my precious time
2004-06-05 ~ 12:55 a.m.

no, the animal cannot be a role model. or shouldn't. could definitely be something you can look up to and respect...but not by the definition of role model that i understand.

learned judgement. ethics. morals.

you have to be more than just "sound" to be a role model i hope.

or maybe you do just have to win a lot of money and do your job well to be a role model. in that case... someone should build a robot with no ai who can win the lottery and then we can all bow down before it and call it god.

somewhere in between emer moving and my major depression and the cult church and the breaking of the bra and the role model qualities of a horse and the baring of the fangs by the vietnamese-american woman...

well, another day is done.

it is funny. well, not funny haha...but more funny...well, not at all funny.

i do one thing really well. and i don;t ever need help. i get it quite a bit, but i never need it.

i was thinking about being punished as a kid the other day. i was never really punished. maybe because i never really did anything bad. but more likely it was because my parents never had to punish me.

i beat the shit out of myself.

noone ever has to help. there is absolutely nothing you can say or do or show or explain to me that will make me feel anymore guilty or worthless than i already do. and i would ask for you to please always know that and remember it...but it is too much to ask. it always is. everything always is.

i do think of suicide, often. if i turn up dead, i suggest there be a line-up, as i am not planning on being cowardly enough to actually off myself.

but when i do think of suicide...when i think of my death in general...

i imagine it long. painful. excruciating. and it could be that i just need to quit smoking and then i will be hit by a bus and die quickly...

but no, i hope i would lay there on the sidewalk for a while, conscious and miserable. little blood bubbles popping out of the foam on my lips.

i contracted my safety, as part of my therapy...many times. every time i do, i give them my right...my ability to kill myself quickly. yet even still...i try to kill myself slowly. and i do.

and the real bitch of it? i know it's wrong. and i don't want to feel that way. i want to embrace life and be worthy. but i can't.

bent hnau.

broken. broken little human.

poisons everything.

just look around. i am a walking catastrophe.

but all of this? i have to stop. this is the smallest piece i am willing to show here, even with no one reading it.

or maybe...how do i start the day?

there is constant conversation in my head. running commentaries on everything. debates. it starts in the morning with the first few thoughts...

fucking worthless shit, whining needy little bitch. just fucking do it already. do something. i can't. of course you can't, you stupid bitch. you are worthless. you will never do it. you will never do anything. you were never meant to be here. you should be dead. why are you here? you have nothing to offer. you are nothing.

that is how my mind gears up most mornings. i can't stop it. i never have been able to. and over time, it became something i used...to get my sorry ass out of bed.

but somewhere before time, or in the land that time lost or even in the future...something happened....

and i relied on my ability to torture myself so that no one else could hurt me. and i mean it when i say i know nothing of hurt. i hardly ever just barely in vivid color remember being hurt.

it was a great thought, but it ends up with me getting fucked twice.

my parents never grounded me because i grounded myself. and however heavy i might judge someone else...i judge myself twice as hard. i definitely heard that one in church.

yes, i am the fucking little whiny needy cunt bitch spilling tears and poison all over everything.

now...can i say something nice about myself?

i could think of a few things...like how i love my animals or my friends...

but ultimately, my own mind rebels and won't let me have anything good. can't keep it. not yours. you did not deserve it. weren't a good little girl. you deserve bad. bad things only happen to bad little girls...well fuck you, i am not a little girl....oh, yes you are. you just think you are grown up, but you aren;t. you are trapped. always. eternally trapped. in your own hell. you built it, now live in it.

and don't you know that i would rather die than live this way? can you see why?

which brings me to...the external locus of control...and i know precisely why i scored so off.

do you think...do you possibly think...

that maybe, as a kid, growing up...and then as an adult...

that i was never encouraged at home. never told that i was loved or special...or anything but the opposite. that i don't still hear voices out of another time telling me how worthless i am. i did not teach this skill to myself. i learned it...from the people who took care of me. not that any of that even matters when your adolescence is spent on your elbows trying to survive the swamp of grief and death.

and i can justify myself all day long...but i don;t even have to. ultimately...however it started...it became biolgical. that is how it works. i know. i know. i know. i do.

but ultimately...i need an environment that is nurturing and supportive and does constantly give my ego something more substantial than profanities or an off-handed compliment.

i need that. i know it. and i hate myself even more for it. because i don;t deserve it.

all of you do. and i want you to have it, and i might seem to begrudge you for it...but really, i am only wondering what i did that was so wrong that it all ended up this way.

and beating the shit out of myself...like a desperate and cruel farmer beats a worn plow mule.

just get me up and use me for another furrough...and then shoot me.

yeah, i think that covers it for now.

so...that used about 40 minutes of my precious time. now what to do?

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