big a deal out of life and I think I'm one of them. Expecting to "accomplish" "great" "things" and "get ahead" and some other copyrighted commercial crap. "This is your life, this is your fucking life," etcetera. How about "This is only your life"? How about not being so fucking attached? Maybe I should be trying to hit bottom as well.

I was thinking the (one) thing that keeps me from posting in here constantly with really long entries like I've been doing is the thought of these weirdos who complain about "use the lj cut" or like, whatever shit. Dude/tte, it's a fucking bunch of text to scroll past. How easy must our lives be? Calm the fuck down. I'll be writing whatever and however much I want to. Don't fucking read it then. Another thing, if I want to make such an ass out of myself, maybe I should be revealing more. Yeah I was thinking what keeps me from doing that is that a lot of you I sort of (and I stress sort of) know in the tangible world. But, not to offend, how many of you people on here would really even be considered my friend, or even acquaintance? Some of you I've barely seen in tangible world. And the rest I see rarely. Some of you probably haven't known how much I cared/care about you. Too much, most likely. I care too much about everyone I care about. I care too much about Jonathan. It's just an ideal now. An image, an idea. He is no longer a person to me. He does not respond to me. It would seem as though I am not "taking the hint" or some other horrible cliche, but in fact I know that he really loves me so I don't care what you or he says. I wish I could get him to admit it though cause I need to be loved, so much. I am so lonely. I haven't had a "conventional" "relationship" in about two years, despite all the men I constantly mention, and the people who are around are never around for long. You can't just bring a child up teaching it that it is worthless and suddenly tell it at 16 that it's wrong to have sex with someone who hits you. I am willing to sacrifice. I'll cooperate. I just need to be convinced that I'm worthy of being loved. Why? I do not know.

I don't say that often.

Y'know something amusing, I found out that I can sue my ex-boyfriend for giving me genital herpes. Hahahaha. How ridiculous. I was hesitant at first because he would probably come and kill me if I did that. He was a real stalker. But I like money. There are a lot worse things he did to me than that. Like the three other girls he fucked, one being his cousin and another being thirteen. Or the domestic violence. Or the not stop calling my house and my friends and driving my new boyfriend away and showing up at my house randomly with his 13 year old to-be wife when they lived four hours away. I still couldn't get a restraining order. They said he had to do something else to me. I hate involving the law anyway. I hope Jonathan doesn't get a restraining order on me. If I knew where he lived you can bet I would just show up there. I will find out. And I will just show up there. I will convince him to admit it. Admit he loves me. We're all nothing but ideals anymore.

Please don't comment on this. I'm sick of your advice.

Comments: 3 owwwwwwww!s -break off a limb.

Subject:	Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and
Time:	2:53 pm.
Mood:	better.
Music:	Samuel Barber-'Adagio For Strings' (William Orbit mix).

I need to calm down. Like, in general. I have needed to since like, I was born. I have physical things coming up as a result of all the mental.. anguish I put myself through. I've been grinding my teeth together more than ever lately, I think. I can feel it when I wake up. I didn't realize for a long time what caused it until I went to the dentist one time and someone told me I was too young to be so stressed. Ha. I think I started doing it when I was like, ... at least eleven. I can see and feel holes in my teeth now. Cavities or old fillings that might not be working anymore. And a wisdom tooth coming in. I still wouldn't mind knowing what the fuck has caused me to be so sick these past couple days. I have an idea that it could have something to do with finally coming off of antibiotics. For something unrelated, but my doctor said from taking them I could become weaker to other diseases. Wow. And they made it sound so simple on the commercial. I was on them for a year. I didn't take any medicine in the last couple days. I want my immune system to be able to take care of itself. Tell me, how important is flossing to the health of teeth? What about mouthwash? Is there any validity whatsoever to using mouthwash? I was reading a book that started off by telling me what a useless product mouthwash is. How they had to invent the disease in order to sell the product. I guess that happens a lot.

How do I calm down? Do I just decide to? Stop caring? 'Go with the flow,' so to speak? "Stop trying to control everything and just let go"? Probably not the worst advice.

I'm sorry I haven't sent you those links yet, Mr. Avatar, but I haven't been able to even bring myself to think about it really. I think thinking about all that was what made me feel this way to begin with. Too much to think about.

I wish I could get back to how I used to feel. Where everything wasn't such a big deal.

I keep trying to i.m. Mr. Ramiel, but he is not available. ): I'd like to talk to him again.

Why do all our relationships end as soon as one little thing goes wrong? I'm so sick of that. There's always someone else. Always someone better 'out there.' It's strange, something someone said in response to Dr. Sinister (hahaha I love all these silly aliases) 's journal where he complained (like I often do) about no one calling him or making the effort to be his friend. Apparantly you're a loser if you don't have friends, but everyone is too busy to make the effort to be anyone's friend. You're also a loser if you have free time ("Free time is for sissies." -Jon). This doesn't seem to fit somehow. How does anyone have friends? This person tells the Dr. that the way you have friends is by calling them. Well I think that's what HE was just telling everyone who was reading his journal. It's like two people arguing, "You call me!"/"No! YOU call ME!" for hours on end. I thought Rob did call people anyway. It's true.. He was complaining about no one calling him except me, but he doesn't call me. I might be dragging this issue on for a while, but it interests me since I live in a world full of people who are too busy to be my friend. Eventually there has to be some mutual effort on the part of friends. Doesn't there?

On a seemingly unrelated (I like that phrase) note, I made an ass out of myself for Jon again. He's still ignoring me. Though he did respond to something I wrote on his site. He responded with cryptic poetry. Some surprise there. Sometimes I get all paranoid like what if he's reading this.. But I don't want to have anything to hide. I tell him everything anyway, when he'll listen. When will I get over all of this? I'm obsessed. Fucking obsessed. CONNECTION ! I want connection. Now. Understanding. Love. Devotion.

Yeah, sometimes I feel like I don't want to decide for myself what I'm going to do. If there are so many options, it's hard to choose. But I also don't like being told what to do.

I'm having more normal dreams. This morning I went into a grocery store just as they were closing and asked this person who was covering up the produce if I could get some onions before they closed. The person stared blankly back at me as I repeatedly tried to explain myself using the same words. "I don't think that's strange," I said. But I was pretty sure he did. Then the food I wanted changed to something else, and eventually, finally, I got it, and moved on. I was in an Icelandic high school, and went to the cafeteria so I could get some water and maybe some other foods to go with what I had. I couldn't figure out how to get into the food part though. I saw Neil in the hall. (Good old Neil, we knew each other since we were kids, he was this metal guy who moved to Florida when we were 16. So many people I've known have something to do with Florida.) So I went out into this big outdoor eating area with tables like in a cafeteria, and there were a bunch of preppy girls like from my school there. I sat down and then realized I was sitting at the table with Nicoletta (Greg's ex) and Kayla (metal girl), but I was sitting behind them, with hardly any room, and not being paid attention to. I soon got up, angry from feeling ignored and out of place. There was a Sepultura show going on there, and I started running right to the pit. It was hard to run though, so instead I skipped. I reached down and felt my ankle, probably looking like I was hurt, and I felt a metal (not actual metal) bracelet thingy on it. Soon I could only walk as I approached the pit. There was some sample playing then, where this guy said he reached into his pocket and there was a Charles Manson shirt in it, and also...a hand. At this point a bunch of preppy girls in the audience screamed at the prospect of this man reaching around in his pocket and finding a hand. Some of them ran away, and one of them ran right into me, slamming me in the teeth. I think there might have been some kind of smoky explosion at that moment where everyone started freaking out. Me and this girl ended up on the ground. I neglected to actually talk cause I didn't think it would be good for my teeth. They hurt. So instead I just hummed the theme to The Smurfs. And looked out behind us at a darkened, dreary winter forest/sky scene.

Comments: break off a limb.

Subject:	I'll Miss You All..
Time:	12:36 pm.
Mood:	sick.
Music:	Paul Oakenfold-'Imagery'.

I'm really sick. I haven't been sick like this in a long time. I feel really hot and my head and neck is sore and slightly naseous at times. And I sort of have a cough. I don't know what to do except sleep and drink a lot of water. I have a slight fear of dying right now. When I was little, I had a cold or fever or something and I remember my grandma yelling about how I was going to die if I didn't ...do something. Take pills or drink something. I remember thinking "I'm going to die." I was scared. But I guess she exaggerated because I'm not dead.

I haven't talked to anyone today. Someone just called here but I didn't get up to answer it. If it was someone cool, I wish they'd call again. Do any of you know what I can do to avoid dying? I kept having all these half-dreams about small publishing companies. They're haunting me now. I feel as though this must have been caused by stress of some sort. Maybe it was just finding out that the dream I put above everything else and worked so hard and long for, might not happen after all. I was reading about writers who said there's an average six years of rejection when you are trying to be published. But then, how do I know they don't just suck? Oh my God, I don't feel good. I wish I could just feel better so I don't have to be sick next time I go to work. I don't want to tell people I'm an "aspiring" writer for the next six years. Of course, most of them I don't even tell I'm a writer at all. The fact that I don't feel like a real person most of the time could have something to do with this stress. And worrying so much. And missing Jonathan so God damn much. I'm obsessed. I really am. I won't stop thinking about him. I neglect to say "can't" since I don't think I've tried. Like the lady at the end of 'Requiem For A Dream' I go right back to fantasizing about the dream that's hurt me so. Sometimes I think being sick is the worst thing I've ever felt. I've always preferred being sad. And I was thinking about what Rob said that being sick can distract you from everything else that's wrong. I don't feel that way. I'd rather think about that other stuff if I had a choice. I just started thinking this morning about Jon and how I think he should be here for me, if I need him. He said he was selfish, yeah. I am too. But ... Maybe I should refrain from crying; it might dehydrate me further. I just wish I could answer the phone one of these days and it would be him. He doesn't even have my phone number. And I don't have his. Oh, I need to calm down. I just wish I could be better. I wish I haven't wasted the past year and a half of my life. I wish Jon would just be nice to me!! I think I'll write him a letter again. It's all I can do.

Comments: 2 owwwwwwww!s -break off a limb.

Subject:	Words, words, and...
Time:	9:46 pm.
Mood:	silent.
Music:	Can you believe it, I'm not listening to any ?!.

Chris (the good one) (I'm not talking to the bad one anymore) asked me what he should do yesterday when we were on the phone (when I interrupted his yoga) and I told him he should write a poem for me. He's partial to the haiku, so here's what I got:

limbs unfold slowly,
straightening to reach the phone:
a call from Colette.

concentration breaks
or flows through fiber optics?
Zen, heard in a laugh.

---

Aaaaaawww.

I'm finally starting to come out of my little world, as far as writing is concerned. Sort of. In a way. I've done (pratically) nothing today but sit in front of my machine (What's new?), looking up publishers and joining/posting on forums and checking out related literature. And I've been reading. I need to get some technologically inclined person over here to show me how my blasted printer works so I can send Chris my unfinished manuscript. I'd rather do it now, I've decided. It'd be easier to change things. It's a good thing when the person who writes you cute poetry in his spare time is also an editor. Haw! There are a lot of seemingly awesome small publishers out there that I would love to attempt to work with but many of them that I've seen are niche publishers whose niche I don't fit into right now. I've gotten to feeling a little less confident after hearing some of the things I've heard lately, but then I get to reading some of what these people think is good and I sort of change my mind.

I don't know anything.

Comments: 3 owwwwwwww!s -break off a limb.

Subject:	What I Do When I'm Not Awake
Time:	7:14 am.
Mood:	dreamy.
Music:	Tilzs-'Chaos Theory'.

I've been extra-obsessed with Jon lately. So I had this dream that I saw him again, finally. We met in a bar, and I think there were friend(s) of his there, some girl reminiscent of his Florida friend. Our encounter was brief and after he was gone I tried to remember if we'd even hugged each other, even touched at all. I was kind of surprised we only saw each other for as long as we did. But he seemed really kind and polite, but maybe too polite somehow, like distant and casual, but still very nice and genuine. I went through with other dreams or other things, I think I even woke up and went back to sleep at some point. But eventually I found myself watching mock poetry readings as if on a comedy television show. There was this one guy who started out saying he was going to be there that night, next week, and the week after, and would anyone else be there? At which point I notice there is no one there at all. He is in some house. I am merely a viewer. I am watching some movie then, and the music I am listening to in waking life seeps into my dream as I hear samples from the movie I think I am watching. I find myself in a house, and I realize Jonathan is in the next room. The door has been left open some. I think I hear him say something to me. It is one of those scenerios where we'd been sleeping over and I wasn't sure if he'd be awake yet, but I go into his room anyway now, where he is watching 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.' I sit down on the couch, to his left, next to him. He reaches out lovingly and touches me, asking, "Having fun yet?" I answer back genuinely, "Yeah," and then we both start watching the movie again. I wake up.

Comments: break off a limb.

Subject:	And it worked.
Time:	12:25 pm.
Mood:	guilty.
Music:	Depeche Mode-'World In My Eyes'.

You don't understand how much I hate propaganda designed to make me feel guilty. Like I just watched this silly commercial someone put up on the Buddhist community where they whine about how many people on earth aren't caucasian and how half the world or something doesn't know how to read. What am I going to do about that, besides help the caucasians send imperialistic Peace Corps members over to teach tribal Brazilians how to speak OUR language. And they put in this sappy, dramatic music that I know is just there to manipulate me emotionally like every other commercial. Thanks for the info AGAIN, but I already know that most people don't have a computer or any other possessions to worry about. No one takes into account that this 'other' lifestyle might just be the right one. That a lot of them WANT to live THEIR way. No one takes into account what technology is doing to our society? They have the tribes, the small communities, the nature, the places to fit in. I mean, just rob me. Just take 75% of the world's wealth that you seem to think I have from me and use it to develop all over that pesky rainforest so these barbaric people will have appropriate accomodations! Let's just create a world communist state. C'mon, I know you're dying to.

Comments: 1 owwwwwwww! -break off a limb.

LiveJournal for The Bringer of Pain to Your Face.

View:	User Info.
View:	Friends.
View:	Calendar.
View:	Memories.
You're looking at the latest 20 entries. Missed some entries? Then simply jump back 20 entries.