mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i am your everything When I was about seven, my Dad had a nervous breakdown. I remember that he got really skinny, pale, and he cried a lot. When I was sixteen, my Mother developed a gambling addiction. She went to the casinos every night after work and came home crying just before down. Sometimes, my step-dad would come home from a gig in a wonderful mood. He would pick me up and swing me through the air and tickle me and buy me ice cream. When I was about twelve I realized that all those good moods came after he shot up. Is anything worth anything? Does anything mean anything? Where is my eternal love? Where are my beautiful friendships? What ever happened to that part of me that made me want to stay alive? I cry during sad songs. I cry during happy songs. I cry during the spin cycle. My body is a fucking tomb. I'm nearly blind, nearly deaf. I smoke too much. I eat too much and I puke too much and my throat is caving under the strain. I keep waiting for the day my eyes fill with blood-- a side effect, a sure sign-- so that the sickness that eats my insides becomes evident to everybody who sees me. I open my mouth to blank stares. I speak to empty or angry faces. I kid myself into thinking that I'm "misunderstood," but I don't understand myself. I don't want to. The day I begin to understand why I think the way I do and why we all feel so isolated and lonely will be the day I shut down and sputter out. 3:30 p.m. - 2004-06-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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