Thursday May 26, 2011 3:02 p.m.

Do you ever notice that our dreams seem to be more of a reality than when we are awake? I have this thing...well I don't know that it's a thing. But what happens for me is I don't remember anything about sleeping unless it is a bad dream. I don't remember dreaming good things. Usually I just sleep, or do I? I don't have any recollection of what happens from the time I close my eyes until the time I open them. I don't know what happens. I could be in a different place and not know it. I could be doing anything and not know it. Sleeping to me is a scary thing. The only time I know for sure I'm safe is when I can remember a dream, which for me are only the bad ones. So oddly, bad things bring me a sense of safety. That is the most twisted thing I've ever realized about myself. When I wake up from what I know is really sleeping, I panic. I'm tortured with the thoughts of what just happened in my dreams. There was one night a few months ago that I woke up and I was so upset I was driven to making a plan just in case what had happened in my dream were to really happen. Is that weird? I literally had to think about everything that would be wrong if it were to happen and I needed to have a plan to fix it. Then I'm bringing my dreams into my life and making my life my dreams, hens making my dreams more of a reality than my own life. I just want to sleep all the time too, which is weird because the idea scares me, and I only remember bad things from it. Am I drawn into fear? Do I make fear the centre point in my life? Are we all drawn to fear? It's the only way we can feel alive...ok maybe not the only way...but definitely one of the biggest ways. Think about it...we all crave to feel, feel something, or else we would go insane. Fear dominates all other feelings. Even the strongest of feelings can be thwarted by just one inkling of fear. Families are broken, friendships are crushed, death triumphs....and all things have a connection to fear. Is fear then, the author of our souls? Does anyone else wonder about these things.

Wednesday May 25, 2011 3:38 p.m.

I got out of bed today. And not just to pee either...I really got up. I did my hair did my make up and put on what appears to be a decent outfit. Says a lot since the day before yesterday I stayed in bed almost all day. I just had a down day. Some mindlessly tapped their knuckles on my wood door that stood between me and the world. And even though I ignored their attempt to talk, they waltzed in anyway. It's as though people around me feed off of prying. I just want to be left alone is that so hard to understand. I mean there are some like Robin just enter into my dark room of nothing and just sit next to me. Robin doesn't pry, nor do they even ask. It's these kind of people that can exist. But there are some who just pry and ask and poke and bug and annoy...and the second they open their mouth even before one sound escapes their teeth, I hate them. I don't want to hear any pitch in your voice right now. Just let me lay in my bed and stare off into space. I couldn't really tell you what runs through my mind however, because it's kind of like a bad dream. You know the ones I'm talking about I'm sure. It's the ones where you are running and running and running and you know you're scared and running from something but you are going so fast you can't even see or make sense of anything you're going past. Thats my mind, those are my thoughts. My mind races and races but I don't know what my thoughts are. I can't stop time, I can't slow it down....I just don't know. Which leads me to my next point of conversation. When you ask me whats wrong and I say I don't know...I really don't. If I knew then I would tell you or say I don't want to talk about it. I don't keep skeletons. I try my best to be honest with everyone. Or do I?


I feel like I'm pretty honest with other people...but to myself, am I honest? Is anyone honest with their self? Or are we all just fooling ourselves. Do we deny how we honestly feel because we feel like it wouldn't make sense to anyone else? Or do we hide who we really are just because we don't feel we will be accepted. Do we look, and feel, and act an entirely different way on the outside than we do on the inside?


Another thing, do we set such high goals for ourselves that when we are taking forever to get there we just hate that we aren't there. Do I hate myself for not being who I always told myself, and others, I would be. Am I so caught up with not letting other people down that I continuously let myself down and let other people let me down? I think so.

Saturday May 21, 2011 5:43 p.m.

It's crazy to me how much or how little can be said in one rotation of the red needle on a clock. I walked into the room. A circle of chairs were before me and I had a choice to make on which one I would place the comfort of my secrets into. I took a seat next to the only other person in the room. I casually extended a "Hey!" I got no response. The clock ticked on...the two counsellors stride across the room and take their own places as well. We sat in silence waiting for others to come to our circle in which we would break through walls, confess our ghosts. No one came. So there were four. The lady counsellor extended an invitation for the other person to start the ball of confessions rolling. One sentence summed it all up for them..."I don't like people." I sit staring at the clock while I too confess what bothers my soul. I stare blankly and fidget a tad, I suppose in nervous efforts to open myself up to strangers. I've been there before...I've opened up to strangers. I've let them in and allowed myself to love and be loved. It's never ended well. Why did I feel like this would be any different? They are still people. Flesh and blood just as every other. I've never quite figured out if everyone else has a heart or if it's just me. Not just any heart like the paper ones people usually sew on the surface. Real hearts that pulse with feeling and emotion. I have always felt and continue to feel alone in that regard. I'm the only one who feels things. And as much as I try to not feel and push the emotions aside and power through anything and everything I always come back to my heart. It's comfortable for me to feel. Also I guess I've become comfortable with being betrayed, and disappointed. Which leads me to my next trail of thoughts...do I look for hurt? Have I become so obsessed with feeling and the hurt that comes from that, that I just jump to feeling the hurting? I hear that sometimes it's one way to know we're alive.


"How do you feel about what was just said? How does that effect you?" These are questions that in that moment I didn't honestly care about. I felt nothing. I understood and was hearing what was being said but I felt nothing. And for the first time in possibly my entire life I felt nothing. I formed no bond, no bond to a person, no bond to any words. I felt the same as I did when I walked into the room. What had been said didn't effect me. It just gave me understanding. Some sort of reason.

Thursday May 19, 2011 3:34 a.m.

I had my first counselling appointment yesterday. I started off speaking to the head of the counselling department at the school. We talked for a while and he suggested that maybe group counselling was the best for me. I said I am open to all suggestions. With group counselling each participant goes for a screening meeting with one of the counsellors. I met with a counsellor who I really liked. He seemed to take the time to really listen and digest what I was saying. He offered some suggestions. It became quite apparent that the way I form relationships with the people in my life may stem from the way I attached to my father when I was young. Because there were issues that stood in the way of my Father and I having any kind of relationship, there will continue to be "issues" it seems that get in the way of having any kind of relationships with anyone. My counsellor recommended that I read a book titled "Attachments" the book is basically a self help book that helps those who long for closeness and comfort in relationships but for whatever reason can't find it due to attachment issues with a parent. I'll be placing an order for the book hopefully tomorrow and I have my first group counselling session tomorrow morning.

Monday May 9, 2011 12:12 a.m.

One can of a green monster can change a lot. Today I drank just one monster in the span of maybe two hours and my day was actually a fairly positive one. I laughed I communicated. I work on homework. Yet I also still go crazy inside. I found a pretty decent way of describing how I feel. It's like someone has put me in a dark pit and said you wont be in here forever but you wont know how long you'll be in here. It's dark, empty and no way to talk to people. I'm isolated and scared. I know that the Lord is there and there is a way for me to feel better. But to me thats like knowing there is a small light in that dark pit. I can turn it on all I want and be able to see where I am...but I feel like it doesn't help. I'm still trapped in a pit. It's as though I'm claustrophobic in my own life. I am scared, trapped, and can't breathe and can't get out. My mom agrees with Batman that I may need to start being treated with anti-anxiety meds.

Sunday May 8, 2011 4:37 a.m.

Over the last three hours I have gone from thinking that everyone else was my problem to realizing that I may in fact be out to get myself. I feel like I've gone crazy. I believe I have actually. My insanity has won me over this time I'm sure of it. I have, as long as I can remember, had these phases in my life where I start feeling alone and unloved and then I isolate myself from EVERYONE. (Possibly in a way to see if I'm right.) Then once I've isolated myself from everyone I think about everything possible and get very depressed, sad, or angry. Then I feel completely and hopelessly stuck. Not the kind of stuck like a shoe in gum, more like a little rodent sinking in quick sand. I feel like my mind takes me down fast. It is in the phases, in particular the part when I'm stuck, that I know what I need to do to feel better but I just don't want to do it. It's like I enjoy misery. Happy things have never helped me to feel better. It's as though pain and anger keep me numb. I am going to make a call on Monday to go see someone. I think that I need to walk through my brain and figure out exactly whats happening. Not many people have been subjected to my brain, and my thoughts. I really do a lot more thinking and as a result become crazy on the inside. The past week or so I have just been making myself sick over it all. I just feel so off, so misguided, and so unconnected. I feel like nothing makes sense.