Get your own
 diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries

They don't know what they started...

31 March 2008 - 13:12

I have blisters on both my hands, I'm tired, sore, nauseaous, and life sucks. Oh, and I got the beginings of a cold. The only thing good in my immediate surroundings is the Neurosonic blasting from my computer speakers. "Neck-deep in both your eyes, I finally feel alive. I give to you what's mine until the roof caves in and I realize..."

See, now the music's over. Seep again in misery. Switch to Otep.

"If you do this, you'll never have a chance to try again..."

Ok, life's better again. Funny how music is so distracting and uplifting all at once.

I haven't called the Dud at all today, because Alexis is flying back for his R&R and of course she's all excited and wants to be with her husband. *shakes head* I don't get that woman. Sometimes I swear she's more unstable and mentally unhealthy than I am, and that's saying a lot.

But thinking about her and her problems only makes me sad, and I don't need that now. So let Otep's Perfectly Flawed lull me into a stupor. "Nothing's wrong with you... must maintain control..." Yeah, baby, I hear you: "I HATE MY LIFE!!! I HATE MY LIFE!!!" Buried Alive. Otep so kicks ass. I wish they'd hurry up and come to Texas.

Nothing's making sense anymore. My fingers tingle on the keyboard. But at least I don't feel so crappy anymore. I think I need a nap, but I wanna hear Confrontation first. I'm debating on wheather or not to splurge on their album. "When you scream it sounds like a lullaby, when you beg I get all gooey inside..."

*sigh*

I've been meaning to draw for a while now, but never gotten around to it. I'm frusterated because I can't go back to school. Not and pass, anyway. Not enough hours in the day. And I'll be damned if I cut my hours at work. I'm just too used to making good money now. And I need to save up again after Pifas's funeral expenses. I'm still waiting for the people at the cemetary to put up his grave stone, and it's taking them so fuckin' long, it's exasperating. I feel this anger slowly bubbling up inside me. An anger that so enjoys this song now: "So they say I killed a man, so they say I took his head..." It's the anger that wants to splurge, the anger that wants to kill the money away and be free... Free of the restrictions of civilization, of society and courtesy to one's neighbor. I want to break this chair, smash the keyboard right through the monitor and fuck this, fuck everything, fuck it ALL.

"Don't be... silent. FIGHT!!!"

Ah, there's my song, dawg. Gotta run!

previous - next