"...then it might be easy..."

Song: I Wish I Felt Nothing
Artist: the Wallflowers
Some Shitty Fanvid: http://youtube.com/watch?v=0dix-PyMyDk

Say when you're alone
It's better 'cause nobody knows you
When no one's your friend
It's better 'cause nobody leaves you
So you turned your back
On a world that you could never have
'Cause your heart's been cracked
And everyone else's is goin' mad

But I hear voices
And I see colors
But I wish I felt nothing
Then it might be easy for me
Like it is for you

Now all of these people
Come up from deep holes, pullin' you down
And it's just no use
When all the abuse follows you down
By the morning you've gone
Leavin' me here all alone
Sayin' it's no mystery
I know that nobody here needs me

But I hear voices
And I see colors
But I wish I felt nothing
Then it might be easy for me
Like it is for you

And I know you believe
That you and me don't belong here
And the worst we could do
Is keep trying to pretend we care

But I hear voices
And I see colors
But I wish I felt nothing
Then it might be easy for me
Like it is for you
Like it is for you
Like it is for you
--------------------------------------------------
I thought about killing myself for the first time in a long time.

Today, I woke up at about 4 a.m. with such a bad pain in my back that it hurt to breathe. After holding my breath as much as possible for a few minutes, the ache subsided enough for me to situate a heating pad under me. A little later, the tension had ebbed enough for me to realize how hungry I was. I went downstairs, made myself some oatmeal, and ate it while watching part of “About Last Night…”. I tried sleeping on the couch; it didn’t work. I just couldn’t get comfortable, and the pain was back – not as sharp, but there. I tried bed again. Still couldn’t get back to sleep. I watched the sun rise over snowy rooftops through my bedroom window as I laid there, the heat on my back. I put on the Pogues and did a little musical background research. I thought how good a bath would feel…

…then the shit hit the fan.

Looking back, I don’t know what happened, exactly. My parents were mad, but I didn’t know about what – I figured it was the oatmeal bowl I’d left on the side table. So I picked it up, went to take care of it, and was suddenly being yelled at for walking away while they were talking to me. Now they were mad at me for not taking any medicine for my pain. I bit back a remark about how maybe Mom should have just put on a Band-Aid when she broke her leg, took some shit about how my college education was being funded (where that came from, I’ll never know), e-mailed myself some music off the downstairs computer, and came up here to write.

Write, and cry.

But on the way up, I had that vision, the way I used to back before I got some help. Just my arm, white like the fiberglass of the bathtub, then slowly the red line, gradually opening, becoming a slit, blood blooming out like red smoke or roses, the arm getting paler, my vision fading to black, just around the edges at first. And in the beginning it hurts, but by the end I just don’t feel anything.

I need school to be back in session.

Home again, home again, bloggity-blog

Song: Orchid
Artist: Oppenheimer
Note: Transcribed by yours truly, so there are some probable inaccuracies; however, the lyrics are nowhere online (I'm just that indie, or something).

Here, I stood and stared
Through the shop window
Through a floating glare
Your reflection shimmered
Among the flowers
Like silent gulls (haha, that's probably way wrong)
Are they even ours?

I don't even recognise myself anymore.

I'm running away; I'm lost under a spell
Where we go from here, I can't even tell.

So, what happened to me?
You held my hand as if you knew me.
You're tough as fuck and so, so pretty
An orchid living in the city.

I'm running away; I'm lost under a spell
Where we go from here, I can't tell.

Your kisses leave no traces that can be seen
Just like the hands of fate as they deliver you to me
And no matter what you do or do not really believe
I just can't close my eyes to what is happening between us.


Okay, moving on. Home is boring. My back hurts. For some reason I am unequivocally tired, hungry, and bored. I've seen five friends since coming home, and four of them were accidents. Ohwell. New webcomics are up, so I'm-a head. Bye.

Life Update.

I'm starting a new alter-ego. This excites me. Fresh possibility, or something to that effect.
I'm home. I'm not complaining. Seeing old friends can be good to an extent.
Hanging out tomorrow.. well, I suppose, later today.. might be fun.
Finals in three days. Not fun. In the slightest.
Paul Dano = le win.

Ever feel like a worker bee?

To do:
1. Paper - a bs'ed rough draft and a final draft, which will both be basically the same thing - due Wednesday.
2. Speech - to be given Wednesday.
3. Five chapters of reading from my soc book.
4. One article - only forty pages.
5. Sociology paper - due Friday.
6. Sociology group evaluation - due Friday.
7. Housing application for next year. Egad.
8. SCHOLARSHIPSSCHOLARSHIPSSCHOLARSHIPS!
9. Watch a film from a lecture I missed. Gaah.
10. STUDY. Finals are next week.

Someday, I want to be the queen.

On top of the workload, my nose is running uncontrollably, my head is stuffy, and my abdomen is weirdly cramped - which is better than yesterday, when I couldn't be parted from the restroom for long periods of time. I'm nearly out of money, as per usual; there's a dollar bill in my wallet, is all. My skin is dry. I'm going home this weekend...

/end whining

Well well well.

We meet again, o Blog.
It is nearly 6 a.m. (at the beginning of this writing). I have been putting off blogging all night/morning, using Facebook, MySpace, and Questionable Content. I also made a list of bands I need to add to my list. Erlack.
What a crazy night. Not even crazy. Just: WHERE DID IT GO?!?!?!

My roommate donated plasma for the second time this week. She then walked to the mall to meet my mom - who was in town visiting - and me, in the bitter cold. We hung out for a bit in Best Buy (this consisted of me being an indie-snob and having to be physically forced to not smash every Fergie CD in the place while bitching about which albums I had on vinyl and which I'd purchased for less than five dollars as opposed to Best Buy's asking price of WAY TOOO FUCKING MUCH) before she collapsed, with no colour in her face. My mom went for the car, we found an employee to get her some water, and eventually we hit IHOP. (It should be noted that they no longer "except" checks. What is the world coming to that such signs get posted?) Pumpkin pancakes, eggs over-easy, and hash browns later, my mom and my much-perkier roommate and I returned to le dorm.

10:30 p.m. I decide it's naptime. During said nap I have a dream involving my mouth and the nether regions of one of my exes. After I wake up, I read some QC for awhile. Gradually, everyone else in the room falls asleep. It's getting later now, approaching 2:30 and such. My "other roommate", a good friend from upstairs, comes to visit and chat about his party escapades of the night/how everybody is probably at least bicurious/things we have to do in the morning. He leaves. I'm IMing a few friends; I get propositioned twice and have to deflect two attempts to hook me up with friends-of-friends. Eventually I give up and crawl into bed, but the rather erotic dream from earlier keeps disturbing me. So I call said ex in an attempt to talk to him about it and perhaps resolve whatever issue it represents. As per usual, he is unhelpful and barely responsive (though, to his credit, it's now well past four). My mother, laying awake on the couch, hears the full details of the dream as relayed to the owner of the penis in it. Great. As I'm drifting off, she notes that there's a huge storm coming in and that she'd better get home; can I help her take stuff down to the car? Sure, Mom. No problem. I was FINALLY getting to sleep, but sure, I'll get out of bed and stuff. It's not like girls who accidentally dream about blowjobs deserve sleep.

Since then, I've been reading QC and unable to sleep. Also, brainstorming more obscure bands to add to the gigantic list at http://www.freewebs.com/sebhar/music.htm . And, last but not least, wishing my significant other would get online and somehow offer comfort through IM. However, as he has somewhere to be at 7:20, I can hardly lament the fact that he's asleep.

Now: the night has been blogged. The band list is in need of expansion. I have Diet Coke and I'm not afraid to use it. All-nighter and ensuing headache, here I come.