msjessica's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- all the trees of the field will clap their hands hmmmmm time, time, time - you mother fucker. thinking about end of years, thinking about wasted days, how they are defined or measured, what is worthwhile, what matters. i smoke more this last two weeks or so than i think i have ever. the two people i've told this to both had almost identical reactions. "how could you possibly smoke more than you did before?" it's certainly possible. my fingers tell the story, as does my heavy chest, my raspy voice (that's a side effect i don't mind so much). i do worry about my health. that if i eventually figure all these variations of self harm out, get them finished and start living a "better" life, at least in terms of health, that there will be the punchline - there is where i'll find out about cancer, or something else to cut me down, cut my story off, maybe i'll get hit by a bus, maybe a car accident, maybe a plane i'm on will fall from the sky, life delivering what i've on so many dark nights sat and prayed for, an early death. early. that's silly. it will be perfectly timed, whenever it comes. i guess the bottom of this is that however it comes, in some way, it will probably be by my own hand. - not just the smoking but lots of things are getting worse, in a way. i've already spoken about them. not much more to say really. - it needs to end soon. as in, the habits, my addiction to self destruction. i think coming in to this year, and possibly the last, i had no clear visions of what i wanted to head towards. i still don't really have CLEAR vision as such, but i think i have some idea's. i want 2015 to be the year things change. i change. i freeze up, unwilling tears almost start to well up at that sentence. (change what? and what FOR? WHY??? CHANGE FOR WHAT????? my demons scream, it's only when i sit to write like this that i'm aware of them, i am so used to the noise) i certainly don't want to be living like this in 12 months time - putting needles anywhere they might go, drawing bruises out of myself on arms and breasts, risking, literally, life and limb so consistently. i don't want to be scrubbing nicotine stains off my fingers everyday, nicotine stains that now between the scrubbing and the smoking are so far ingrained that i wonder if i'll ever be rid of them, if now my skin is just permanently brown, if it will spread all over me like a reverse, self inflicted vitiligo. all these marks i leave on myself, you don't need a razor blade and bags full of blood stained tissue paper to be self harming. i guess just like i don't need a trip to hospital and little blue stitches to put things back together again, and make sure the scarring is minimal. this time next year, i don't want to be so silent, so only living in fantasy worlds. not that i think it's wrong, or bad in any way, or even sad, the way i am now. but i just hope that in the next 12 months, i become more used to hearing my own voice out loud, that my intimate and heartfelt connections breathe real air and come off of a screen, that the hands that want me touch me more often than not, that i feel, PHYSICALLY feel the touch of love, desire, honesty, inspiration and curiousity. i hope i have healed enough to let those things back into my heart and my life, i think i will have. i think i almost there already. kind of. i hope i am not feeling stifled by the things that make me money. i want to, i will be, in 12 months time, feeling valued, inspired, creative, perpetually blossoming, nurtured. again, similar to now, just a little bit more. i feel like i won't be living in the same house. so i hope my new house also has a balcony where i can sit on sunny afternoons and feel the breeze, look at leafy tree's and pretty flowers, feeling like i have a little sanctuary from the city. i hope i feel comfortable, clean, excited, loved. - the word i always come back to is valued. i don't know why i have such a thing with this, as i'm sure i AM valued, already, in many different spaces of my life. but i guess i just don't feel it. or i don't value myself. i guess thats what most of this is about, for me and lots of other people with similar afflictions. it's hard, and sad. no news there. - on another note, to spin this around completely..... friday night, machine gun kisser. it is nice to have someone to share body time with who is not brand new. some level of familiarity, and short shocks of intimacy that aren't that deep but they're deeper than my every day so it's better than nothing. i am used to him not asking questions so i just natter away, i ask lots of things about him, because i'm interested (in people, not just him) and i listen but often i don't remember what he's said. i always wind up just a little too high, and a little too drunk, and talk in ways that maybe make him uncomfortable - i am a little too honest, a little too raw, my loneliness is showing, but also my heart and my mind, i am so on the surface and maybe that's part of why he keeps coming back, not just the sex which he can (and does) get elsewhere. i can see when my honesty disarms him, and i think this time i spoke too much about what i see in him ad it made him a little uncomfortable. "you are stereotypically handsome but you are an absolute freak". i am cruel, and harsh, when i don't mean to be. an old problem of mine, one that never seems to go away. i don't think enough before i speak. why it is better that my company is kept behind screens, as it takes more time to type and hit send than to just speak, and i have more chance to check myself before isolating those i am connected with. maybe i just need to find someone better able to understand my subtext, what i really mean when i say things, to really know my heart and that it is almost always full of good intentions, praise and adoration, unless given a reason to be full of other things. on and on and on, i'm just typing lots because i'm lonely. 5:55 p.m. - 2014-12-14 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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