Saturday, July 10, 2004
INSERT ANGSTY SUICIDAL GOTH MUSIC LYRICS HERE!!!1!ONE!
Holy shit, the world is full of depressed people. More specifically, depressed teenaged girls into heavy black eyeliner and lipstick and a penchant for Angry Goth Music.
What is sad -- no, pathetic would be a more proper term -- is that even I, my fine friends, have been among them. Even I am suspect to this crime.
It's been said before that the world is filled with people from many different walks of life. For a good portion of the year, I belong to a select club of individuals with the same mental disorders and the same morbid tendencies. Not all of us are afflicted with the wonderful psychological disorder known affectionately as Bipolar Disorder/Manic-Depression, but I happen to be one who is afflicted with this damn hateful disease. Try as I may, I fight, bite, bitch, snitch, cry, and die with this shit. For lack of a better word. For shit is what it is, my friends. Utter fucking shit of the bull variety.
Sometimes, though, I am normal. I'm charming, witty, and lovable -- hell, even the dreaded perky -- when the darkness shrugs from my shoulders a bit.
I liken it to the Greek myth about Persephone.
What amuses me is that when I am...hm, the very definition of normalcy, even I cannot suffer these damned suicidal gothic vixens in their drab clothes and their deathly pale skin. As delicious as they may appear to the eye, they are rotten fruit; through and through.
And for fucksake, I hate the fleshy, gritty taste of worms.
I save my angst for my other lovely journal, but as with this journal, no one is listening there, as well, so ah hell -- what fun is a journal without a little self-psychoanalysis? I'm the bestest therapist I know. I also come cheap, and that's all that matters.
because in the end, the virtue of coming cheap accounts for everything -- dammit, just ask welfare moms
la vie en rose
2:14 AM
Who Am I? What Is This?
"Who are YOU?" said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I -- I hardly know, sir, just at present -- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."
In my early years, I blossomed in the backwaters of Osgood, Indiana. While its charming backwardness helped to shape me into the member of the female species whom I am today, I do not regret hightailing it out of the seventh level of Hell after graduation ended. What was it like to live outside of civilization? Watch Deliverance, Mississippi Burning, Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?...you'll see the point I'm making here.
My specialties are foreign languages (specifically German and Japanese), Asian studies and history, linguistics, world literature, and etymology. The fine arts, if they please.
I am: a halfbreed, bipolar, borderline, schizo, paranoid, anxious, occasionally depressive, constantly battling the desire to bring harm to myself, sometimes battling the need to kill others, not easily put into any identifiable sexual preference group, polyamorous but am not a "slut," in an open marriage, a mother of three, creative sometimes, working on a novel, a published poet, a fanfiction writer, an artist of many trades, an infrequent singer these days, a wannabe musician, a lover of all musical genres, a big kid who still adores cartoons, a big nerd specializing in everything imaginable, and...well, this list could go on, but I won't let it.
Warning: Be prepared to read all sorts of political, psychoanalytical, macabre, philosophical, self-analytical, and just general babble within this journal. If the thought doesn't turn you on, then go elsewhere. That doesn't mean that I shy from a good debate. All opinions are tolerated here. Who am I to keep others from their First Amendment Rights?
