I'm reluctant to move in any direction right now, I don't feel like sleeping or waking up. I don't want to speak to anyone, but when someone speaks to me they'll either remind me of happy times and I'll laugh and feel happy or I'll fill up with rage and contempt towards them and what they say. I'm tired of responding. thinking. doing [nothing]. I don't want to dress up or undress; tired of the thought of taking a shower or brushing my teeth, yet doing these things, I'm very pleased with myself and the outcome. Clean teeth, hair, comfortable clothes; soft.
Times like these make me wonder how large the possibility is that I'm losing it or how people end up in that state. How does one... and why don't they.
[...]
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
This apartment consisted of bits and pieces plagiarized from several homes I've been let into, not that the outcome was all that pretty or appealing. It didn't feel like home, it felt strange and unfamiliar, and I had responsibilities I didn't remember asking for. Lots of light, lots of space, lots of nice furniture I would never invest in - and the baby I was to look after.
Somehow I was more fascinated by the elephant that could tie its own shoelaces and had six feet; while it wore high heels on three feet and slippers on the other three, I watched it tie them neatly with its trunk and found it amusing. The lady who owned it walked out of the living room that had turned into the outdoors and continued along the road into the jungle, while I was left with a smaller elephant of my own. Quickly I tried to find my elephant shoes as well in order to follow, but they had already disappeared and I felt helpless.
I was back in the living room again with the baby playing around and he looked much like my nephew. He was so tiny he could be dressed in doll clothes and that's what he agreed to wear, so we could go outside. I kept going along with it, even though it felt unpleasant. The door to the balcony was open and there were dozens and dozens of cats that all wanted to play with me; I wanted them to leave me alone. I could feel them on my legs and their claws scratching me. The doorbell rang and I asked Lotta to get it, but she didn't want to help me out. There was a long-haired, bearded man at the door holding a cat by its tail, he threw it in, thanked me for agreeing to look after it and left smiling. I quickly shut the door not to let any of the cats escape.
Lotta told me a bee had managed to get in and we had to get it, so it wouldn't sting the baby. The harder we tried, the harder we failed and then we couldn't find it anymore. There were more and more mosquitoes on the walls though, and I kept killing them. The more I killed, the more the next one started to resemble a small parrot-like bird. They kept getting bigger and bigger with distinctive beaks. Then they started having colors. The bee had disappeared for good, which worried me, and then I couldn't find Lotta either.
There were three colorful parrots on a dresser. I approached them cautiously to smack them to death with the newspaper I had used to whack the smaller bird-looking insects earlier. They didn't move, so I kept hitting them to make sure they were dead. Since I couldn't be sure, I used the rolled up newspaper to puncture one's eyes. For some reason I thought the proper way to deal with my unexplicable rage towards the bird creatures was to bite one's head off. I was worried I'd get some sort of poisoning or fatal disease from the dead thing's head in my mouth though, so I spat it in a sink in the kitchen of the house and kept washing my mouth with water only to find there was more and more bird flesh and feathers stuck in my throat that I had to get out. I thought I was going to throw up.
Somehow I was more fascinated by the elephant that could tie its own shoelaces and had six feet; while it wore high heels on three feet and slippers on the other three, I watched it tie them neatly with its trunk and found it amusing. The lady who owned it walked out of the living room that had turned into the outdoors and continued along the road into the jungle, while I was left with a smaller elephant of my own. Quickly I tried to find my elephant shoes as well in order to follow, but they had already disappeared and I felt helpless.
I was back in the living room again with the baby playing around and he looked much like my nephew. He was so tiny he could be dressed in doll clothes and that's what he agreed to wear, so we could go outside. I kept going along with it, even though it felt unpleasant. The door to the balcony was open and there were dozens and dozens of cats that all wanted to play with me; I wanted them to leave me alone. I could feel them on my legs and their claws scratching me. The doorbell rang and I asked Lotta to get it, but she didn't want to help me out. There was a long-haired, bearded man at the door holding a cat by its tail, he threw it in, thanked me for agreeing to look after it and left smiling. I quickly shut the door not to let any of the cats escape.
Lotta told me a bee had managed to get in and we had to get it, so it wouldn't sting the baby. The harder we tried, the harder we failed and then we couldn't find it anymore. There were more and more mosquitoes on the walls though, and I kept killing them. The more I killed, the more the next one started to resemble a small parrot-like bird. They kept getting bigger and bigger with distinctive beaks. Then they started having colors. The bee had disappeared for good, which worried me, and then I couldn't find Lotta either.
There were three colorful parrots on a dresser. I approached them cautiously to smack them to death with the newspaper I had used to whack the smaller bird-looking insects earlier. They didn't move, so I kept hitting them to make sure they were dead. Since I couldn't be sure, I used the rolled up newspaper to puncture one's eyes. For some reason I thought the proper way to deal with my unexplicable rage towards the bird creatures was to bite one's head off. I was worried I'd get some sort of poisoning or fatal disease from the dead thing's head in my mouth though, so I spat it in a sink in the kitchen of the house and kept washing my mouth with water only to find there was more and more bird flesh and feathers stuck in my throat that I had to get out. I thought I was going to throw up.
Friday, January 15, 2010
What a huge waste of time
I say so much retarded and unrequired shit and then think about it afterwards and wish I could unsay it.
Or maybe replace all the meaningless crap with something that actually matters; whatever that's supposed to mean in a given context.
Or maybe replace all the meaningless crap with something that actually matters; whatever that's supposed to mean in a given context.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)