Ramblings of a girl

12_21_05

2005-12-22T02:39:43Z

Life is simply too busy. As the season goes full throttle, I find myself grasping the air for more time. One simply cannot stop the clocks, but it doesn't stop us from wishing. My body is getting shoddy from lack of upkeep. My brain is exhausted, and happiness is draining because I'm so intertwined with work I can't get enough free time to help keep my sanity. It's easy to find me wandering a hall as if I'm not even there. Sometimes I forget I'm there, the feeling is like falling asleep in the bath. The thing is you don't realize how long you've been breathing deep of the water of your bath tub, but when you finally wake up you're not even scared, you're just silent and you feel your body buzzing. Nothing hurts until you're finally fully conscious again. The world around you becomes a quiet hum that grows in strength as the seconds pass. First you hear your pulse, then you hear a trickling of the water in your ears and nose flooding out. Then the room comes alive with that hum of silence, you can hear the ripples in the water caused by your body shaking. Finally in full blast everything rushes back to your senses and you feel the water in your chest. The pain is unbelievable, almost as if your heart exploded. You see how puffed your belly is, how droopy and soggy your eyelids are, your pruned
fingers. This is the beginning to dying, and you just narrowly escaped the end. By the time you feel your skin and the way your hands feel on it you'll start to cry. The images of people you love flash before you in six seconds, and you finally know what separation really is. You hug your own flesh and drain the tub before stepping into the cold air that helps remind you that you're really alive.
Then it hits you that happened long ago, and yet you can recreate it in your own mind. You can recreate what death feels like just from not being in any consciousness. This only happens when you're not in reality, and you got lost on the way to Wonderland. It feels as though you never existed in your own mind, so you die in everyone else's. It's not a feeling I like to experience. Personally I don't want to drown in nothingness.

Is this true fear?

12_19_05

2005-12-19T05:53:08Z

(12:39 AM)

I tend to become paranoid. Over absolutely nothing and everything all at once. I know I have no reason to be scared right now but for some odd reason my gut is telling me otherwise. My mind and my conscious often conflict. If you have a garden sometimes you kick yourself for forgetting to water it one day, but you realize by tomorrow that the garden will still be alive, it'll just need a little spritz and it's your best friend again.
Today I spent my day alone and sober. It's awkward cause I'm sick and I can still push myself into that place if I need. Where everything is fine and everyone wants to be in my company. This isn't saying I don't have any friends, cause I do. I have a lot. But sometimes I feel socially awkward without even being social. Like I said to myself today, "Well then, today isn't a day you should try to be social for the duration of, or else you will be awkward and worried yet again". Truth be told my instincts were right. I did become awkward even with a phone conversation. It seems on certain days I just cannot connect with people, while on others I am the life of the party, sort of say.
Goodness I'd hate to bore you but sometimes I just need to get these things of my chest. Sometimes I feel as though I should crawl into a corner while others I feel as though I belong on the stage with people watching my every move.
My state has not been improving with the weeks, I still have an awful cold. It's quite annoying to tell the truth about it. I wish colds could take a hint.
"Go away cold, can't you see you're annoying me and causing me discomfort?"

Poor cold germs. Maybe they think they're doing a really good job and we're just like "You suck". Then after enough mental and physical beatings they finally call it quits and head out. Kind of how a lot of people view missionaries.
Wouldn't it be funny if cold germs were missionaries of the cell world? I mean, not many people like missionaries, and I'm sure not a lot of our cells like cold germs.

Poor bastards, cursed to be germs for all eternity. Imagine if no one liked you simply because you existed.

Now that I think of all this I feel kind of bad for the germs. I wish there was a polite way to ask them to leave, and not tell them that I hate them. Cause I don't think anyone wants to be hated really. Ah well, no one can like everything. But, I try my best.

12_18_05

2005-12-19T05:38:57Z

(2:08AM)

Wonderland. It's all I can think about. Languages of ancients come out of the woodwork. There's a dark river at night shadowed by rocks forming water caves. The moon tinkles a warm feel but the water lets off it's own cool. You make no sound stepping in, it's like a perfect decent into liquid state. Out of solid into liquid. Wonderland. A burning fire, a small village. Tree's are surrounding everywhere. The fire cackles and fireflies help with the light. People in strange garments help add to the music with small instruments I've never seen and flutes of various kinds. Pick instruments Dance, clapping, general happiness. And you don't feel like you do'nt belong. And you don't feel like you're all alone. And everyone is so much happier there than they are here. I just want to pull them next to me and tell them to close their eyes. I want them to see what I see and I want them to feel the warm of the fire and the chill of stepping out of the lake to go chase it. I want them to know the songs like I do. I want to lay them beside me and share my dreams. Maybe if they're close enough it'll work. Maybe they'll see like I do, and it'll feel better. Maybe the feeling of cold won't feel so cold if it goes with something lovely. Maybe they'll learn the songs made from words that don't even exist. Is babble really babble or is it some under formed type of language that we all know from birth but never really refined.

The heater turned on and snapped me out of it. Coming back from a vast forest through a scare like that. It's like something out of an evil area. Like the dark of the woods held creatures that no one would ever know, and no one would live long enough to understand.
That's the thing about wonderland though. The goods are really good, and the fears are just as scary as the pleasures are good. It's a sacrifice we all have to take sometime.

I'll sleep with the rose tonight for good luck.

12_16_05

2005-12-19T04:41:32Z

12-16-05
Sometimes I think this song was written for me to listen to.
"Sleep" by The Dandy Warhols.
It sounds like space coming towards me. It's probably best listened to while you're stoned and alone. The feeling is sad at first, but it's like you're sad because you witnessed something of extreme beauty. It's that happy kind of sad, the kind of sad that makes you feel you know is going to be ok again. The kind of sad you get when you hit the bed after a tiring day. It's like your heart is going to stop, but it never does. It's the beauty that you're half out of reality. And the song accompanies it. It helps you think of the lovely things in life. It's being stuck in a scene outside in the galaxy. There you are at the top of a beautiful haunted old mansion in the highest room, except the wall was blown off leaving an exposed sky surrounded by the most beautiful of decay. That old victorian decay, where everything is sepia coloured making it look worn out and aged, except in a pretty way. And there's no ground. And there's no building anymore. And you're exposed to the night sky, and although it's cold it feels like you belong there. Just floating in eternity.

8:38pm
Wonderland is all too real again. You know when sometimes you eat something and suddenly your breath gets taken away? Imagine that looking at a photo, and imagine that you're there. This beautiful boundless world of forests, lakes, and skylines. Forests of fungi in all different colours, some glowing with bright. A red orange painting impersonating a sky. Walking into a warm buzz of poppies and clovers, talking caterpillars, villages with little houses with no inhabitants, or they've gone out themselves. Walking in to drink a vile and reaching friendship with the dust-mites. Fireflies buzzing in the middle of dirt roads which happens to lead you to a castle. A garden of roses and bumbling guards, a queen who's not evil but misunderstood. I go there for a moment in time and I see an entire plot lay out before me, a series of events, a time line. It all happens in an instance. I just lived a life I never even existed in, and it all felt like swimming. That floating feeling that you get. Falling out of the sky. More and more I tend to fall out of reality. It makes me wonder, is reality actually real? Or do we live in the instances in our minds. If so can we create where we are? Can I change which dimension I live in just by thinking hard enough? Can I -create- my own reality? Maybe. Or maybe I'll just be put into an asylum. I'm not crazy, I just wonder. I wonder if there's somewhere where everything tastes like sweet, the clocks tick without order, and the inhabitants are mad but enjoyable. Somewhere where everything is lovely without question, and scary to the same extent. A place where shadows can hold dangers and friends with grins. Where every picture taken is scratched, already a memory. Tea time with a psycho, and rabbits with speech.

Maybe the person who wrote about it really went there like I do sometimes. Maybe when they just can't think, they do what I do and retreat there. Out of reality. Where everything feels beautiful. Where everything feels good. And once they came back they felt like the could breathe again. Finally fucking breathe.
To step out of one reality, and into another.
The transition.