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Below are the 4 most recent journal entries recorded in the "vegaofthelyra" journal:
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05:15 am
[Link] | Everything you loved in me, he taught me to hate. But if I'm hiding all the good in me, how will I ever prove it wrong? Prove that I am good? Show someone new and find it reflected back at me?
It's like my arms have been cut off, and I'm sitting on the ground, bleeding, instead of walking to the hospital just down the road.
I keep waiting for you to open this door and save me. [stop right now, because you selfishly think I'm talking about you.]
How long will I wait before I realize, really realize, no one's coming?
Call me optimistic, but I can't help but believe you'll come. Soon. Despite the fact I'm locked away.
Last night I dreamed all my teeth were loose and falling out, rotted by the stomach acid.
To dream of losing teeth (some of the most common dreams there are):
-anxiety about my physical appearance and how others perceive me
-fears and anxiety about embarrassing and making a fool of myself
-a sense of powerlessness
-great difficulty in expressing my feelings and opinions
-general insecurity about my own voice in the world; a lack of self-confidence
-feeling unattractive
Well. Check, check, check, etc.
Goodnight.
(It's getting to that point again, where I kind of want night terrors. Those terrifying hulks of shadows would be a kind of company.)
Current Location: Bedroom, Halifax.
Current Mood:  sick
Current Music: the good that won't come out of me... - Rilo Kiley
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08:46 pm
[Link] | If you don't work to give meaning to life, it's amazing how quickly it can run away with you...
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09:50 pm
[Link] | here's the day you hoped would never come
don't feed me violins just run with me through rows of speeding cars
the paper cuts the cheating lovers the coffee's never strong enough
I know you think it's more than just bad luck
there there baby, it's just textbook stuff, it's in the ABCs of growing up
now my darling, oh don't lose your head, cause none of us were angels and you know I love you yeah
Imogen Heap - Speeding Cars.
Hey journal.
Today was... pretty awful, I guess.
I woke up heavy with depression and lack of energy, from dreams of preventable family plane crashes, hunting through hundreds of roses for the one that I had already picked, only to find out it was planted at the back, behind the willow tree, by Cleo's grave... a rabid little dog with pure black eyes, but I kept saying, "What happened to it? It didn't just grow up like this. It was abused, it was mistreated, it had to have been to be this hostile and afraid. Look, you just have to be gentle..." and I let it off its painful leash, and it turned into a scruffy-looking young cat, so pitiful and terrified. I pet it, and with each stroke it turned into a lovely cat. But it kept threatening to run across the street, and I didn't want to lose it. :(
I've watched you winding down for years, you can't keep going like this
now's as bad a time as any
I've explained my visible sadness with tales of physical illness and stress for tomorrow's psych exam, and lack of sleep... Maybe all three are true to a certain extent. But they really do feel like convenient masks.
And then I cried all the way home.
I miss friends who call because there's no one else they'd rather talk to.
I miss friends who tell you you look great as usual, despite the fact you feel like shit.
I miss hugs?
It feels like it's been forever since I've touched anyone. And felt any warmth.
it's all in your head. you want friends, call them, make them. stop hypocritically calling people on being selfish, uninterested in you as they are; they could be in bad places too and be waiting for you to call them. we work to make ourselves happy, and we can work to make ourselves miserable. it's the same amount of work, either way.
Here's my dilemna though. I can't feel close to anyone until they can see my scars, or as they are right now, gruesome wounds. But I think it's only natural that no one wants to be close to someone with such hardcore emotional baggage. heh, hi, my name's Rachel, let's be friends, oh ps I'm a fucking emotional wreck with little to no self-esteem who just wants to be liked, loved, appreciated, in some way, but I'm terrified of opening up again because my last best friend ditched me to be friends with my hardcore abusive ex-boyfriend.
*cue to run*
Okay, so that's fair, and a social kind of rule. If you're badly in need of friends, you're not attractive as a potential friend.
But where does that leave me?
To deal with these things on my own, prior to making new friends again.
But I've never dealt with something like this on my own. I've always had Ribay and Lee and even parents there, through hard times.
Alone, the pain just won't seem to lessen, no matter how many times I relive the past, in hopes of catharsis...
Hence my starting this journal again, I guess.
So.
I'm not going to talk about the memories in chronological order... it turns into a historical list of events I've vaguely skimmed over with too many people too many meaningless times now. The idea here is to get out a particular image, or conversation, or fight, or word, or act, and to express with it all the feelings I have yet to share.
...
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Okay.
That's enough catharsis/recall for one night. I have a headache from crying. I have to study and sleep.
I'm going to find some way over this mountain. I only know that because I can't keep living with it all inside me. It's not optimism, just acceptance.
I still wish there was someone to listen. God, all this writing must be tedious and confusing and meaningless to you. But it's all I have.
speak no feeling no i don't believe you, you don't care a bit you don't care a bit.
hide and seek...you don't care a bit....
Current Location: Bedroom, Halifax.
Current Mood:  drained
Current Music: hide and seek, imogen heap.
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02:32 am
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/61646115/12886692) [Link] |
the first (in a while)
you are the smell before rain
you are the blood in my veins
glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes,
you can forget
Oh, how those lyrics have chased me through these months.
I feel lost.
There is no meaning in any of this *gestures around room*
I attach meaning to... to being meaningful to someone else.
My definition of value in life is intrinsically hinged on other people's realities;
I am fundamentally a dependent person.
Why keep fighting this?
Is it worth changing?
I miss that person who won't let you fall, who'll frown and say, "Smarten up! I'm not going to let you do this, so pick yourself up and go! You can do it."
find that voice inside yourself...
well it's not there.
I need help.
I'm falling so far away from everyone, and I don't remember how to make it stop.
*sighs and wipes tears*
One thing at a time. Get your studying done, do fucking well on this psych exam. Then we can figure out what to do about our psychological state. (hah.)
what things are circulating in this brain tonight?
I'm not a good person x 20
I gave all my good to you and you smashed it. you threw it at me. x 5
why do I keep falling for people I can't have? maybe it's subconsciously strategic? x6
I'm so afraid.
I'm so tired of pretending to be strong, when I'm not. I'm still so broken inside, and I don't know how to fix it.
I need someone to take my hand and make me talk, because I've forgotten how to find myself in those situations...
I can't believe it's been this long... this long of a long haul across the summer, and still, I have yet to really let it all out. To anyone. (My pillows get it. The workout machines kind of get it.)
So I guess that's why I'm starting this again, journal.
I need some way to get it out, out of these heavy packages of emotional baggage, so I can walk and love free again.
And what, precisely, is it?
No more senseless emotions without their roots exposed;
I'm setting out to record the events of last year, as confused as they may have become. They've had many wet nights to fester.
I stopped writing last year. I stopped believing reality; I was convinced that my perceptions of reality were so terribly subjective and skewed that there was no point in recording my experiences... what a foolish, foolish thing to do.
Since April I have but occasionally lived in the present. My consciousness has been alternately fixed on the past or living in plans and numbers-- the future.
*resigned sigh*
Where to start...
We'll start with sleep. It's 2:50am, and I have a lot of psychology to learn tomorrow.
I'll get up at 10am and write here until I'm hungry. Then to the library for studying. No distractions.
Goodnight.
~Rachel
Current Location: Bedroom, Halifax.
Current Mood: exhausted
Current Music: cannonball - damien rice
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vegaofthelyra's journal