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J O U R N A L

6.15.2008

 
Oh, and I love how every time I try to write anything on myspace, no one gets it, and thinks I am talking about my job.

My job is going just fine [aka my clubs/fashion shows]
"knock on wood," as they say.


that's not what i am talking about at all.

people always just assume i am talking about my career path.


i HATE being misunderstood.


*may @ 4:19 AM* []


 
maybe *everyone* wants to live in their doll house lives and ignore all the problems...that's why nothing is ever solved.

but i have tried to deal with this problem over and over again...

she is the un-fixable problem

that never goes away

and she is trying, [without meaning to,] drag me down with her.

there is no escape from her problems except to get rid of her, but that would make her problems even worse...

so must i be dragged down to the ground for her sake?


a drowning person will [accidentally] drown you while you are trying to save them.


*may @ 4:08 AM* []


 
how do you write a book where all the heroes are villains?


How can you write a completely honest book without incriminating the people you love?

There is no good and evil, no black and white.



How can I paint the best people I know as good when their flaws will immediately make them look worse than murderers?


The monsters snatch the girl from her loving mother, and when the girl returns to her mother at last, she finds her mother has become an even worse monster, and reality is destroyed.



The hero saves the girl, then murders her, then saves her again.




How can I ever write my book in the right words?


7 years, it remains unwritten.




Do I protect the hero-villains? Do I paint them as heroes only?

Or do I tell the whole truth and lose every secret?

Destroy my life and the lives of others.........
is the truth worth it?

How do I write my book?


*may @ 4:01 AM* []


 
so many things i cannot say publicly. so many secrets.

things only a few know.


secrets from myself.


i liked it better when i knew almost no one and could say whatever i wanted and the strangers were my friends.


things are going in circles, but getting worse, my own problems are not so bad, i deal with them as they come up, although my entire existence built on a broken foundation, but i bypass that part...

it's my mom's life that is the problem.

every single thing that could ever be wrong is. it's all the bad things all over again .... back at square one for her... another 7 years.

i don't know who is reading, i don't know who is judging, i don't want to write the details but i do.

i don't know what i want.


another person.

she said that people understanding me is what makes me happy... maybe she is right. maybe that is it.


because sometimes i write and it's not because i want people to feel sorry for me, i hate that, and it's not because i want a conversation, because i don't....

i just want to be heard, and understood, and that is all.

and i don't know why.

maybe that is just what every human wants.


*may @ 3:50 AM* []


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