unhinged i don't have the capacity to think about it anymore.

i know i am hypersensitive and that i shouldn't care about half the shit i care about because i can't control it, but telling myself i shouldn't care just makes me more upset when i do. i have tried to turn myself off. many different methods; associating with obviously shitty people, doing lots of drugs, not getting out of bed....

yeah, it doesn't work. and then after awhile i get sick of feeling like shit over people that don't give a fuck about any of it. and my mind shuts off. but it still hurts. and the reason that tears well to my eyes when i look at myself in the mirror nags in the back of my mind. am i going to have to wait three more years for some semblance of happiness?

i won't say i'm going to be alone forever because then they will say 'oh nicole, you'll find someone someday' yeah. right. there are a lot of 'someday's in my future. which someday will it be? the day before i die?

i don't want to get out of bed anymore. the big picture of shit, all the little stupid things that make my heart_pang ; it never ends. i don't think medication can retrain my heart.

yesterday my bow broke. exploded. i probably have to buy a new one. in the meantime, i really can't practice; there is no replacement for good equipment except more good equipment that i don't have the money for. it's like saying that your kid got a throat infection that settled in their vocal chords and they had to remove them.

i don't want to get out of bed anymore. people are stupid and mean. even my own violin is against me. maybe nothing more than a bunch of self_indulgent whining but whatever. don't hate me cause i'm annoying. hate me cause i hated you first.
hy rare occasion
it is good to know these scents exist outside myself.
ethereal i would rather never have to smell the ache of my own heart in anothers.

why do we feel better when we know someone suffers too.

i understand.

i do too.

i need to know that others feel this pain.

the aching core.

the unhappy ties.

i sincerely know.

what you mean.



unhinged but mostly it was medical pms

my uterus just won't give me a break these days. suicidal thoughts and horrible physical pain. *shrugs*

not too much new around here
oldephebe *projects a hug to unhinged* 040302
unhinged i have the need to formulate words; the psychologist at rehab told him that if you wrote letters to people who helped you even if you never sent them the process of writing it down was good therapy. and i've been here for years doing that and it always comes back to the same shit. no matter how i write it or who i write about, it's always the same shit. and all these ideas swirl on the tip of my brain quickly discarded cause they sound like everything else. neruda said that a good poet connects man to nature. i can only write about myself. i have all these words in me that i don't want to let out because they all sound the same anymore. blah blah...i am lonely...blah blah...they are assholes....blah blah. it is so busy that it is still. 040306
Achilleus Does writing this stuff make a difference? I'm not sure that its good therapy... I mean I do it compulsively when I'm happy and when I'm sad and when I'm angry. But I go through phases where I don't feel like being literate and all I do is play music... but its the same emotional spectrum. I'm just as fucked up or just as balanced if I let it out or not.

No, maybe thats not true. I went pretty quiet after I lost someone a while ago. Like - you know how everyone wants you to talk about it when you lose someone? Somehow thats going to help. Like saying they're gone will bring them back. I reckon if I'd tried to talk about it I would never have been able to stop. I would have lost myself in the torrent that came out - and who knows what would have become of me? Violence and hate. Suicide maybe.

As it is when I talk about it now, which I can, I feel odd doing so and skip over it. Even looking at the past paragraph is painfully ineloquent... and I'm not even directly saying much. The grammar is the first to go when you're starting to panic.

So maybe saying stuff isn't good therapy? Or is it only good for some things/sometimes?
poet maybe i should write things down... ive built up my walls so high so no one can get in but now i dont want to let anything out either. i dont even like to write thoughts down for myself. and now im getting stir crazy and im sick of being alone but im trapped behind my walls and i forgot how to get out... if i ever knew how.

and unhinged i realize it was a few years ago but for its worth i hope things have gotten better
mahayana die, die inside this silence
wake up lovers, for it is time to start the journey
it is time to die

do not be flattered by your justifications
do you not hear what silence says

friend in the past do not look back
for when i see your face
i do not want it to plant seeds of devotion

blank mind | aching heart | barren soil

you have woken up late
for it is time to start the journey

thorns in my side my body pulled my soul
ill leave suddenly like resurrection

one day your heart will take you
by then it shall be too late
for i'll surely be gone
unhinged . 120927
unhinged i have adjusted my mind over the years, but the heart still aches. i can look at the nature of my mind without the objects i place upon it and be amazed, but i haven't reached that place with my heart.

i am beginning to think my hormonal imbalances might be my heart's way of screaming for my attention. these days i can make myself so busy with work i don't have time to pay attention. then i make some time to sit and before i know it my tears are forcing me to gasp for breath.

after all these years, what i've been asking for still seems to be an unreasonable request.
ever dumbening from the choir loft amen to that shit sister. 131014
unhinged .. 160707
what's it to you?
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