But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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Senseless
noc-tur'nal a. 1. of the night. 2. done, happening, etc. at night.
Webster's definition of nocturnal. I am sure anyone who reads this could have just as easily spit out the definition, but at this hour I have nothing better to do. I am neither a creature of the day or the night, nor am I not. I am not "done" or "happening" and I am not, "of the night." I am "just." And at dusk I am awake, and at dawn I am awake. I am not in a slumber at noon. This insomnia is driving me a bit mad, and to my relatives I have been slightly standoffish, especially my mother, and even insolent, but to my friends I always seem insouciant. This amazes me, because I do not realize it, it is not an act, I do not put on different faces for different places, I am simply who I am.
This is all too confusing... I feel despondent... I know not where I am going with this entry. I feel so upheaved by all the events of the past week. So exhausted and in need of sleep. Instead, I sit, in a state of apathy, yet not completely, staring, eating, consuming...
Gaining in mass as I consume volume. And though I have people my land is desolate. A desolate island with communications oversees. And I am stranded. Because the people that understand, who care, they are so distant, untouchables, and I may never see them. Those who understand my fear about getting asked out by a 50+ year-old man who owns a liquor store to go drinking, when I am 19. My friends laughed, and tried to persuade me to go out with him so I could get them free beer.
My fears... Of men, of beauty, of rape, of alcohol, of sex, of drugs, of marriage, of drugs, of never having a job, learning to drive, having kids, being married, getting better, suddenly being different, cancer, mice, roaches, theft, people crawling through the window, high sugars, low sugars, my dogs dying, bad marks, people being mad at me, accidents... So many, an affinity.
I tried to doubt there was a god earlier. I tried so hard. But I couldn't actually make myself not believe it, my faith is so strong. Because if I didn't believe, it would be so easy to end it all. I would have no guilt about suicide, nor any thoughts about the afterlife. But I know that God does exist. And sometimes I am so bitter about his existence.... Because I don't want one. It is my selfishness that excludes my considering all of humanity when this thought crosses my mind, and as soon as I realize this, I am so grateful that God does exist that I am immediately sorry, and thankful as well. Because I am my own mistake....
1:51 AM - Tuesday, Dec. 21, 2004
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dying - living
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