Well, let's see. If today is technically Friday than that means it's the fifth day I've been without sleep. I have done nothing but think, or write, or think some more, and I absofuckinglutely hate every single thought inside my head. I am not a good thinker. It's Christmas, and my whole extended family was over, and all of them got the impression that I was down. No! You think?! Fucking hate Christmas. Mostly because of this year.
Good notes? Sure, there are a few. My cousin Caleb and I played Mario Kart Wii for thirty-two races in a row, just so we could win a stupid fucking virtual trophy. Hooray. It was pretty fun while we were losing, but then we figured out how to use ourselves better as a team and dominated. Winning everything made it lose its luster. The snow was awesome. Nothing to take my mind off shit than a no holds-barred snowball fight. We threw one snowball back and forth twenty-five times without breaking it. And then the basketball. Oh, how I missed frozen iceketball. Final score, three to two. Brutal, brutal sports. I love being cold.
It was actually kind of nice, to feel physically numb everywhere. I love how my body reacts to the cold weather. Blood vessels constrict, heart rate slows down as I relax, headache subsides (minorly), and I can not think for a while. The good feeling of emptiness, literal icy cold, utter helplessness, of fear of succumbing to the weather, I like it. Now if I could get my nonphysical self to become and then stay numb I would be fine. Detachment is my virtue. More like detachment is what hurts me, but it is the only way I survive.
I still hate myself. I cannot sleep. Even when I'm thinking of nothing, I'm still thinking of it. My head wants to believe better will come, but my heart is through. I am giving up, again. Nothing will ever be golden for long. Nothing ever ends well, otherwise it wouldn't end. Hopefully, this is not the end. Hopefully, it is a beginning. A beginning of what, I don't know. I was reminded of backpacking today. Complete loneliness. The awe of being totally alone and at the mercy of nature. The beauty that only I can appreciate, because I was the one that carried my hundred pound pack the miles and miles into the terrible isolation to witness it. I am the only one to have ever seen it as I did. Pictures truly don't do justice. The panic when something tiny goes wrong and could potentially mean a long and painful death makes you feel alive. The feeling of being stranded, in the unknown. It's almost like thinking, ironically, except without being in my head. My head is focused solely on one thing out there; living five more minutes. Cody, Nick, and I are going to go backpacking. Soon. Maybe Caleb and / or Scott would come. I really think I'd prefer a solo, though. To be completely shut off. I do miss backpacking.
I am giving up again. I am sick of trying, and of being destroyed. I don't deny I want the warmth, but it's not fucking happening. I won't let it ever get so close again. I need to relax. I need to exist. Do I exist?
"To be truly cold was to doubt whether you would ever feel warm."
Good notes? Sure, there are a few. My cousin Caleb and I played Mario Kart Wii for thirty-two races in a row, just so we could win a stupid fucking virtual trophy. Hooray. It was pretty fun while we were losing, but then we figured out how to use ourselves better as a team and dominated. Winning everything made it lose its luster. The snow was awesome. Nothing to take my mind off shit than a no holds-barred snowball fight. We threw one snowball back and forth twenty-five times without breaking it. And then the basketball. Oh, how I missed frozen iceketball. Final score, three to two. Brutal, brutal sports. I love being cold.
It was actually kind of nice, to feel physically numb everywhere. I love how my body reacts to the cold weather. Blood vessels constrict, heart rate slows down as I relax, headache subsides (minorly), and I can not think for a while. The good feeling of emptiness, literal icy cold, utter helplessness, of fear of succumbing to the weather, I like it. Now if I could get my nonphysical self to become and then stay numb I would be fine. Detachment is my virtue. More like detachment is what hurts me, but it is the only way I survive.
I still hate myself. I cannot sleep. Even when I'm thinking of nothing, I'm still thinking of it. My head wants to believe better will come, but my heart is through. I am giving up, again. Nothing will ever be golden for long. Nothing ever ends well, otherwise it wouldn't end. Hopefully, this is not the end. Hopefully, it is a beginning. A beginning of what, I don't know. I was reminded of backpacking today. Complete loneliness. The awe of being totally alone and at the mercy of nature. The beauty that only I can appreciate, because I was the one that carried my hundred pound pack the miles and miles into the terrible isolation to witness it. I am the only one to have ever seen it as I did. Pictures truly don't do justice. The panic when something tiny goes wrong and could potentially mean a long and painful death makes you feel alive. The feeling of being stranded, in the unknown. It's almost like thinking, ironically, except without being in my head. My head is focused solely on one thing out there; living five more minutes. Cody, Nick, and I are going to go backpacking. Soon. Maybe Caleb and / or Scott would come. I really think I'd prefer a solo, though. To be completely shut off. I do miss backpacking.
I am giving up again. I am sick of trying, and of being destroyed. I don't deny I want the warmth, but it's not fucking happening. I won't let it ever get so close again. I need to relax. I need to exist. Do I exist?
"To be truly cold was to doubt whether you would ever feel warm."
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