Limited Life Warranty (4)

I was 15.
The first attempt of a story I wrote was about a beautiful suicide.


and now I just want to be left alone.







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Limited Life Warranty (3)

Edit: The following is not a fishing for compliments post - just fyi
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It's been a while since I've been able to put words together.


I say that, with a knot in my throat because I have always - internally - looked down on people who claimed to have what is known as "a writers' block". I never believed in it, let alone claim to have one myself. I mean, come on, I'm nothing but an amateur who likes to think that I can actually put something together that makes sense, entertains, disgusts, or evokes any kind of whatever in whoever. What ability do I possess, or what talent for that matter do I have, and what kind of privilege do I give myself to call myself a writer? And what am I to, not only give myself a title I'm not worthy of, but furthermore bum around announcing to the world that look at me, I can't write anymore after I have oh so generously bedazzled you all with my magical words like I used to.
bunch of crap.

And then for some time, I can't do it anymore.
and it used to come so easily. like you open a faucet and it just flows, so clear, and smooth, and just .. perfect.
relatively speaking.

But I always thought that, you know, it'll come back at some point.
That all of it, will come out at once, and be so perfect again.

and so, I choked on words.
I fought them out of my throat.
I beat them out of my body.
I squeezed out my lungs for them.
all I needed were the right ones...
where did they all go?
the right words next to each other.
to make that perfect sense in my head and let me breath out again.
and I searched
I searched in your eyes
in my soul
in their bodies
between the trees.
among clouds and ants.
on the palm of her wrinkled hands.
I thought I'll find it ...
or them.
and come back with a kick ass story on how mighty I have conquered my lack of expression.

but now I come back empty handed.
I think I've lost it somewhere
along the way.
and the dance is over now.






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Limited Life Warranty (2)

I think I may have an eating disorder.
The first time it happened was right after I graduated from high school.
I forget how it feels to be hungry. I stop eating and it can go on for days, without me even feeling the need to eat. It sometimes crosses my mind, the idea of food, but I just can't bother.
People said I was stressed. That is was psychological, since it was a transitional phase in my life. I have just applied to a university out of the country. I was anxiously waiting for an answer. I was getting ready to leave everything I have ever known behind and go to a place where I don't know a soul. I was about to take a huge risk that almost everyone just dreaded at that point.
They said I was stressed but I didn't feel like I was. I wasn't nervous or anxiously checking my email day and night. I wasn't even bothered with the whole "I'm may be moving to another country" idea yet. I didn't feel like I was under pressure, or going through a "transitional phase" or whatever the terms everyone used when they saw how zombified I became.

I guess there are two levels of "state of mood".
A superficial one, which is whatever that you feel on a daily basis. Anger, if someone bothered you. Happiness, if everything's going well. Shitty, cranky, funny, glossy, or whatever.
And another more profound one. One that encompasses that specific phase of one's life.
A lot may be going on in one's life, a lot of shit...on level one, you can still be happy, but on level two...the crap just lingers.
I don't even know if that makes any sense.

I obviously have an eating disorder when I'm in distress. Distress that I don't even feel. Or refuse to acknowledge. Or that I'm not even aware of. Or that I choose to ignore.
I don't even know what I do.
And it's happening again. Now that I'm done with school.
and everything else seems to be falling apart.
I don't remember the last time I had a proper meal.
and I think it's because I am in distress.
and mostly because I can't talk about it.
and mostly because I pretend the whole time.
and mostly because I feel like shit since way back in time.
and mostly because no one knows about it.
and no wonder I stopped talking as well.




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Limited Lifetime Warranty (1)

I'm freaking out.
I don't freak out.
But I am.


I need to go on a diet - not because I need to lose weight but because of health issues - and I'm just too lazy to bother.


I drive like a maniac. And all I can think about when I'm on the road is car accidents. And I drive like a maniac. And all i can think of are accidents.


I need to find a place to bury my diaries.


I have a book-buying addiction. People go on shopping therapy, I go on book therapy. I buy mountains of books, that I know I'm too busy to read at the moment. But I buy them anyway. I have over 50 books I haven't touched yet. I almost bought a book twice, just because I forgot that I got it in the first place. I treat myself to books when I'm down,bored, or ugly. I have a book-buying addiction. And it's not going away.

>>>>
I'm not a social person. I find it extremely hard and emotionally exhausting to meet new people and make friends with them. People think I'm a snob because I don't talk. I usually can't find words when I'm face to face with a complete stranger.My tongue twists. So I usually resort to smiling. I hate "friendly-talks" and the fact that smoking is one thing that brings people together.


I talk. a lot.
Like I do here. I have things to say about almost everything.
I rant aimlessly in awkward situations or when I want to cover up for what I'm feeling at a given time. I make fun of others or resort to sarcasm to divert attention.


I cherish silence the most. I have silent conversations. And I believe that the more comfortable a person and I live in the silence between us, the more we understand each other.


>>>>>>>>> I don't find any of that contradicting.


I hate being the center of attention. That's why I love directing. It's like you're the master of the puppets, but behind the scenes. I'd rather deserve honor and not get it, than get credit and not deserve it. (rephrased after a saying by Mark Twain that I read once and it stuck with me).


My friends think that if Prom was a costume party, I should be a cutter.


I shower people with gifts. Nothing fancy. Notes, a bar of chocolate, an sms, a wink. Not because I have loads of money or nothing better to do. You just never know when it's gonna be over. So I wanna make sure to make the best memories at this very moment. It may be the last birthday I spend with you. It may be the last time we talk. It may be the last time we see eachother. It may be the last time before things change. Out of experience, it happens. It may always be the last time. So pardon me.


Everything is hanging by a thread.
Everything is on the verge of falling apart.
Everything is hanging by a thread.
I discard Everything. Because it's not happening. It's not me. Nothing is falling apart. It's not happening. I'm not here. I wash it away. I move on.


I have a theory.
I have a We-are-happy-people-theory.
I'm tired of being victimized. I'm tired of waiting for sympathy and people patting my back, smiling, ohhh dear lord, poor thing how can she survive all the shit that's happening in her life!
I'm done with this shit. I'm not a miserable person. I am a happy person, with problems.


I never write as my own narrator. I never write in the voice of me. When I started this blog, I only told stories that are pointless, funny, or sarcastic. Which is only part of me, that is .. the most obvious. I suddenly turned into this dramatic, artistic literary bullshit writer. And I never talk as me, except in tags and what not. I never write as me, because I like to think that, although the things I write are my own thoughts, that writing about them in that specific way will detach them from me. So they are only remotely connected to me. I don't want to be associated with this dark, cussing and fussing, emotional, stupid narrator of those pieces. I put myself on a pedestal. And I shall forever remain there.
I'm full of shit.


It's an in-the-air-thing. Nan has a feeling it's about the sun and the moon.


STOP TALKING TO ME ABOUT MARRIAGE ALREADY.




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