restless and immature

6:18pm: My journal is now Friends Only.
You can have the past, I'll keep my future.

12:36am: I leave early with my coat on and my boots off.
I use a beer like a cane, to keep my weak legs steady, sitting on a leather couch, which must have been made to be uncomfortable. Over a half dozen people sit, stand, talk, laugh, and I cannot amend my countenance. They always make fun of the fact that I never take my chef's coat off in their presence, I have no desire to be exposed. I am stiff and leathern, unhappy. I am inanimate and unable to feel their presence. One beer, two beer, three beer, I tense instead of loosen. Why has my serum become faulty? My only solace.

12:28am: It is always a million times more complicated than ever it needs to be.

1:22pm: Today I am wearing wing tipped doc martens, beige slacks, a black button up that is opened at the top, untucked, and rolled up at the sleeves, and a polka-dot tie loose around my collar. I thought I was going for grungy, punk rock business... people have been telling me that it is so nice I dressed up... all day. How the holy fuck do I usually look?? Do i look like some dirty slacker? Because I really don't feel that I am dressed up. I'm wearing a fucking spike bracelet, for god sake! Maybe I need to change the way I dress at work.

10:25pm: Fuck, acting out is so much easier.

8:56am: I miss adolescent anger, gave me something to look forward to.

7:51am: I have been acting out, lately. I really hate it when I do that.

9:36pm: I am so full of insecurities that I cannot bear to be in my own skin. I wish I could drink enough to drown.

8:51pm: I have realised that there are stages to my reactions, especially when people gives me answers to questions that I do not necessarily like.
*First, I react poorly... be it with anger, depression, and/or simply blowing the entire thing out of proportion. That can last anywhere from about a couple of hours to a day or two.
*Second, acceptance; I have come to terms with the knowledge, and find the point is valid.
*Third, self-reproach; How dare I have such a stupid fucking flaw? Weak! I'm weak and pathetic!
*Fourth, motivation to change; I refuse to go on this way! Fuck that shit!
Of course, motivation to change can be caused by a number of reasons. Anywhere from the sheer pig-headedness of steadfastly refusing to be such a weak creature to, more often than not, refusing to put anyone through such uncalled for behaviour again. It's far more often the latter than the former.

People usually find all of these behaviours unusual at first. Often times they take step one at face value, and then refuse to answer my questions honestly again. To those that have witnessed all of my phases of acceptance, they find it.... boggling. People do not understand how quickly my emotions change. THere is a method, however, there are reasons. Why would I choose to continue to be shitty in any way, shape, or form... when there is an alternative? Why would I choose to be closed minded?
There is something I tell people I date and that is this; Just because I reject it once doesn't mean I will reject it twice. Hell, sometime in the future I might bring it up myself.

7:45am: I feel as though I am several different people or have several different people within me. Of them are a small child and a very judgmental parental figure. Any time I am learning something, studying, I can feel the presence of that adult over my shoulder, counting the time it takes my brain to compute. It yells at me and degrades me terribly, completely undermining my growth. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You haven't figured this out yet!? Are you stupid?! I've been telling people you're a genius, you fucking disappointment."

You fucking disappointment.

It's a miracle I retain any knowledge at all, really.

7:04pm: What is this audacity that leads me to believe I could be a worthy writer without a platform of education? I have a sophomoric mastery of language, at best. I do not read at all. Those whom I envy and admire have been eating books for the better part of two decades. I can count the books I have read on two fucking hands. It is disrespectful - abhorrent- to be expectant with so little effort. Julia said to me once that I had "potential," and I found that insulting, degrading even. I am still a child.

If I truly desire to be a writer, I'm going to have to do better than... this...

5:28pm: I am a shitty, shitty writer. It's painful to be so mediocre at something that feels like such an awful necessity.

1:04pm: I would really hate to think people judge me by my journal. I'm a pretty easy person to get along with, I smile bright for the pretty cameras.

10:44pm: When I was young, I had a self-injury problem that nearly got me killed. I used to cut my stomach, so no one would find out. One day I accidentally severed a vein. I bled for two days, without stop. Finally, I passed out. My parents took me to the hospital, and I got stitched up.

I haven't injured myself in almost ten years, but the scars remain. When people see them, I watch their countenance change entirely. My scars are unmistakably self-imposed. Doctor's have gone from attentive to dismissive, co-workers look slightly stunned, but never speak of them. Friends act as if they simply are not there.

I am never sure how I should feel about them. My instinct is to cover the scars, only because I fear people's notions. But they are mine. They are a reminder of the horrible traumas I have endured, and the suffering I have had to overcome. They are a sign of my survival, I only wish I could derive some sort of pride in that.

4:20pm: Felicity;
I don't know if you still read my journal. It would be audacious of me, to think you still think of me. I can't reach you, your phone number is no longer yours. You have a tendency to change your email accounts on a regular basis, and I have no idea where you live anymore.

Get in touch with me. The idea of never being able to speak to you again scares the shit out of me. It literally gives me an anxiety attack.

Don't go missing.

10:46am: The intricacy of human emotions and interpersonal relationships are simply astounding. Feelings motivate everything any human ever does... and love which seems an omnipresent entity is such a driving force in every single life. I marvel at emotions. I'm in awe and wonder over relationships and the nuances of communication. The impact of one human being colliding with another is enough to cause a seismic reaction. The domino of that trembling foundation is the catalyst which propels humanity ever forward.

Fear encompasses my life, fear of complacency, abandonment, success, failure, the fear of being unlovable. The fear of being fearful as a sign of weakness. Hehe. The absurdity in the most grand somehow makes me happy.

6:18pm: Wow, after reading some of my posts to this journal over the last few months.... I've decided, I need to get out of my head more. Less thinking, more being.

6:05pm: Ugh, when do I stop hating myself... like... seriously? When?

5:56pm: At work, I work at being a different person. I am very conscious of my bad words and bad behaviours. I think before I speak, and I worry how I am perceived. At work, I practice being a better person.

Then I go home... and revert to the same shitty person with the same pointless insecurities and act like the same old weak willed, pissy, whiny child with a MASSIVE inferiority complex.

Maybe I should work harder at home, and being decent and healthy at work would come naturally.

10:16am: Toning down;
I feel, at work, I am too honest with my personality. I have a lot of... quirks... shall we say? And they may be inappropriate for the workplace. I don't have a very good grasp on self-censorship, though. I need to learn to filter my thoughts and feelings and be a more neutral, thus palatable individual. Bland is better than abrasive.

2:27pm: My day has been tremendously stressful. I have a million events planned for work, and it gets to be a bit overwhelming to manage them all. If I still drank, I'd be heading to a bar right after work, or in the very least, buying a couple bottles of wine.

3:02pm: I think of relationships in the same way that I think of communism; it's a fantastic idea. The idealogy, profound mysticism of a self-sustaining, self-nurturing system, that is watched over, cared after, by a ubiquitous entity... such as government... or love...

I am too much of an imperialist.

7:07pm: With his boots off...
There is a place that I go, sometimes. Lush green; palm trees, Florida pines, knee high grasses, and wild flowers abound. There are giant lizards that slither like snakes in and out of the canal, living off the banks, colorful butterflies, grasshoppers, and moths. I fish there. It's the place I met a homeless man, whose name I just discovered today... on his makeshift grave. He lived off the fish in the canal, swam there every day, was constantly drunk, and never short of a story. He was entertaining and interesting and irreparably broken.

Sgt. Robert Jayes.

I would love to say that I will remember his name forever, but I won't. I will, however, remember his scruffy beard and his 70s style shorts, one fanciful story after another spilling forth from his mouth, and swimming with the alligators.

10:14am: Girls spend a ridiculous amount of time amending and perfecting thier handwriting. I am certainly guilty of it. I wonder why it is, and why men do not feel the same inclination?

9:23am: I have food poisoning. I haven't gotten it since I was in Uzbekistan. I forgot how horrible it is.