content?
10/26/2003 05:59 a.m.
i feel like i am doing exactly what i am supposed to-staying up late to write, bleed for all to see, and closing in the morning, like a nighttime flower. i feel like all is right inside my head, inside me. i am happy. smiling. what has my life come to that something as simple as coffee can make me smile? i can hear the poems and lines resound inside my head. they bounce off the sides, but today they do not feel unwanted. i have accepted that they are a part of me, just as my square jaw and smile are a part of me. they ask not to be written down, just pondered inside my mind, musings of my own. i do not know why you think my writings get better, maybe they are simply released from their chains for the time being? they are free, floating as they did when i was younger (and weirder, lol) when i was in middle school. when the poems flowed from the tip of my tounge and my mother claimed i spoke in riddles. i see now they were not riddles but metaphors for life. or maybe i just think that because i don't want to believe it was just that no one can understand me. they can't, but it's not because of anything that is wrong with me, but simply their inability to understand the metaphors i used. do not feel ashamed or scared to tell me anything, as i have seen and heard so much in my life, nothing will startle or scare me. i worry about you daily, you may as well give me reason to. haha. besides, i know myself that people with mental illness never get rid of it. it is never gone. it is simply better hidden. a bulimic will say she's stopped purging, but only once she has found a new way to purge the emotion.
I am currently Calm
I am listening to "Lila" by: Bright Eyes