Existence is futile, you've gotta live.

It's been a long time. A very, very long time. I think I deserved it, so fuck what you say. Ten years, I've fought this war, for ten long years. That's more than half of my life. That's the bulk of what I can remember of my past. That's basically who I am. So to finally have the strength to say "I feel good, I'm alive," to finally mean it and shout it out to the sun, well, that feels fucking good. I don't know if you've felt it, I don't know if you even know what I'm talking about. But hey, that's not why you're here. You're here to read about me. Me and me alone. Lemme soak up all that attention. Maybe something you read here will inspire or change you, or just depress the living fuck out of you. Ultimately, it's whatever you choose to make of it, I'm not your influence. You are your influence.

It's all been kind of a sudden. I just got to sitting around a basement after a late night stroll (bloody cold out there), talking with an old friend and a new face. And I don't know, I just kind of talked. A lot. Pretty sure I was going on for like 3, maybe 4 hours? Who knows, who cares. I let a lot go that night. A lot, so much I'm not even going to repeat it all here or really go into much more than the details. I'll say what I choose though, so this bit may be proven wrong later.

Family, sluttiness, drugs, relationships, stress, school, all of the above and so much more were such overarching parts of the evening that they all need a little elaboration. Pick and choose what you want to read, some you may not want to.

Family
Obviously, my family played a major role in my development - I kind of live and have lived with them for this so far. Rather important to mention. I'll be open and honest, and hopefully mature about this. While my family played a rather big role in being there, they were never THERE, if you get my meaning. I could never turn to them for help, or support, or questions, or answers. They kind of just ... existed, I'm not sure on the details, it's not hugely important to me though. I could never turn to them, which lead to a lot of my inability to perform the most basic functions required to properly integrate with society, and ultimately fit in. I can't blame them, though. It's not their fault they never knew how to parent. I'm not sure if having better parents would have made things better or not, but who can really say. I was raised how I was raised, no two ways about it.

Sluttiness
I'm not the town bicycle, I haven't slept with everyone and everything around me, but I've done it enough and for immoral enough reasons. I've laid my body out there, both physically and digitally, more times and for more people than I care to count or remember. I can't count my fucks, I can't count my pictures or videos. I'll leave it at that. Do I regret it? Some of it. It's just part of who I am.

Drugs
I've had my share, though they were definitely a relatively minor role in the whole situation.

Relationships
I've had some amazing ones and I've had some shit ones. I've had my heart stomped on and shattered, I've had it glorified and patched up, I've been cheated on, I've cheated. It's all a series of decisions and circumstances I ultimately made or had a choice in, it's just a part of my past. At my current point in life, I'm not seeking, but I won't pass up a good apple if it comes my way eh?

Stress/school
Combined! Because I can. Fuck off. I'm not in school, just drowning in debt from it. I'm not really stressed about much, I can handle what's thrown at me for now. We'll see where life goes.

Yeah, back to the main shit, FINALLY.

Okay, done rambling about stupid things no one really cares about, yeah? I'm really proud of myself. Even if I had a little help, a nudging out the front door if you will, I managed to talk about a lot of what is constantly plauging my mind, and in the process, let it go. The past isn't killing me as much as it was, it's managable again, I'm really doing a lot better than I was. I finally won a battle. Now it's a long uphill fight to win the war. But the war's never over, so I'll take battles one at a time, let's do this shit.

"You can't wait for the sun to rise, you'll never know until you try, we make mistakes and learn in time, we all grow old, we live we die." - Don't Wait by Hit The Lights

Nightmare No. 2

I didn't post Nightmare No. 1 because all I remember is the very last bit, in which I was pinned against a wall when some long-haired aggressive kid came up and explained all my flaws and what I do to hide them (I really don't recall what he said, all I know is it was really true) before punching my skull in. Either way, that's that.

A quick explanation of why I'm going to start recording these is that for the past few nights, I've gone to bed, slept for a few hours, woken up, been unable to stay awake, falling back asleep, having a nightmare, and waking up exactly two hours later. I'm trying to figure out why, and I'm really bored so.

Time for No. 2.

I don't really remember how it started, but either way I was with my mother and we went to this weird-ass mansion-cottage thing that I really can't explain. Anyways, we met with this dean guy and it was some rehabilitation camp thing. All the staff was great, it looked nice, and apparently I needed to be there. So whaddaya know, I'm stuck in my head's version of Auschwitz, for lack of a better example (Insensitivity ftw). First day there, I get the lovely pleasure of using a push broom to sweep a hall rug - for 8 hours. After that, I'm escorted to the cafeteria of sorts and given my first and only meal of the day. I don't remember what I ate, but I was with a bunch of faceless people. Needless to say, this little group became my "team" of sorts - we plotted, as best we could, how to escape this obvious prison. No one ever left.

Well. I don't really remember the sleeping conditions but I know they were awful. That much is readily apparent by now I hope. Day 2, something happened. There are a lot of well-armed guards in this place, and almost every one of them went to the tree-lined corridor that was the vehicular entrance to this place, because something was going on (it's a really remote area). I remember we were eating our meal after some grueling manual labour nonsense that I also can't remember, when there was some police inspection thing. We all acted really natural and happy (probably because we knew we'd die if we didn't, or so I guess) while they talked with the dean and some other people and walked around the beautiful campus. Well, needless to say, they all left and we didn't. It's a nightmare, remember?

I remember the food being really awful, most of it impossible to eat for a newcomer. The meal staff was all really happy and friendly, and a massive mess hall full of hundreds of teens was a welcome familiar site, nevermind the fact we had 10 minutes to eat whatever we could for the day (we could go back for seconds and thirds, provided we had enough time.) At the end of the 10 minutes, we had to immediately dump anything we had (and spit out anything in our mouth) into the nearest trash bin.I remember I'd been late to the meal, and it was shorter due to the inspection and all that jazz so I had like 30 seconds ro run to the counter, pile on food, grab a blue Powerade (don't ask) and scarf down what I could. Well, I lost my ability to eat (somehow), and only downed a tiny bit before chucking it.

I want to say this is Day 3, but I don't remember anything between the inspection and this next part, but it felt like Day 3. Anyways, there was this obstacle course thing and we had free time (I don't get it either) and a few of us went through this tricky maze to a really secluded area with a good outlook of anyone entering/exiting but far enough away to not be heard by unwanted ears. Well, I had my phone, somehow it still had life. Everyone had their phone's, but no one had a charger, so once it was dead people just forgot they existed. Well, no one called or texted (I guess I'd kept it off to save it for emergencies) but for some odd reason I was incapable of calling anyone (full bars and all that jazz, I just couldn't operate it). No one else was willing to, because anyone caught using a phone was killed apparently. Well, after about five minutes of fucking around with the phone, the lookout spotted a guard (who was looking for us). So I quickly disabled and hid my phone, and we all came down and headed our separate ways (I guess it was back-to-work time?) without seeming suspicious.

Well, another hole, but still Day 3, I entered this forge/mine thing. Anyways, there was this chick all the way up at the furnace part (it was located high on a rock slope, don't ask) and a fat kid down on the ground with me. She was preparing a sword, I don't remember what he was doing. She asked if I wanted to help fight, and me being who I am readily agreed. So I grabbed a ... flimsy sword? I don't know, but it was wobbly and fake. Anyways, she laughed, and then something happened to the door and we were locked inside (but not really, will explain later). Now, here's the weird part - there were what I'll refer to as Dean Loyalists, people that did a fantastic job at whatever slave labour we were told to do and instead of fighting or submitting to the system, joined it (for those curious, very few were still fighting, and most everyone was looking for a way out through death or simply giving in to fate).

Anyway, like 5 or so loyalists tried to enter, and the chick shouted "We know, the door is jammed, we're trying to open it" when in reality we were readying out weaponry. Myself, I snapped part of the sword off, sharpened it, and gave it a bigger handle with something lying around. I'm pretty sure it was part of an axe that was cast off and useless, but either way I cut my hands and arms a lot while performing this operation. Around the time I got it assembled and ready, the loyalists - there was this big one - knocked down the door and came in, weapons ready. Obviously, they knew we were making our own. We didn't suffer a casuality, but took all 5 of them down - I axed the big guy to death, and I don't know what else happened. The chick took a pretty bad hit and the fat guy was exhausted, but we all lived.

So you remember that thing I said about being locked inside but not really? The back part of the forge lead into part of the mansion and a hallway. I headed back that way to check for anyone flanking, and there was a big burly security card on his way down with a powerdrill. He didn't notice me, so I bolted back the other way, shouted at the two to get out of there, and fled - every man for himself. I heard their screams as he drilled out their brains. Savage.

Pretty sure this is the last part, but it was our daily meal time again, so I went to the mess hall but I wasn't going to submit anymore, so I caused a ruccus (to much applause) and jumped on this long-haired waiter guy, before going back in time, Prince of Persia style, and grabbing a knife instead. I stabbed him in the throat when I jumped on him, but it became apparent he was a good guy. So with a butter knife clean through his throat, he gently removed me from him, took out the knife, and smiled. So I apologized for trying to kill him, and he explained that it was "no problem, and my boyfriend is the doctor here." I recall plotting to get him on the resistance side, but that's about the end of the dream.

Good read.

"I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had."  - Tears for Fears - Mad World

I don't really think I'll ever understand

In relation to one of my more recent blog posts, regarding things I'm ... what, uncomfortable hearing? How do I explain something that feels like jealousy and regret and worry and nervousness and a whole host of other feelings?

Why does it make me feel the way I feel? I'm a terribly fucked up person, let's agree to that. Got it? Good. Let's progress, even though I never move forward. All I want is an explanation, something I'll likely never get. It bugs me so much that I simply cannot accept certain things sometimes. Weird stuff.

That's all for today. I just wanna know why.

"Leave it up to me, just leave it up to me. If you leave it up to me, I'll fuck it up, just like I always do." Senses Fail - Ghost Town

Senses Fail - Lifeboats

All lyrics are ©2010 Senses Fail

I just want to feel alive, and love myself from the in and the outside. 

'Cause every time that I start to feel whole, I knock myself on the ground because it's all that I've known.

Just like the streets burn a hole through your shoe, my soul has been worn out too.

I'm 25 and I still don't fit in, directionless, like a blind main painting.

[Chorus]

Mother I'm so sorry, I can't go on like this, the lifeboats are leaving with or without me.

What's the point of falling in love if I don't love myself? 

What's the point of being alive if all I want is out?

So I thought that it only feels right, to make the decisions that endanger my life.

Late late at night under black and blue moons, I question the reasons that I self-abuse.

I'm so pathetic, it makes me sick. I'm a fingerless pianist.
I see reflections, I clench my fists. I'm a violin without the strings.

[Chorus]

There is no love, there's only this: just lust and lies and selfishness.

A black hole where the sun once was. I'm never falling back in love,

'cause it has never been enough.

Ever since I've been a young boy I was alone. Now that I've become a man, the feeling's grown.

Through the therapy and through the pills, I can't let go. But what about the fucking fact:

I'm still alone?!

What do you do when you've got nothing left? Give up, give up! And hope for the best.

I fell into the ocean, I and I feel sick, waiting on a nameless rescue ship.

What do you do when you've got nothing left? Give up, give up! And hope for the best.

I fell into the ocean, I and I feel sick, waiting on a nameless rescue ship.

[Chorus]

Oh, just a correction.

Terin's not dead. Long story. I was going to write something bigger here but honestly I can't remember, so I guess I'll just randomly babble until I get too bored to keep typing.

So, here goes nothing. I'm bored. Work is boring, really boring. It used to be bearable, now it's not. I'm bored of like all my video games (impossible!) and there is nothing else I really want to play (might try Fallout: New Vegas when it comes out, but who fucking cares). I'm slowly getting back into reading but nyeh, I don't really know of any books that are in my taste that I don't have or haven't read. Music, I rarely get a chance to listen to it anymore. I've got days of music I've never even heard sitting on my hard drive. I'm procrastinating obscenely into getting back into school. I'm painfully broke. I'm agitated beyond all reasonable levels. Everything sets me off. I'm virtually friendless. WHINE WHINE WHINE.

/rant

What to write, what to write...

It would be a serious understatement to say I haven't been thinking about writing for hours. For some odd reason, today has just been one of those days, where you just need to jot down what's going through your head and cross your fingers no one overreacts (again). My one bane of writing is every single time it gets serious, someone freaks. And I am so, so tired of people overreacting to my over-exaggerations. With that said, I believe it's time to get into some sticky shit.

I miss a lot of people. Whether dead or alive, a significant number of people have left my life, generally through my own doing, yet I'm not willing to take the first step and get them back. I want to, but at the same time I don't. There's a hole in my life, something I can fill with whatever I want instead of the obligations of a stressful friendship that had its years years ago, y'know? I also don't really know how to reach out to them... we can make plans, but things fall apart and never go through. Maybe my old friends are just that; old. But there's no one new to replace them, and I'm left alone, wishing I could go back and change things. I've always been wishing for change, I'm just so bad at bringing it.

There's also something I really need to get off of my chest. It's become increasingly apparent to me that I hate when people tell stories. Well, I guess I really should clarify. I cannot stand when those I truly care about talk about certain things. I just get this awful pit in my chest, I feel shaky and sick, and I have to resist every urge to leap off the nearest tall object. I hate when those I care about tell stories about their friends, and the great times they had, and I'm jealous because all my stories are as outdated as my wardrobe, and they've got friends they can tell stories about and I only have the friends I'm with to tell stories about. I'm going to assume you can imagine why I can't tell stories to these people, seeing as all my stories happen with them. Guess I just explained it anyways. Stories of friends aren't all that bother me. There are two others. Let's go in order.

First off, I absolutely cannot stand hearing drug-use stories from those I care about. A vast majority of the people that tell them to me I really don't give a fuck about, but those that do matter give me that same awful feeling at the mention of their trips or highs or drunks or whatever. Unlike friends, I'm not jealous. Whether or not I've done the particular chemical, doesn't change a thing. I've always felt this uncomfortable around the subject, but lately it just seems to be amplified. I've expressed my feelings to those that tell me such stories, but it doesn't stop me from thinking and reliving. I hate the moments and imaginations of the person doing such an act, even though I have no problem with it. If it's not jealousy, what is it? I've described it as 'worry' before but how the fuck can you worry about something that happened months, if not years, ago? It shouldn't bother me as much as it does, I just can't figure it out, and no one has shed the light for me. I wish I could erase the memories that have been told to me, it really eats me up.

The next one; sex. I'm not exactly verbal about this one. Not that sex is an uncomfortable topic for me - far from it, actually. I just ... I can't bear to imagine those I have with someone else in that regard, y'know? Like, I don't want to go to bed with the image of some random person giving you a hand-job or fucking you in the back of their car or whatever. Take a blender to my insides and say you did it while on ecstasy, that'll do the trick. Now, this might be jealousy again, but how can I be jealous of them when I've got you now? I just don't like my overactive imagination. It suited me well as a kid, what with Lego's and the like, but it just causes me too many problems these days. Add my shoddy hearing to that and I can spawn some wild-ass stories.

Lately, I've just been getting more and more panicked. I've got a huge school loan debt, I need to get back into school, I should probably find a therapist, I need to call my old roommate, I need to visit Bellingham, I need to figure my life out, I need a new/second job, I probably need a therapist, I need a fucking break.

It's just about 4am now, good-fucking-night.

To blame

Terin's dead. It's not shocking, I knew it would happen one day. I didn't want to admit that I knew it, but ... I did know.

As per usual, it's my fault. Just like with Alex, I missed every red flag and now she's gone. She may not have directly addressed me, but I know I'm the target of this:

"Terin - This feeling isn't out of the ordinary. I knew it was coming and you could have prevented it. So I guess I'll apologize for your mistake." Timestamp ~1.30AM PST, September 20th, 2010

Yes, I knew. Yes I should have prevented it. Yes, I completely fucked up for the second time. And now there is that familiar pit inside my stomach, reminding me of it. I wish I hadn't walked away, I wish I'd have paid more attention, I wish I was still fucking there. But no, as usual, I dropped the ball and lost the game. And lost Terin.

Let's see what the future holds...

RIP Terin Alexander, September 20th, 2010

RIP Alex Savage, June 13th, 2010

"I wish that I could stop your tears from falling down, probably I'd make it worse. Maybe I wasn't always there, it doesn't mean I don't care... whatever it was." Sorry for Everything - Dead by April