MOOP!

So. Interesting dream the other night.

It was me and somewankerHe proposed to me, and I, of course accepted. I loved him, after all. And everything was peaches and sunshine, snuggles and hugs, for maybe ten minutes.

But those were ten minutes of thinking. And I broke off the engagement, gave him back the ring. The reason I told him was because our ages were too far apart, and people would frown on it. But that wasn't the real reason.

No, I think the real reason was that I didn't love him, and, more importantly, was already emboiled with too many relationships at once (I had apparently hit poly at some point in dreamme's history) and I didn't want to add another one, especially not a really serious one.

I remember the ring very clearly. It was gold, with a red stone, and an odd swoop to it. He had a matching one, that was slightly thicker. Like I said, it was all peaches and sunshine for maybe ten minutes, and then I gave it back. Although, I think I asked if I could keep the ring for some reason or another. Hard to describe, but I might be able to draw it. I'll try.

I don't know why I'm dwelling on this one so much. You don't see me focusing on the fact that Margret was dating Eric in a different dream or that I woke up to my alarm roughly a bazillion times in a third. But somehow, this dream pulled my focus somehow.

And WHY?! What the hell is my subconcious trying to tell me? That I flirt too much?! God, I knew that. That maybe love is just a cruel twisting illusion and I should break all my bonds and go hide in her pit? I don't think I hate myself that much. And why Ken?! I like him well enough, he's a great guy, but he really is at least 15 years older then me, and I don't think I've ever had any sort of romantic interest in him ever. Hell, I haven't even SEEN him in several months.

In other news, I have been strangely violent recently. Do you ever have just that sudden odd flash of a vision or a thought or an image that arises, unbidden in the corners of your mind? I always have them ocassionally -it's part of the insanity- but today they've been more then usually violent. Lying on the floor, seeing myself bound/strapped down. Insanity, that one. Not a straitjacket, but the nearest equivilant, and a mask to keep me from speech.

That one actually spread, to the point where I was trapped on the floor for a few fleeting instants. Luckily, that sort of self caging is easy to escape -all it was was visulizing the bonds snapping away.

And for the dirtier minded of you, there was no sex in it. There was nothing like that in the vision -it was all about power, methinks.

Two others, shorter. One of me crashing through the window in a hail of glass and blood, one of my head being slammed into the wall. More blood. Blood's sortof been on my mind, apparently.

This isn't me. I'm normally quite pacifistic, even to myself. Self-hatred is old hat at this point, but it's never hit this extent. And split second visions? Well...lets just say that, at this degree they're unmatched.

no.
Wait.

There was once. I think...I think it was just after I lost Chris, and Origins, and Dmitri. In the darkroom, which is already a lovely moody red-lit lair, walking past the papercutter. It's blade was raised. And there was that fraction of a second where I closed it onto someones head. Not anyone specific. Just...a someone.

Just a split second, and then it's gone. And all that's left is fear.

...Back momentatily.

*returns, carying a thick bright orange notebook. Part writings, part doodles, part rants, all me. And no, you can't see it*

"I passed a papercutter in the darkroom, the blade raised. I pushed it down on nothing, and for a split second, my thought was murder.

I do not think I am a violent person. I do not think I would be violent, hurt, kill another, but I had that thought. That split second of terror, of the want to kill.

It scares me. I do not like it when I scare myself."

Mm. I always forget things I've written, so when I trawl through these notebooks, it's always so...memorable.

It wasn't after Chris, or not just after. A fight with my parents perhaps? A rant, prior, 8 June. Following, a bad poem, written one day at lunch in memory of one of those people I miss far too much. The next date is 9 June...a chat with a charecter I had.

It's so disconnected too. I added much of the punctuation just now, it did not flow nearly as well. It reminds me...it reminds me of the breakdown.

I still don't know what happened then. Re-reading it, the closest I can come to figuring it out was that the banks of my thoughtstream just snapped and I got too far pulled in. And I just couldn't pull myself back to shore.

There's a LOT of poetry in here. Here, have some.

Self-Hatred:

I need to kill myself.
I need to take who I am, and destroy it, squash it, cut it into bits.
Reform it into who I need to be.
And be.

I need to kill myself.
I need to take this shiftless dremer, this impulsive fool who lives for the moment and nothing else
And slaughter her
And come back as someone smart.

I need to kill myself.
I need to break open my mind, and drag out the parts that shouldn't be.
The ideas, the dreams, the hedonism
And replace it with someone who gives a shit about school
About college
About life.

I need to kill myself.
Not in any so-called 'traditional' way
No ropes, no guns, no knives or pills
Just twisted thoughts and burning ideas
Out with the old, in with the new
Pheonix -reborn! Hurrah.
My mind a good place, neat and clean
And not the untamed wreck I've grown to hate.

I need to kill myself.
Not physically, but inside
Clense my brain of all that is wrong
And replace it with all that is right
Throw myself into my funeral pyre
Burn to a crisp, and then
From the ashes
Like a pheonix
Return.
Me again. Only better.

I need to kill myself.


...I never said it was GOOD poetry. I can't write THAT. Just bad poetry. Yes, even I spew emo from time to time. "Doom and gloom Kat, is that your style?" "Smiles and Sunshine Rin. is that yours?"

I haven't been Rin in a long while. She's died out, mostly. She was watching Hyde, for a while --she's the closest thing to immortal I've got-- but she hasn't Existed in some time.

...where's Hyde? They've all been quiet lately. I think he's fading though.

...shit.

*sighs*

He's there. Silent, but there. Same with Gabriel. Al's around, and very much reverting, which is not a bad thing, but mostly it just seems to be me these days.

Well

Me.
And Her.

Most of the time, I fight Her fair well, She hasn't grown any weaker in recent months, but I've grown much stronger, and what's more, I have better weapons these days. And Gabriel...blessed Gabe. Ever since That Dance, he's been amazing. Who knew that such a silly thing would be such a boost to the poor boys confidence. But that's good, he's helped to scare Her away more then once of late. And that is, after all, his job.

Although you can't hunt Her. You can try and pretend, but She is either there or She's not, and there's little you can do to change that. Currently, She's not. I don't write when I'm fighting Her, or at least, I haven't in a very very long time. Mostly because She writes back, and thats...thats never good.

I used to think she was the devil. That one day, with the blood red ink, and it spilled oh so perfectly all over my hands. That was a long time back -still with Ani and Kris and Ame. The first time, I think. When I was still confused, and didn't quite realize that She and Alis weren't the same.

What else is in this book of angst and whines?

Oh. That one.

I'm not supposed to want flowers, hell, I've read Queen of Wands. "Someone gave V and KT and Tyler even flowers, and blatently ignored me. That leaves the total number of flowers [that matter] that have been given to me EVER at one. One. Fucking. Flower, in 16 years of fucking existence. By MORH-PAUL, no less. Fuck them all."

Jesus, I was in a sour mood that day. Normally I try to limit my 'fuck' output to less then once per paragraph. Yipes. I don't even know what was getting to me, normally I wouldn't care even a little bit. Like I said, I've read Queen of Wands. Flowers are fleeting, and people don't get that that it's about having something pretty to enjoy, and not about getting the attention. But still. Attention is nice.

And it's a commonly known fact that I'm an attention-whore.

Oh dear, here's another peice of the notebook. "It's that whole cruel bitch thing. I want you to know I'm having problems, I just don't want you to be able to do anything about them." Me, in reference to myself. Isn't that sweet of me?

Shockingly though, that's dead on accurate to describing how I see myself. Behind the Walls...THERES a file I haven't updated in a while. But then again, that really was Chris's, and that bit of my life ended, so I lost the need for that bit of my journals.

"Did I mention that yesterday Paul tried to set me on fire? No? He gave me a hersheys kiss and then turned his lighter on right next to my arm. It was startling..."

Oh dear. I forgot about that. :D I do miss that boy, for all that it's probably better for my sanity and my health not to. I miss being able to keep an anal-type diary, the kind where I put down EVERYTHING. That's what Behind The Walls was. Is. Yes, it's secrets and squeeing and self-hate and rants, but it's the mundane things too. It's DDR and homework, and babysitting, and everything.

I think I've run out of bits and peices to say. The thoughtstream hasn't run out (It never runs out) and I haven't mentioned my frustrations with indie boys or assorted notes on crushes from the orange notebook of doom, or half the interesting bits and peices of BTW (or even a quarter or an eighth...)

But, what I have reached is a point of mellowness, where I'm no longer at any sort of upset or angry or confused. I'm calm. And THAT is when I know I'm done a thoughtstream. When I'm no longer writing out of anger.

So.

Thoughtstream Off.

~Sor
MOOP!