Where do I begin? I've been trying to "start" (and finish) this post for three days now. Between work, sleep, and Elliot, I hardly ever have any time. So instead of writing one huge never-ending post like I had originally planned, I think I'm going to post a little bit every day (as much as I can). Before there was livejournal, before there was a computer in every home, I kept a journal on pieces of notebook paper. I wrote everything I felt on these papers. My thoughts, my wild dreams, my fears, my desires, my anxieties, my anger, my hatred, my everything. It was me, the whole of me, written down in black or blue ink on white notebook paper. I would write out my depression in words and my tears would often wet the paper. Later, I would take these papers out into the backyard and light them on fire. I would watch the flames turn the paper to ashes. I saw myself in these pages. It was me being burned. I felt the heat on my skin and inside myself. I imagined myself standing out there, burning the way the papers did. Slowly and painfully. Turning to ash and blowing away with the breeze. I watched as my fingers disappeared, the fire spreading up my arm. I was made of paper, not flesh. I had writing on me. it was my thoughts and feelings in black ink on my white skin. It was me being burned. In the moments before the burning, I would skim through the things I had written, the other me. Not the me who wrote these things. The me who hated that other me. The me who was full of anger and disgust. The me who didn't believe in any other emotion besides anger. The me who wanted to punch the other me for being such a cry baby. This angry part of me couldn't stand to let that other part of me live. So it burned the papers I had written on. It burned me. And later, I would start over. Writing new pages on fresh paper, never thinking about the later on when I would be once again outside burning. Always thinking it would be different. But I always ended up burning. Everyone of my childhood journals has been burned. I feel it is better that way. But now I have journal entries dating back to my 18th year which is pretty far back. And I have livejournal to thank for that. Something I cannot burn. Something that will always be there. Not even the anger and self-loathing can destroy what is written here. And so, I will start anew without burning the old. I will remember the past and move forward. I will write a little bit at a time, the story of me. The real and true me. I'm turning this journal into my memoirs. Maybe by the end of the year, I'll have enough material and enough money to hire someone to make something out of all these words. Maybe. But this now is just a beginning. A beginning of a story. The story of m.e. But this post is only the introduction. The real start will come later, in my next post. Because I've been awake since 10pm last night, worked from 11pm until 8am, went out for a few hours with Jaje and Elliot, and it's now almost 4:30pm. It's been too many hours since I've slept. I just got my xanax and tramadol refilled and I took one of each. Luckily, I'm not working tonight. But I want to get some sleep because I'm feeling a little loopy. I want to post this because it's been sitting on my computer for a few days. How many, I'm not sure. It's hard for me to keep track of days anymore. But I want to add that I have not signed into or even considered signing into Facebook since my last journal post. And I don't plan on doing so anytime soon. I am happy to be free of the shackles of facebook and to be back to the freedom of livejournal. I also got a temporary free paid account which is cool and once that runs out, I will pay for my account again. Thank you to all my dear readers. You are the best. Goodnight and Good day to you all.
I leave you with my song lyric of the day. From one of my favorite bands, They Might Be Giants. I know that posting song lyrics is not very much liked by people (we tend to think that people can't think for themselves and so use others words to describe how they feel). I once thought the same thing. Now I realize that there are people who say what I want to say much better than I can possibly say it. So I will continue to post song lyrics on occasion. If you don't like it, too bad. Don't read it. And here it is.
I know, I know, I said that I would quit. All right, I promise, no more after this. You don't know how I've tried. To forget what it was like.
I'll never forget. I wish I could. But I never will. That's all for now, dear readers. More to come. Ciao.