All Monsters Are Human

So fucking empty and filled at the same time. It's almost unbearable. The human body is a forceful thing.

Compilations

I should've died so many times ago, beginning from birth, to childhood and up to now. So many instances and occasions; yet, I'm still here. I've always had the worst luck, but when it comes to mortality, I have the best, I suppose

Djdkskdjddbd

Fucking highs and lows. All bad, they're all bad. I spend my life waiting for the pain to pass.
I really want to cut right now. It's been so long since. It's hard to fight the urge when you need something to counter all the painful weight you're internally carrying. Just all these painful memories I wish I didn't remember. It all hits so hard. My body is already ridden with permanent and severe scars, but I can't stop. It's a bad addiction and the monster only wants more. I've cut, sutured myself for fun, and have resorted to burning myself. Nothing is ever good enough. Hopefully the rising waves in my chest will pass so that I won't have to physically act to get by. It's as if I need some of my blood to flow to counter my inability to cry on my own. Blood is so fucking  cathartic. Especially when it's your own. And I love waking up to stinging open wounds. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live either. I don't want to live inside my own body anymore and live these damn irrational emotions. Fuck, I really need to get some help.
Call me fucking sick, but aren't we all? Sorry mother and father, I'm such a failure at 24.

Mental Note

Yesterday, I dreamt about water again. Like I seem to so often do since childhood. I dreamt I was on a small small walkway in the ocean. The tide was strong and the current pulled me into it. It wasn't chaotic, but a slow motioned current. Then an orca whale caught me by the arm in his teeth and pushed me back on to the aisle. I woke up still feeling its light teeth bite on my outer forearm.

Side note*
Will elaborate more in the day time. I just wanted to have it down somewhere so I wouldn't forget.

Valentine

You didn't see my valentine
I sent it via pantomime
While you were watchin' someone else
I stared at you and cut myself

It's all I'll do 'cause I'm not free
A fugitive too dull to flee
I'm amorous but out of reach
A still life drawing of a peach

I'm a tulip in a cup
I stand no chance of growing up
I've made my peace I'm dead I'm done
I watched you live to have my fun

I root for you, I love you. You, you, you, you.

I made it to a dinner date
My tear drops seasoned every plate
I tried to dance but lost my nerve
I cramped up in the learning curve

I'm a tulip in a cup
I stand no chance of growing up
I'm resigned to sail on through
In the wake of tales of you

I root for you, I love you. You, you, you, you.
I root for you, I love you. You, you, you.
I root for you, I love you. You, you, you, you, you, you, you.
I root for you, I love you. You, you, you. 

Physiology- Sore

I'm sore, but the good kind of sore. I love this. Just enough that I can go again today and push myself even harder. But boy am I going to be utterly spent on Sunday. Good thing I stretched hardcore last night. I love stretching. I hate that the gym closes so early on weekends though, makes it hard to keep it up because weekends give you passes to be super extra sloth-like.

Self Made Highs, Here Am I

Finally went to the gym for the first time in almost a year.

I forgot how much I loved it.
Forgot how much I loved moving. Period.
Physical and not, obviously. (But that isn't at all surprising since I love change and become fitful when things become too routine- the metaphor of my life has all become just a little too literal for my tastes, lol but at least it's amusing.)

Back to the objective at hand.
I Forgot how it transformed every single cell and molecule in my body.
Forgot the lasting effects that stay long after.
I've been stationary, stunted for so long. Mind. Body. Soul. Stopped. Stuck.
A body in motion tends to stay in motion.

(My brain even feels stupid, like I've devolved. I hate it. My thinking feels like it's slowed down immensely. I need to do something about that.)

Strange how you forget the things you wish to remember; yet, you can never forget the things you wish to forget.

Also strange that I love pushing myself and setting my own limits, but when anyone else does it, I shut down, completely and irrationally. It's like a reset button gets hit and I retreat back into the dark place and thus have to repeat the process, my "process" all over again. Whatever that is. We can't ever describe it. The problem is that it's a vicious and self-destructing, self-consuming cycle that is doomed to nothing but failure.

But the gym was good.
It was so good, I didn't want to leave.
I think the feeling of being in control of some aspect of my life subconsciously plays a big factor in all of this.
I didn't want to stop physically moving.
Today's the first time I've felt naturally better in a long time.
I don't know if it was the pouring rain I love so much, or that my body was finally giving me a sense of temporary relief.
It literally felt like the weight was being lifted, ever so slightly.

That's the bad thing about being one of us.
We live in fragments that can be taken away in seconds. Taken away to either the dark place or the opened place. I'm usually in the former. But today it felt like I could breathe.

The difference is astronomical. It never ceases to astonish and render me dumbfounded by the juxtaposition.

I used to say we live in moments, two kinds, the bad and the not so bad.
I don't even think I live in moments anymore.
I exist in a state of heaviness. But simultaneously in perpetual limbo. Waiting, always, for the heft to be lightened. And whenever it is lightened, I fear the moment it becomes swayed and blown to the other place I have come to call my internal home.

My mind wanders, every thought is connected like branches on a tree or veins and nerves in the bloodstream. So how can you expect my thoughts not to digress. Thinking spurns creativity. People have stopped thinking for themselves so us kindred folk have been pushed into the group of odd outcasts, but I rather prefer it that way.

I know the high has now faded. I can always gauge my feelings through what I type down.
But point is, I plan on working out every day like before I stopped.

Forgive whatever I type, I doubt any if this can be called/considered 'writing', hence why I haven't called it such in this entry. The more I type the more my words make no sense. So alas, I cease.

But huzzah for today's small triumphs. We'll all do better and try again tomorrow.

I guess we're all just trying to chase that high and ride as long as we can until we can trigger/trick it to come back again.

Boy am I going to be a bit sore when I wake up.