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lykomancer[WARNING: Entering Jess's unmedicated psyche. Probably TMI and disturbing for most people. Proceed at your own risk. You've been warned.]
There is nothing.
Nothing here but a screen, nothing but a fruitless interface through which I fail to communicate anything to anyone except-- at least once daily-- almost palpable shame and idiocy when I say something profoundly stupid or over-step my bounds or lose my temper over one more pointless thing. Nothing real gets through... or rather, it does, but only when I force it to, when I push until I sweat blood to get a valid and important point past the borderland of my fumbling tongue, the vapid wasteland of the English language, through the arrogant, silly, cockiness of my vain personality.
Word fall from my mouth in an uncontrollable stream of drivel, wasting air and assaulting people's ears and saying nothing, until it comes to the point that when I try to speak and mean it, it seems that no one listens at first... not really blowing me off, but simply saying, "Ah, that's Jess, and that is her way."
("Ah," the villagers say, "that shepherd boy is yelling about a wolf again, but we will not be fooled and go running up to the hills again just because he is bored and jesting.")
I am frantic, absolutely frantic, for some kind of affection, some touch, and so I am burying myself in porn and cybersex; it's about the only thing I seem to be able to find any amount of real interest in right now, and I am simultaneously hungry for more and repulsed by my own...sluttishness? boredom? debasement? I don't understand why I keep searching for more and logging onto the MUCK and so forth-- really, I'm covering the same territory over and over and over and...--but I can't seem to stop, either. Nothing else catches any spark of my interest. I am not studying any of my languages; I'm barely reading (usually when the 'net's down or when someone else is on my computer); I'm currently not working nor do I have classes this week.
And I feel vaguely self-mutilating.
Not that I would act on it-- Ok, I would if someone made one more comment about my hair and Valentine's Day, but that's to prove a point-- but I feel it just the same.
I wanna shave off my hair, or shave off patches of it. Nair it. Dye chunks of it other unnatural, contrasting colors. Take a pair of scissors to it.
Sit in a corner and do nothing. Glare at people who try to get me to move. Maybe bite them. Maybe bite myself. Smash my head into the wall a few times.
You know, the usual.
It's ok, by the way, you brave souls still reading. Perfectly ok. I just need to vent, even though I know damned well that this is all because I haven't popped my little blue pill in like, over a week. I really need to take them daily, or at least every other day.
I'll be alright, maybe by tomorrow night...
"Mata haru ni aimashou
Haru ni aimashou
Haru ni aimashou"
There is nothing.
Nothing here but a screen, nothing but a fruitless interface through which I fail to communicate anything to anyone except-- at least once daily-- almost palpable shame and idiocy when I say something profoundly stupid or over-step my bounds or lose my temper over one more pointless thing. Nothing real gets through... or rather, it does, but only when I force it to, when I push until I sweat blood to get a valid and important point past the borderland of my fumbling tongue, the vapid wasteland of the English language, through the arrogant, silly, cockiness of my vain personality.
Word fall from my mouth in an uncontrollable stream of drivel, wasting air and assaulting people's ears and saying nothing, until it comes to the point that when I try to speak and mean it, it seems that no one listens at first... not really blowing me off, but simply saying, "Ah, that's Jess, and that is her way."
("Ah," the villagers say, "that shepherd boy is yelling about a wolf again, but we will not be fooled and go running up to the hills again just because he is bored and jesting.")
I am frantic, absolutely frantic, for some kind of affection, some touch, and so I am burying myself in porn and cybersex; it's about the only thing I seem to be able to find any amount of real interest in right now, and I am simultaneously hungry for more and repulsed by my own...sluttishness? boredom? debasement? I don't understand why I keep searching for more and logging onto the MUCK and so forth-- really, I'm covering the same territory over and over and over and...--but I can't seem to stop, either. Nothing else catches any spark of my interest. I am not studying any of my languages; I'm barely reading (usually when the 'net's down or when someone else is on my computer); I'm currently not working nor do I have classes this week.
And I feel vaguely self-mutilating.
Not that I would act on it-- Ok, I would if someone made one more comment about my hair and Valentine's Day, but that's to prove a point-- but I feel it just the same.
I wanna shave off my hair, or shave off patches of it. Nair it. Dye chunks of it other unnatural, contrasting colors. Take a pair of scissors to it.
Sit in a corner and do nothing. Glare at people who try to get me to move. Maybe bite them. Maybe bite myself. Smash my head into the wall a few times.
You know, the usual.
It's ok, by the way, you brave souls still reading. Perfectly ok. I just need to vent, even though I know damned well that this is all because I haven't popped my little blue pill in like, over a week. I really need to take them daily, or at least every other day.
I'll be alright, maybe by tomorrow night...
"Mata haru ni aimashou
Haru ni aimashou
Haru ni aimashou"
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no subject
Date: 2005-02-02 01:51 am (UTC)I think you just need to find someone who can understand you, and appreciate you. That's all.