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[26 Apr 2008|10:07pm] |
And my grandma just died.
This week could seriously get no worse.
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[24 Apr 2008|12:38am] |
I just found out that acid_ana_angel killed herself.
And I can't stop crying.
It just really, REALLY hit me. I remember reading and commenting on so many of her posts.
And. it's just... it's so hard.
life.
i can't stop crying. I feel SO alone.
i feel selfish to cry to. it's what she wanted.
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[26 Mar 2008|05:33pm] |
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i have no friends.
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[19 Feb 2008|11:51am] |
An update I got last night around midnight:
The police report found that he was checked into Kaiser in SOUTH San Francisco. 15 miles from the club he disappeared from. The hospital records will only state he was "released 4pm, Monday."
He still hasn't contacted anyone. He was well enough to leave the hospital after a probable 36-hour mandatory stay.... And we were under the presumption that he was going to get a ride home from a former co-worker (he used to work around there) after they got off shift. But Red Robin doesn't keep its workers overnight.
And I'm pretty sure anyone would have called his sister by now.
To get Ryan into a hospital, it had to have been a very big deal. He's very much broke, and has been known to refuse treatment for alcohol poisoning and gashes in his arm....
How could he have GOTTEN 15 miles from the club? The BART doesn't have all of its lines open that late at night, so it couldn't have been mere accident... unless he ran into an old friend and just disappeared.
It's just all SO unlikely. He still has made no contact. Where IS he?
I'm pondering on a few things:
1) How he got to a Kaiser 15 miles away, when there was one down the street from the club.
2) What requires a 36-hour mandatory stay
3) He was well enough to be released. Where the fuck is he now?
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[18 Feb 2008|10:29pm] |
I don't know what to do.
My friend Ryan has gone missing. Like completely gone.
Disappeared.
And it's not one of those "He just miscommunicated where he's staying." type of things...
He's gone. I don't know. I'm really worried... he hasn't contacted anyone, he isn't picking up his phone obviously, and he hasn't gone onto a computer since Saturday. It's Monday night.
They've filed a police report (his sister), and they've checked all the hospitals in the San Francisco area. He was last seen with his friends at the 540 Club Downtown... He didn't like get lost on the way home. He just disappeared from the club. I'm worried he got into a fight (he's non-confrontational though), or drunkenly fell and hit his head, or... It worries me so much to say this, but I'm very afraid he got depressed and ... killed himself.....
He's been depressed lately, I guess. He lost his job, his girlfriend, his apartment... very recently.
I'm hoping to God he's just cooling off for the moment. It's just SO unlike him. He seemed very upbeat last time I saw him, sang to us... Like, he stopped by the dorms last Sunday and sang us songs.
I don't know what I'll do if something terrible happened to him. We were friends, but not terribly close like Kirstyn was with him. I wouldn't forgive myself for not doing more, getting to be closer with him. I feel like we were taking each other for granted.
I can't stop worrying. I'd like to just crawl into bed, and cry and sleep but I can't. I need to work out in the room a bit with leg lifts, attempt pushups, maybe some situps, etc... and besides, I wouldn't be able to cry anyway. I can't cry successfully anymore.
My ethics teacher said this last week, and it rings in my head now- with every interaction I have:
"Walk gently through the world. We are all vulnerable."
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[17 Sep 2005|10:37pm] |
isnt it cute?
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[17 Sep 2005|02:36pm] |
I don't know how many levels of hurt this covers. It's beyond my very comprehension. I have too many problems with you, with school, with this week.
Every time I walk past the 200 wing and the construction zone, my breath hitches in my chest just a little bit. Every time I die a little more.
It's so many levels of complex, human hurt. The disappointment, the disrespect, the blunt attack on my sexuality as a woman... all of it is so hard to pinpoint. I can't just say "Here's the problem. Here are the thoughts. And here is the solved problem. Now go on with life." It's a vague messy pool of blood leaking from my heart. It seeps through my lungs, my brain, and chills me to the bone. It catches me at my most unguarded; it leaps up and completely catches me by surprise. The mess seeps and sticks and slowly begins to drown me until I am no longer aware of who I am or what I am living for.
And you just pick up with your life, keep going, barely disturbed. You have still brushed it off. And there is the second disappointment.
You heard what I said, and you barely know what to do with it but lie to me, and evade my understanding. We aren't Adam and Eve. So why am I standing here naked in shame, out in the open? And why do I feel like you're hiding under trees and sewing yourself makeshift clothes?
You are supposed to take my hand, guide me back to normalcy softly and gently. No. You just pick up the dust while you run away. And you don't even realize. If you do, I don't think you comprehend what it does to me fully.
It makes me phsyically ill. A blinding shade of white palor takes hold of my skin, making me ghostlike and sickly. The monster erupts in my stomach, growling and begging me to scream. But I won't scream. I won't speak. And that's the demise, the great and terrifying beauty of it all. I'd rather wallow in the darkness than speak up again. I've explained once, and that was too hard, too mortifying. I actually aired it to you; that's the clue for you that "Hey, this must be huge if she actually said something."
And eventually the monster will swallow me whole. It's only a matter of time.
In the mean time, I will battle with perfection. The scratches on my skin start to appear again. They may be hard to see, or easily explained as vicious fights with one of my cats.. But the pain is real, the punishment is vidicating.
"Don't let today's weakness ruin tomorrow's dream." Too true. Don't let today's dinner ruin tomorrow's one-pound-less. Don't let today's listlessness lead to food. Don't do it. You need perfection. You need bones. You need to waste away. You need to be perfect.
And I can do it. I can; I have control. I have complete control in my life. I can fill my hours with busyness. I can build excuses. I can show you my inspiration. It doesn't matter, it's in my brain and I'm not going to overcome it. When I feel "back to normal," the beaten up child of my mind sits in the shadows. She lurks, and she murmurs, slowly building up the strength to say.. "Wouldn't you rather be that much more perfect? Wouldn't you like those jeans? Wouldn't you like those bones? Don't you miss the bones? Don't you? Your sister always looks better. She's the pretty one. Because you aren't. You're just growing fatter. The food in your body is rotting away. You are rotting away."
I need to be perfect. I need to be perfect.
I need you to know. I need someone to know how I feel. I need someone to just listen and not judge and not try to change me. I don't need anyone telling me what to do. I am in control and I can make things happen.
...under God of course.
~~
No, this isn't done yet apparently.
"I may also just be more in touch with Eldredge’s three desires of a man. I have an adventure to live, a battle to fight, and a beauty to rescue. "
No, you aren't. Why? Because you can't even begin to realize that maybe a beauty to rescue isn't beautiful at all. You can't come to realize that this might mean the smallest of ladies in your life; that you are called to rescue every single woman you come in contact with. That it's not the ultimate "One Love" for the rest of your life, but for the "one mess-up" or the "one friend"... the "one" or "many" that needs you the most. You can't just wait to rescue a beauty. You have to rescue every beauty along the way. Because right now, you are playing a sad role in which you refuse to acknowledge beauties that may seem less than ordinary to you.
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[17 Aug 2005|12:32am] |
This schoolyear I swear I'm going to do things right.
Part of my character is stubbornness. That transforms into determination. I WILL fight this. Even if it kills me, which it probably will. I'll only stop at 115. Everything above that is shit.
And I will fucking beat the system. I will adorn myself with theater. I will submerge. I will drown in the familiar essence that is a busy show. I will join as many crews as I can safely permit myself to. Wardrobe, publicity, stage. This is all for the musical, where I see (and know) I have no chance at getting casted.
And in the spring I will devote myself to getting in as cast. It comes so naturally. It gives me breath. Theater gives me breath. I will burn for passion, I will burn for all that is true within my very soul.
Talent is a gift given as a seed. You can't walk around showing off a seed. You have to harvest it. I will take every ounce within me to harvest my talent, to outshine every star in there. I don't care what I have to do to achieve it. I'll take lessons, I'll give up my nights and weekends. I'd give up Sunday Life nIghts.
This is how I breathe. I inhale words that slip slowly off the pages towards my mouth, I breathe in elicit and sensual phrases, I drink in the very words that transform me.
This is the only way I can reach fulfillment. This is the only way to complete me. I will somehow get to write again- I will somehow sprout a good idea with plot and everything. I will somehow burn enough within my soul to put forth everything I can for theater.
And it's not as if ANY of this is new. Freshman year I devoted my entire fall towards The Crucible. But I was sheltered, a one-of-a-kind Freshman who got lucky. No one told me about cast party, no one told me about staying for strike! Sophomore year I had to sit at the side-lines because Seeley decided to be BIASED in the fall and only cast her favorites. The only new one being Paul. She had a closed cast. I was kicked out. Spring play I got beat out by the wild turn Seeley took by ONLY casting the 2 best females and the rest new girls.
I am tired of the hypocrisy of the bitches at my school. They've raised themselves above me. What makes them so good? What makes them SO good as to ignore me? What makes them so good as to take my name off an invitation list to a SURPRISE party?! What makes them SO damn good as to act as if *I* am an outsider?
I will not let this passion dwindle. I will not let my soul wither away and die.
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[12 Aug 2005|12:21pm] |
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My public posts are there for fake-emo communities, to see if I could get in by my looks and not my personality. (Yes.)
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[02 Apr 2005|09:23pm] |
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You know the deal. Go. Join. Make me a little happier, or a bit sadder that we're doomed to live a live such as this.
xKx
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[02 Apr 2005|01:23pm] |
join us... be with us...
xXemoXx
Almost Love,
Kate
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[02 Apr 2005|01:07pm] |
xXx
don't you play with my heart
xXx
i break easily
xXx
i bleed from within rivers of red and black
xXx
don't you play with my heart
xXx
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| i wanna be, i wanna be, i wanna be a supermodel |
[04 Mar 2005|02:02pm] |
if i had taken a different path.. i'd probably be really slutty... now that i think about it.
for me, the 'm' word is bad.
funny, ain't it? i sometimes wonder if i'll go to college far-off and loose all my morals and everything i thought i'd believe in.
hm. wonderous. yes, the world is. and yes, life is as well.
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[14 Feb 2005|12:00am] |
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Three cheers for synthesized-love day.
Fuck the system.
I want out of this.
♥
♥
♥
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[02 Dec 2004|01:14pm] |
I got new glasses today. They remind me of Nick's. Hott with a double tee, either way.
Nothing new. Life is nothing new.
-let me cry my emo tears in peace.-
Nick Brandet
1986-2004
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[19 Apr 2004|05:19pm] |
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mood |
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music |
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"Come On" Ben Jelen |
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♥
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