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(9:51 pm - 08.21.2002 - rollercoaster feeling - i feel  ) i am attempting an entry. there's so much i want to say, and so much i can't put into words. i came home early from work on friday, and then i called off work on saturday and sunday. no reason. but i did get sick. payback is a bitch. there's so much i need to write and i don't know how i can. i don't even know why i'm trying because whatever i write won't be what i really want to say. i love waiting days to make an entry. i love seeing if anyone cares if i'm gone. but, no one ever does. why do i care so much? the fucking olp concert is tomorrow. they're putting on an acoustic set at the hard rock before the show, and we're going to try to go to that too. fuck, i really want a tape recorder! i'm just happy i get to spend some time with amira and nik. there's a centipede in my house. i should have killed it when i saw it, but i was afraid that i would have missed and now i haven't seen the fucker for a few days. i fucking hate bugs. someone please save me. i fucking got to see my step-sister! fucking finally. she came down with her fiance and we talked for about a half an hour. god i miss that bitch. i remember a conversation i had once with someone about if it was possible to love two people at the same time. i now take back everything i said before. i don't think it's possible for that to happen. if you fall in love with someone when you love someone else, eventually the feelings you have for one of them will slip away. you might want it to happen. you might do everything possible to not make it happen, but it just does. you are no longer in love with that person, but you can still love that person. i'm sorry person i had the conversation with, i should have known that you were right. ha, god. ummmm. i've felt so many emotions just over the last 24 hours. i have to write this, i'm sorry. whenever i'm feeling suicidal, i never ever wanted to cut myself. that changed. i forget what nite it was, but i was sitting in my aisle, thinking. staring at my fucking pale white wrist. i had the urge to just slice my wrists and watch the pure red blood run out of my veins and spill all over the floor. i wanted to see what kind of art i could create with my blood dripping on the floor. i wanted to see what my arm would look like with blood running all around it. i wanted to. i don't think i could ever do that. we got fucking jones soda at work. that made my day a little brighter yesterday. but not bright enough. have you ever been so happy that you just wanted to die right then, cause you knew that nothing you ever did again in life wouldn't make you as happy as you were right then? nothing else would even compare? no, that's not how happy i was about the jones soda. i'm aimlessly writing. i came in here with a goal in mind, but that goal slipped away. my mind is foggy. i can't think clear anymore. not that i ever could, but even the thought of me ever doing that again is gone. i hate fucking censoring my thoughts. i'll be typing away, typing away, and then i'll just delete it all 2 seconds later. there's a lot that i don't share with my diary. there's a lot that i can't let the world in on. there's a lot that i want to say, but the world won't let me. fuck that, if i wanted to say it, i really would, wouldn't i? just how fucked up is this entry? god, if you read this, i'm sorry. it doesn't quite make much sense. *there goes another deleted thought, something that i can't share at this time* can't share? or won't share? god, i'm fucked up. it was nice for mike to give me a hug yesterday. i feel even worse when i end up crying in someone else's arms. i couldn't let him hold me for long, as i turned away, sick. i hate that question "what's wrong?" i think every woman hates that question. that's why we always say nothing. we really want to tell you. but what happens after we do? what are you going to do to make it better? what can you do to make it better? i wasn't depressed at all when i started this entry... now i feel... well, lots of things. violent. fucking violent. (but that won't last for long) depressed, fuck, what do you care? if i tell you i'm depressed, what will you do about it? fucking nothing. does anyone really care about anyone else in this world the way that i feel about others? i can hear someone laughing after reading that last statement. you know what my favorite word is? i know you want to know. for awhile it's been animosity. but that's definitely not how i feel about you. you know that rollercoaster feeling? when you connect with someone on so many different levels that you feel like you're fucking flying and your whole body wants to jump out of it's skin? that has to be the best feeling in the world. i want to bottle that feeling, so i can always remember it when people stop loving me, stop doing things to make me feel that feeling. and also, when you're interested in someone, you want to be interested in everything that person is as well? is that just me? i just want a deeper look into your world, i want to love the things that you love. hear the things that you hear. cry at the things that upset you. 25 times. that's all i can think about. fucking 25 times. i have an image in my head that i'll never be able to get rid of. when you leave and it's quiet, that's the first thing i think of. 25 times. there are times when everything feels perfect and i want to write a beautiful poem about how i'm feeling at that exact moment. how everything around me is, so maybe you can understand better. i come up with a great beginning, or maybe just a line or two, but then i realize, i suck horribly at poetry. kind of the way i suck at life. this whole entry really did have a point. why, tell me why-do you hurt yourself-when you know i love you ~*~liz there goes another thought that i won't/can't share << - >> if you really loved me, you'd buy me presents | 