Carpe Noctem
Bluelighter
something i wrote when i stopped doing crystal meth. yeah, withdrawal. it's not titled, it's long though.
- - - -
Most of the time people don’t want to deal with the feelings that they’re facing. I’m sitting here feeling completely blank, the music is playing and I’m listening but I ain’t too sure if it’s helping me or not. I wish my fingers could keep up with my brain but unfortunately that’s not an option. I wish this goddamned thing wouldn’t capitalize things automatically but at the same time I wish that it would fix all the obvious fucking typos that I come across. My mind is whirling, like a tunnel, down a tunnel, it’s too many colors and I can’t stand it. I don’t know if I’d be able to breath if I stopped, for just as I was reminded I felt lightheaded and took a breath. What the FUCK is going on? This is pissing me off because I can’t understand myself, can’t understand why I’m acting like this. I don’t know where it stems from and I’m afraid of the ominous monster it could grow into, a real life Audrey II who could eat me. Eat me up and I’m scared of it. Nowell’s voice sounds so pleading, and it matches so perfectly to my mood. What is going on? Not to sound too redundant but I am going cuckoo clock insane? I don’t know how much I’m going to write, perhaps until I’m exhausted but I feel some life coming back into my bones but OH NO WHY OH WHY does it feel so sad and so wrong?! It’s not energy but its draining the energy and it’s making me even more frustrated, which in turn makes me write more which drains me more and more. I don’t know how to plug it up or make it stop, but it’s a neverending cycle and I’m not even looking at the screen anymore, only looking at my fingers and trusting them to dissolved my thoughts into something lucid and clearcut to where I can understand them - - oh god I feel so lost, even in writing and that’s what saddens me the most. The one thing that I’m convinced can save my sanity is turning me mad. I suppose it’s not a coincidence that nearly every brilliant artist is somehow crazy, but at the same time Why Why Why does it have to happen to ME, of all people….? Maybe I’m not crazy but my brain is just convinced that I am, some stupid thought put on as a show for others, some fucking subconscious theory which dwells in that locked away portion of my brain that even I don’t know what to do with. I can’t do whatever THIS is anymore. I don’t know what THIS is. Something is bothering me and I want to cry but I can’t - - maybe it has to do with something about how I feel like there’s nothing to cry about, so why would I do it to begin with…? Usually I just give up and go to sleep when something like this happens, but I’m so restless. My sleeping patterns are so fucked up and I wouldn’t normally mind it, but my sleep is so damned restless (when I get to it, that is) and the notion of insomnia is quite a heavy possibility. Insomnia is either too much sleeping or not sleeping at all. Seems as if I have a bit of both. When I am sleeping its for too long and too deep, and when I’m awake and staying awake - - its so hard to get to sleep. What’s going on? Every now and then I look up at the screen and I see how much I’ve written in this time and I’m almost afraid to look back on it, ‘cause you know… seeing into my own soul would be the most frightening thing. Maybe I’m scared of the truth… whatever that may be… but if I could at least be given some insight on this situation I wouldn’t feel so blind. Is it drugs? Could that be it? I’ve been sober for about a month now and maybe it’s drugs. Maybe it is. I don’t know. Maybe it’s separation from Matt. That seems damned likely - - its obviously evident that I miss him so so SO extremely much, but is it possible for someone to experience physical and emotional drainage from being away from a person…? My mind still works and my body still functions, but I feel as if I don’t have a good hold on it and I don’t like that feeling at all. I’m irritated and sarcastic beyond my usual self and it’s such a confusing thing. What to do? I don’t know if writing’s even going to help me. Usually I write until the discomfort ends, but it’s not tapering off and it’s beginning to concern me. I want a cigarette so badly but I’ve been coughing all day and I’m too lazyfucking downfallen to get up and go all the way downstairs to bum one from someone in the freezing cold. …….Cold! what the hell’s the deal with that? I’ve got a jacket on and the heat’s even kicking, but still I feel chilled.
God I feel like kicking something alive; I wanna hear it hurt, I wanna feel satisfied… but then that always ends up with me feeling guilty.
I need something and I don’t know what it is, yet at the same time my intuition mocks me by repeating that even so… I wouldn’t be able to get what that something is.
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AIM: Jetty201
SickOfBeingSober
CaRpe N0cTeM onE
- - - -
Most of the time people don’t want to deal with the feelings that they’re facing. I’m sitting here feeling completely blank, the music is playing and I’m listening but I ain’t too sure if it’s helping me or not. I wish my fingers could keep up with my brain but unfortunately that’s not an option. I wish this goddamned thing wouldn’t capitalize things automatically but at the same time I wish that it would fix all the obvious fucking typos that I come across. My mind is whirling, like a tunnel, down a tunnel, it’s too many colors and I can’t stand it. I don’t know if I’d be able to breath if I stopped, for just as I was reminded I felt lightheaded and took a breath. What the FUCK is going on? This is pissing me off because I can’t understand myself, can’t understand why I’m acting like this. I don’t know where it stems from and I’m afraid of the ominous monster it could grow into, a real life Audrey II who could eat me. Eat me up and I’m scared of it. Nowell’s voice sounds so pleading, and it matches so perfectly to my mood. What is going on? Not to sound too redundant but I am going cuckoo clock insane? I don’t know how much I’m going to write, perhaps until I’m exhausted but I feel some life coming back into my bones but OH NO WHY OH WHY does it feel so sad and so wrong?! It’s not energy but its draining the energy and it’s making me even more frustrated, which in turn makes me write more which drains me more and more. I don’t know how to plug it up or make it stop, but it’s a neverending cycle and I’m not even looking at the screen anymore, only looking at my fingers and trusting them to dissolved my thoughts into something lucid and clearcut to where I can understand them - - oh god I feel so lost, even in writing and that’s what saddens me the most. The one thing that I’m convinced can save my sanity is turning me mad. I suppose it’s not a coincidence that nearly every brilliant artist is somehow crazy, but at the same time Why Why Why does it have to happen to ME, of all people….? Maybe I’m not crazy but my brain is just convinced that I am, some stupid thought put on as a show for others, some fucking subconscious theory which dwells in that locked away portion of my brain that even I don’t know what to do with. I can’t do whatever THIS is anymore. I don’t know what THIS is. Something is bothering me and I want to cry but I can’t - - maybe it has to do with something about how I feel like there’s nothing to cry about, so why would I do it to begin with…? Usually I just give up and go to sleep when something like this happens, but I’m so restless. My sleeping patterns are so fucked up and I wouldn’t normally mind it, but my sleep is so damned restless (when I get to it, that is) and the notion of insomnia is quite a heavy possibility. Insomnia is either too much sleeping or not sleeping at all. Seems as if I have a bit of both. When I am sleeping its for too long and too deep, and when I’m awake and staying awake - - its so hard to get to sleep. What’s going on? Every now and then I look up at the screen and I see how much I’ve written in this time and I’m almost afraid to look back on it, ‘cause you know… seeing into my own soul would be the most frightening thing. Maybe I’m scared of the truth… whatever that may be… but if I could at least be given some insight on this situation I wouldn’t feel so blind. Is it drugs? Could that be it? I’ve been sober for about a month now and maybe it’s drugs. Maybe it is. I don’t know. Maybe it’s separation from Matt. That seems damned likely - - its obviously evident that I miss him so so SO extremely much, but is it possible for someone to experience physical and emotional drainage from being away from a person…? My mind still works and my body still functions, but I feel as if I don’t have a good hold on it and I don’t like that feeling at all. I’m irritated and sarcastic beyond my usual self and it’s such a confusing thing. What to do? I don’t know if writing’s even going to help me. Usually I write until the discomfort ends, but it’s not tapering off and it’s beginning to concern me. I want a cigarette so badly but I’ve been coughing all day and I’m too lazyfucking downfallen to get up and go all the way downstairs to bum one from someone in the freezing cold. …….Cold! what the hell’s the deal with that? I’ve got a jacket on and the heat’s even kicking, but still I feel chilled.
God I feel like kicking something alive; I wanna hear it hurt, I wanna feel satisfied… but then that always ends up with me feeling guilty.
I need something and I don’t know what it is, yet at the same time my intuition mocks me by repeating that even so… I wouldn’t be able to get what that something is.
------------------
AIM: Jetty201
SickOfBeingSober
CaRpe N0cTeM onE
