The cause of the pain
Stops the pain
The lack of the cause
Sharpens the pain
The cause itself
Loathes the pain
But the love of the cause
Is the pain
6/12/08

The world spins around me trying to collapse all at once
The weight of the chaos
The only support on itself
The voices of my life
Twisting and whirling
Inside my head
A scale with one pitch missing
I try to follow things
Keeping track of my life
But it’s too fast
Too much
I fall screaming
To the ground
To lie there in a shaking heap
Crying, trying to remember
Who I am
Why am I like this?
Where is this cloud from?
Why am I lost in the chaos?
4/28/08

I am just going to post most of my notebook now.

My light is returning
The darkness fading with my growing joy
The hollow spaces inside
Are starting to fill with light
Clean, Purifying the stains from the past
Not eliminating them entirely
The faint mark as a reminder
But the darkness that stays is coated in light
The past is slipping away
As the future unfolds before me
3/26/08 

Another Notebook find:

I am lost inside a secret place
Crying to get out
Forgotten by the ones who hear
Do they really even care?
They say they’re my friends
But when I become different
They quickly slide away
I lay helpless on the empty floor
Just dying to get out
I am found by the forgotten
I am fixed by the broken
I am me- Inside.

Another one from my notebook

Spinning, twirling, dancing, whirling
Life is fluttering by
A blur around my solid island
Isolated from time
The colors blend florescent hues
Blind my blackened eyes
My snow white skin and pitch dark clothes
A contrast
Sharp and vivid
The view of a girl
Lost inside of a life
Her dreams whirl by
Unnoticed
Life passes as she stands
Then black
All color fades and nothing is left
Just two footprints in the sand

The music flows through my angry veins carrying peace with its melody. The burn of anger cools as my mind opens to new possibilities. The pain of the past it’s forgotten, at least momentarily, in the wake of the hurt from the present. The sting of words bites and tears at all that I hold comfortable inside me. Nothing that I know is real. It is all changing as fast as I can become accustomed to it. Nothing stays the same. Routine becomes change. Mundane tasks become my lifeblood, all that keeps me going. The need to accomplish those few shallow deeds is the only reason for my life. I can trust no one, friend’s tire of constant troubles. Jealousy bites deep into my throat, cutting off the air I need to survive. How can I watch what I want be ripped from me by someone I know to be more deserving and better suited to it than I? I ask for things, thinking I know the consequences, but in the end they always surprise me. I never meant to become so involved. I thought I knew what I was doing. The strain is wearing me down. I need my strength, but my strengtheners become my enemies, attacking me and wearing me down instead of building like they should. I need strength. I am so weary…no sleep can give me back my strength. I need distance. No attachments, no desires. I need to spend time in a vacuum and heal. The commonplace needs to become my life. I cannot tolerate anything important. If I can get my energy into the few easy, necessary tasks, and do them well, maybe I can get enough energy to recover, stockpile the excess. I thought I was a person, not something that can be brought back when wanted and when more interesting things have been taken or are no longer appealing. But I am just a thing, tossed to the side when no longer wanted, then picked back up when I am. The doll is tiring of the abuse. She is wondering why her? Why must she deal with all this pain when all the other toys are loved and held? The pain of knowing what you could have had and having it denied is worse than never having known the possibilities at all. Ignorance is bliss. Those who never know what they could have had are much better off with the vague ideas than those like me who know fully what is possible but has been denied for no apparent reason.

ColdAn endless plain of purest white around me here is spread, My body aches with bone deep cold, I wonder, “Am I dead?” The panic builds inside this shell, made such by feelings, hidden well. A shadow falls, a footstep calls, reaching out to me with warmth. My heart beats quick, wanting relief from this deathly cold. I run, the ground moves quick, my flying feet are swift. Slow and sure the shadow draws near, arms open calling me. I slow, then fall into those arms. Alive! The Shadow fills my aching heart, brings courage to my soul, allowing me to carry on, In this wasteland in the snow.

Inside of me
I watch the rain pour down on the empty streets of my hometown. The rain makes everything clean again but can it rain inside of me? The rush of cool rain, streaming down inside of me. washing out the bad, taking some of me. I need the clean, brand-new feeling of a life that’s good now, but can I let it all out of me? I have no confidante who can ever understand me. I don’t know what’s going on inside my own head. If I don’t even know what I’m feeling, how can anyone understand me…