[previous entry: "Ain't got no records to play"] [main index] [next entry: "In need of serious help"]

08/05/2002 entry: "D-d-d-dissthentic"

This moving message in the status bar of Moraine Valley's home page makes me feel like a serial killer. Like a psychotic, murderous fiend.

Or maybe like a coward, too scared to take others lives so he plunges the knife into his own gut just to make everything stop.

My head feels too tight, and having headphones on feels like I'm forcing the music into my ears and this only makes my muscles tense up more and more. Still, I'm somehow not taking them off.

I know I'm not like them, but I feel like every girl who has ever screamed out incoherently in the middle of a loud fast song. Maybe just because I feel all those screams stopped up inside of me, and it really wouldn't matter if it were these girls, or those girls or any girls and maybe even screaming like screeching, like sirens, like breaking would feel good too.

Not doing anything makes me want to leave the house less and less, even when I'm so fed up with everyone inside and even myself inside. Maybe I'm the one who needs to just leave for a couple days. A few days. A week. Longer. But then the question becomes, am I taking a much needed break, or just running away from myself once again?

So I've heard that a good way to organize your mind is to first organize your environment. Your office. Your room. Your house. Apartment. I keep trying and I keep losing. Does that say anything about my mind? And what exactly does it say about my mind?

At least, that I'm confused about a lot and I don't really know what's going on inside my head. Except hurt. Lots of hurt. Pain. Red. Inflammation. Something anti-aspirin. And anti-contentment. It just eats contentment.

All I know is I'm going upstairs to relieve some of this pressure and pain, by any means possible. I have three in mind at the moment.

God, what I wouldn't give for a good massage, at the very least. If I can get nothing else I need right now, I would appreciate just a little bit of that.

MOD are you out there?
I can't see your face
But you left a trace
On a data back road
That I almost erased.

Not even God takes this long to get back.
So get back.
Cause I hit a fork in the road,
Lost my way home,
Cut off from the main line,
Like a disconnected modem.
Hello?
Tap in a code,
I'll reach you below.
No one should brave the underworld alone.

Hello, how do I reach you?
Hello hello hello, how do I reach you?

Word has it on the wire
That you don't know who you are,
Well if you could jack into my brain
You'd know exactly what you mean here.
Fathers are trails on stars in the night,
Mothers are black holes that suck up the light.
That's the memory I filed on the fringe
Along with the memory of the pain you lived in
Hello?
I don't have the password
But the path is chain linked,
So if you have the time
Set that tone to sync.

Hello Hello, Hey are you out there
Hello Hello Hello, Hey are you out there?

Yeah, I switched the Fathers-Mothers in that part. It just didn't feel right saying it the other way.

Powered By Greymatter