LAments Why do people care so much about people but not everything else non-people? During the flood, they save the pigs because they are food... they are money...they don't see them as a living breathing lifeform just like them...why? When a building collasped, lives perished, it's a tradegy, When they fell a tree who mourned for the lives lost? The tree many lost lives once called "home"... Is that fair? Why is life not fair? Because without unfairness we won't know fairness... but does that make sense? Is that right? Where there could be no wrong, I won't know what's not right... what is that makes sense...since it varies people to people... How do you make sense of all these to anyone... There is no one to talk to. No one. It's better not to. Everyone likes you to listen to what they have to say, not what you have to say. Humans haven't changed for the past thousands of years. How do you explain to people that... you have a reason to die? To them dying has no reasoning to call for. How will they feel? if they to have to live every minute in dismal? To sleep every night looking forward to die in dreams and not wake tomorrow because it is so hopeless. Everything is. Everything. There are millions more unfortunate and in much more pain... out there... but still... my existence isn't necessary nor needed in the least bit.... to a world suffering from a case of overpopulation. You know when a tree die,....not just the tree died...so many others who were alive who have conscious,...breathing bleeding.. just like us were murdered. Don't people get it... why can't they see it? Jobless, problematically mentally problematic, penniless, stoo dumb to be a lawyer, too stupid to be a doctor, too invisibile to be any use. Must be the most embarrassing daughter any parent dread. Shame of the household. To rub more salt on the wound, single and will always be. Too digusting that's why. True, my art is ugly, but they are the only friends, the only ones to talk to. You know... it'd be really nice if my family just treat me as non-existent....because it hurts too much to see the pity and disappointment in their eyes. It's easy to be invisible around friends that's nice. so tired. Why is it so difficult to get paid?! It has happened so many times, I get apprehensive when accept jobs... will they pay me this time? can I trust them? How long will it take this time? 1/2 year? 1 year? Never? I feel bad to keep bugging them for money.... Love? what is love? Love doesn't exist. It's stupid. My parents don't love each other. I don't know if I love my family... will I cry when they die? Will i cry when one of my friends died? What is love? I can't feel anything for humans... I sympathise with anything non human... Noone has ever loved me either. Nobody has ever said they liked me. No boy has ever said he liked me. What is love? Stop making funny faces when love is mentioned. It Irks, because I can't read those facial expressions. What do they mean? happy? Shy? What is it? I can read fear, hate, joy, secret, pain... anything but that. Love doesn't exist. Attraction does. Looks does. And that is all. People are attracted to pretty things. I damn hell don't deserve anything nice. I rightly do not deserve one drop of happiness.. or anything at all. Disgusting! Disgusting! revoltingly sick sick sick! pile of puke! useless stupid piece of shit good for nothing! Human's self awareness is so strong, so deep that we have become so arguemenative... I feel sorry and guilty for the planet, for the forests, for the animals made homeless, suffering, tormented, treated like slaves and lesser beings by us humans. I'm angry angry angry angry. Nothing but blind rage for nothing for no reason except for the bloatedness, feels like a basket ball, looks like a basketball. There are desolate days, today is just hate. hate everything, hate typing this hate the world hate the computer hate myself hated my arm hate not finishing work hate everyone hate my cat's whinning hate hate hate hate hatehate hate arrrrrrgh!!!! Damn it! SHUT UP 2 weeks of mind numbing cramps, suffocating bloating, diaheora... still not coming... I hate my periods. Hate them. Hate them After staying in my room for a week without leaving at all.... I know how caged animals feel, how potted plants might have felt. Hikkikomori is different, they chose the lifestyle. With Internet, it isn't so hard. Being confined to a small space, there's no days, not weeks, because it doesn't matter anymore. Fed at scheduled time, there is no taste to the food anymore. It is just food... to keep you alive. You don't feel anything for it. You don't care for it. The body felt unreal, because you don't move so much anymore. It felt more like a coat than yourself. Having not talked for a week. It seemed as though I've never talked before in my life. There is no need to talk, no urge to talk, not desirable to talk. The sounds and sight outside... they grew so bland and repetitive, it's just background, the back of your mind, the tinnitus ringings. Not real. Couldn't be bothered. Imagine how caged animals feel.... like an empty mechanical clockwork box. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- People are always praising my artwork but they do not look at it. They do not want it. They don't care about it. Nobody wants it. Nobody buys it. People shun it and snub it. People pretend it doesn't exist. I can't make a living out of it. I've to hide it. My hands hurt really bad. People tell me how lucky I'm, I have famous and talented friends who tell me how lucky I'm. They tell me how they love my work, but they don't want it. My whole life Ive been served this most delicious, awesome looking pie filled with plump allergy itch inducing shrimps. Someone would eat it happyily on my behalf, infront of me and describe to me how delicious and lovely it is. Everyday. I can only watch. And watch. And watch. And pretend I'm happy. And pretend that I feel so fortunate. My hands hurt my eyes hurt my head hurts my period hurts my tummy hurts my heart hurts itch hurts my heart hurts But who would care. I can't tell anyone. They will just get angry. Snap out of it. Stop living in the past. Stop being pretendeous. Stop being selfish. They told me. The door is right infront of me but there isn't a door knob, least a key. If I may die right now. It would be mercy. Meanwhile, it can't be helped but to carry on walking and walking and walking on spot till I see a cliff I can happily jump off and finally rest because it hurts so badly everywhere. Every inch of my body and soul. I can't pretend that I'm not pestimisitc. When I tried to be optimistic, it hurts even more. It hurts less when I'm pestimisitc. It hurts less when I hate myself. It hurts less when I beat myself up. It hurts less when I tell myself I'm crap. I'm a hag. It hurts more when I tried to be confident and later snubbed, brushed off , or ingored for being confident. And it happens every single time I tried to be optimistic. It hurts. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I can't. Because I hate myself. I refuse to feel sorry for myself. It's stupid. It's just... I'm tired. I'm spent. It's cold. My whole life I'm tired of trying so hard when nobody and nothing in the whole existence care or even notice it at all. Tired of not existing even though I have a conscious and a walking living yet rotting physical body like everything else. I know and realise that even if I scream and shred and mince myself to bits slowly infront of everyone nobody will hear me, no one in the universe will even bat an eyelid about it. -- I hate my family. No I don't. I do but I don't All the accumulation of the hateful emotions have made me a very bitter ugly person. I feel extremely ugly and disgusting inside out. I hate that. I hurt everywhere. Hands, shoulder, neck, knee......... hurt pain. Pain is such an honest friend, and for that, a good true friend. Joy is rubbish. It's all lies. ----------------------------------- urgh pain. day in day out. urghhhhh when I said my period hurts, they told me i have a low torelance in pain. If my treshold of pain is that low, my ear hole wouldn't be 11mm big. I would have given up on weekly acupuncture. whyyyy won'tttt anybody everrrrr believeeee meeeee, just because i'm stupid and I look stupid???? ughhh pain usually it's just pimples, bloatedness and diarrhea, and pain in the knee, while feezing on the inside. Dizziness and retardness included. This time it decided to try something new, a new trick! YOuuuuuu I hate youuuu period. Period. Gastric. It 's so bad I couldn't sleep I wouldn't stand up. I couldn't sneeze or cough. Doctor's medicine didn't work. money wasted. I finally have a flat tummy! amazing. It even curve in a bit. 3 days later, it decided that since I have noticed the weirdness of the gastric, it came. Bloody hell. ugggh It's either eczema today, bloated fatigue tomorrow, itch the next day, headaches on rainy days, period on important days, scalp itch on Friday... or tendonitis and tinnitis everyday... or sprained parts on random days.... or depression and pessimism half the times. When? or when will it ever endddddd. It hurtttttts -------------------------------- Fractal doesn't happen just in nature, universe... it's in city and manmade objects too. It's in the cycle of both animated and non animated lives... be it a city peeling, growing, rising falling... a chair's life mirrored the sitter's.... the madness in order, the order in madness. the right within the wrong, the wrong within the right and within it.... flipping the pages within flipping of the pages....within... ---------------------------------- I feel pointless It's lonely. To not be able to feel one's own existence even though I can see myself in the mirror. feel the gravity of earth. I can't remember what I did last year. I remember the comics I did, but not what I ate yesterday. I know I will never never ever feel joy or love because I can't imagine myself being loved or being joyful. Nobody would love an ugly, sickly, weirdo loser, with one foot outside of reality and the other foot in a parallel universe where it didn't exist. Never. whenever someone tried to get close. I felt very grossed out. very very grossed out. Maybe it has something to do with being used to being alone... Avoid being alone with just one company. the pressure to find something to say is bone crushing. Unless it is just tagging along... that's fine. As long as I don't have to talk. In a family where no one compliments, no one apologises... everyone stays at least 50cm apart at all times.... it's detached... I've never heard my father said he loves mother nor vice verses... not even a hug. He never said he loves us either. Only dotes on(which is absolutely hogwash) will things get better if one of us dies? as a reminder. I wonder if I will cry. I volunteer to be the one dead. I'll miss my cats. They certainly laugh and chatter more happily whenever I'm not around. It feels empty to know that, till my death, nobody will ever love my for who I am. I'll never know what it is to like another person, why the world prizes love so much when it is just an appearance, a word. It is empty, bland, over used, never worked, over prized/priced, dolled up. Yet, without it, I cannot hold on to my existence, I cannot remember myself. They do it in movies, but it is true- I literally see my past fading away behind me. most of it is 3rd person, without smell or sound... devoid of most feelings....except for the "the blankness, leftout feeling" I can't seem to hold no to happy memories. I can't remember any of them even if I tried. I feel really really everyday. It chokes everyday everyday i died again and again everyday. Life is worse than death.... ...I"m my own Escher lock, locked, without a key at all to even begin with... that's how it feels like. Happy people wouldn't be able to understand... but it hurts. it hurts dully achingly every day and minutes and seconds for all those 33 years... --------------------------------------------------------------------- Dejected... not much response as usual, for Clairvoyance... as usual. Why did I even dared to hope. Why... I tried really hard... I worked really hard... it has been the same for the past 10 years... 15 years? I feel sick... ------------------------------------------------------------------- If I'm to kill myself... I need a plan. A perfect plan... random pills didn't work... it hurts... hurts hurts... a whole dozen of coffee... didn't work... idiot... medicated oil didn't work... height... didn't work too many doubts. the bathtub and sink... too messy and traumatizing for people... height too... too mesy... hanging... didn't like drowning... probably won't like... definately won't like hanging... bridges... out of question... after reading abt it online... shooting... no guns.. no guts... coward. The safest one is... to go somewhere farrr away. away from human contact... winter preferably. Then all I need is to tell my family I'm going away from work for a few months. Then I ill schedule my email account to send them prewritten emails... a week... then a month.. and slowly to none. Meanwhile I need to find a place devoid of humans... ermm deep mountains? Overseas of course. Then I just have to kill myself high up in a tree or cave....well hmm by cutting my wrist probably. The animals can eat my dead body... then nobody will notice for quite awhile. Oo must need to get rid of the passport first.... by burning it. I'll die with a photo of my cats, a pen and pencil, and a sketchbook. This way... my family will at least think I have ran away or decided not to contact them anymore. No need to leave messages for friends... maybe just 2 or 3. To tell them I'm dead, so that they don't have to worry about my disappearance and work stuff. so that it won't disrupt their work. The rest... hmm nobody cares anyway No worries about them contacting my family either since noone knows one another or each other. yes! Just have to make sure I properly died... err will probably try to get my hands on a whole bottle of sleeping pills and alcohol.... that's going to be hard.. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- When people raise their voice ...or get angry at me ...or give a hint in the voice or words of being upset at me, I become a hare in the headlights. I go into shock in auto mode. I can't help it. I grow cold inside, I blank out. It hurt in a funny way I can't describe. Faded in a way but 10 times the shock of a lightning bolt, and quiet, silent, mute. Phantom tears swell up in phantom eyes, while my eyes hurt from feeling dried out because I couldn't blink. In shock. I can't get close to people, because I fear and I know someday they will get angry or upset at me. I don't want them to come near. There is an invisible repelling magnetic force ...an indescrible calm hollow fear to it. I can't get close to people. Facing them my brain switches off. I can't speak, I can't breath, I can't remember my vocab, my grammar, I can't feel my surroundings. I can't hear my surroundings, I can't smell my surroundings. I get blankly faraway-ishly dizzy. I get lost in that blank-out. People think I 'm stupid, They think I'm slow and always always wrong. ALWAYS. Even with facts. They think I'm a push-over. It hurts. I don't want to go out. I hate people because I can't deal with them. I hate talking, because it makes me even stupider than I already am. It makes me extremely tired. It makes me hate people, knowing I can not hate people, which in turn makes me hate myself for being- a coward indecisive trapped loser. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The world isn't fair. That I already know a long long long ago. Yet it still hurts to know. Chun DK and me were the first singaporeans to have our own booth at AX in 2000. I 'm quite sure. I wanted to go AX alone initially bec I had never been aboard before. It soon morphed into a group trip. I was the first singaporean to get my own works published in the US in 2001. I'm quite sure. I was the first Singaporean to publish a doujinshi in Japan in 2004? I'm quite sure. One of the firsts to go sit at SDCC and tokyo comiket as an artist, but of course my table was always empty, for sure. I'm determined to be the first to publish my own comic book in Japan. I shall do. Not because it is a game Not because I want another "1st". It is meaningless to be the first if you just vanish away after that. But because I want to work hard. because I want my work to be read and enjoyed. And I need a paying job. I don't want to be left behind ... I don't want to be chasing at people's back ...I want to be infront, be there before anyone gets there ... to be there where it isn't polluted with people ...yet ...when it isn't spoilt yet I'm not healthy, and can't afford medical fees ...my parents are old ...I have 5 cats ...I need art materials ...my computer is dying... I could publish 1000 books aboard and people in Singapore will still continue to snub at me. That I'm sure. Everytime when I talk to someone or I happen to be there, they make me feel as if I am worse than a 3rd class citizen, like a brainless stupid fat hamster who can't even run the wheels. People I know, neighbours, shopkeepers, relatives, people in uniforms ... in general, people. I really don't want to go out there. I don't want to talk to anyone. I can't take it. It is hurtful. It is hurtful enough to be loser and know you are a loser without having someone to rub more salt into the wound. It hurts too when people I know lie and pretend. People keep saying they like my art and works ...but I could never find paying jobs as an artist. agencies don't want me, neither do any major publishers of course. When the books are out there, nobody would pick it up. Reviews are negative. Have you any idea how it hurts... compliments and stabbings. over and over and over and over and over and over again for the past 18 years. It would have been nice if I just died, rather than knowing that my body isn't holding up any more and feeling it falls apart bits by bits every minute. and I have not a single person to talk to but to blab and fight w myself as a 3rd person so that I can remain standing upright and not collaspe. I'm so tired. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- One thing I have learnt in this life nobody is going to help you No one if going to save you ever You can wish, pine, whine, hope, scream. Nobody is going to come ever You have to help yourself from the begining till the end till death You have to work really hard, how ever painful it maybe, how ever lonely it maybe, how ever dark infront it may be, how ever endless it may seem. There is only you from the first breath till the last breath alone ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I'm sure everyone knows I'm not well, or not feeling quite right. Everyone thinks it is a norm, a normal because I'm an artist. Nobody ever asked how I'm feeling. I feel, they are waiting for my death. They expect it, and it is now a norm. Sometimes I wish, I'd wake up and someone would smile and ask me how I am and give me a hug. Just once, before I die. But of course, that will never happen. It is less probable than the sky falling. I can't even imagine it. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Is it normal for a 9 year old kid to fantasize about torturing mermaids while going to sleep? I knew it was ...was irk ... I felt the irk. I felt old, ancient, my soul, old and murky ...like a dirty palette with colours all mixed uglily and marshy. I sanitized myself ...it was hard ...forgotten how i did it. I forced an image of crushing it into a ball of paper and hurled it out out out ... It never came back. It can come back but the feeling of it is different. It isn't dirty, it's cleaner, purer. Rage is itself, not mangled with foulness of otherwordness etc There is no point to this dialogue. Just a feeling of temporal weirdness. ------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm out of money. Not been paid for 5 months. Haven't had a conversation with a person for 2 weeks. I feel fine. --------------------------------------------------------------------- you are not surprised because you do not really grasp an understanding --------------------------------------------------------------------- I have always wondered about how long I can grit and stay afloat as an artist, a comic book artist pessimistically. Nowadays I wondered more, and more so with each fading year. I'm running out of spirits, of will, to fight. I guess I"m not meant to tell stories, to do art. I wasn't even meant to be alive in the first place. --------------------------------------------------------------- My hands are damaged. My mom's hands are damagad My sister doesn't help out. My dad doesn't help out. They have sub zero EQ. I'ven't been paid for the past 5 months. My PC won't start up without rebooting at least 3 times ...a new one costs at least 2k I have to go the doctor and take supplements and they cost money. I can't afford proper medicication or health checkups. My period hurts every single time so horribly it'd be easier to just died off already. I have no money to go to the specialist. 5k? I can't afford that. General doctors just laughed at my pain. $50 went into their pocket for laughing in my face. I can't do housework and needs to find parttime housekeeper to ease my mom's workload...At least $500 a month... how am I going to afford that? If I don't ... I can' risk damaging my hands and back further... My cats need food When will I be paid? Why is it that most of the work I did ...nobody could be bothered to paid me for them ...that I have to beg them as if it's my fault for not begging? My hands hurt and people don't get it. Nobody did. Father: excerise your hands more... eat more friend: getting better yet? can you work? huh how worrying. friend: I have never been asked out by a boy. Not once in my life. Well except once- who is a stalker who told me to try drugs. Because I'm ugly and stupid, and I blend into the walls. I'm getting old, physically and mentally falling apart, and I'm extremely strugglingly poor. Still not receiving work ...after 18 years of trying. 18 years ...and especially not in my own country I don't look forward to tomorrow. I don't look forward to the future. I don't want to. My whole necke and back hurts really really bad too. Every second. I can't sleep. The bed's too small, my back hurts. Oh god or gods or devils and demons or anything! please just kill me already! It isn't so hard for you~ Why does it have to be so hard. My whole life I have never remember being geniunely warm and happy inside. Never. IT hurts so much. It's always sour and bitter and hollow and panks of pin stinging cold inside. Always. always always everyday everyday all 30 years I could remember. All I can remember of this life is pain. Different kinds and tones and varieties and taste of pain. It hurts so much. so much so much so much so much. Always thought that I'd either die at 18. Either that or I'd die and be happy. Or I'd be famous and build my own little cottage. When I didn't die, I thought well at 24 I'd surely die. Now I know it is far more cruel than I imagined. It's torture. Proper proper slow stewing torture. This place is hell and nobody believed me. ------------------------------------------------------------------- It is such a weird feeling. I feel digusted towards fellow human beings, and again I don't. I feel digusted at myself. I feel dirty, dirt covered, blood drenched, dirt ...dirt ...lumps of meat... Looking a human beings at a certain angle and perspective makes me feel neauseous. digusting feeling. Watching a lion ravages a deer or a human is nothing compared to a human slaughtering, abusing or torturing another lifeform. Even the simple action of cutting up a piece of steak or vegetable looked digusting and very very wrong.. so much so I'm feeling neauseous. Does anyone feel the same way I wonder. It is such a conflicting imploding feeling. I feel like a traitor, I feel betrayed. I fear humans, yet I'm proud of them. I hate them, but I can't hate them. There is no one to talk to. No one who would listen or respond. I can't trust them, I don't trust them yet I longed someday someone would love me- which is getting more improbable by day. So much so, There is not an ounce of hope deep within the deepest hollow nothing blank darkness I can see with my inner eye inside myself. I can't feel it. I can't. I can't. There is simply nothing there but hollowness. Nothing in the future nothing in the past. How do you even explain that to anyone? They will just laugh at you for being a cliche, for telling what you really see and feel. Very few people I've met ever showed me much respect, not even as an equal. It's hard to go out, when people look at you in pity and as inferiority. Music gives comfort, movies give comfort, books give comfort. They give me hope. Once outside, it's all gone every drop of hope I held on so desperately so fearfully so sadly. I know they don't belong. Hope belongs to the light. I'm all but dark nothingness, vacuum that is not in peace. Imagining what humans can or will do makes me so disturbed, I'm disgusted at myself. This is torture. To live like that everyday. It is torture. I feel so sick. I can't control it. Yet I want a hug, again I can't help it but not want to hug another being. Too scary. it's scary to go close to a human eing. It gives me goosebumps with ssick feeling. It felt cold underneath the skin. It felt so cold and involuntarily twitchy. It is torture. I can only imagine live after death would be even worse and more twisted. I feel like crying everyday because it hurts, but no tears would come, it just hurts so numbly everyday, all my life. All of this life. I do not trust people. I never will. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- After watching the Hoarders, I realised my parents are hoarders. I cleaned up and out the house and hurt my back and hands, and got blamed and yelled and cursed at- For a plastic bottle, for trimming a diseased pot of plant. I almost left home once, but they dragged me back. In a way it's good becuase I don't want my cats to suffer from their hoarding. They still see me as the black sheep of the family because I tried to help while my sister just ignored it all. After watching programs about hoarders, they laughed it off and continue hoarding... I found up to at least 10 hair dryer, really heavy ones, almost all are spoilt... and gadgets. Mom keeps scraps... cloths bottles plastic strings bottles carriers torn bags pots.... I"m so so tired. --------------------------------------------------------- I don't feel comfortable in this house. I know there are no spirits in this house because i can feel it. The darkness feels different, the whole space feels different. It's different here... it feels too empty, yet too suffocating. It was ok during the first year. IT changed after the old lady moved in next door. My cats started getting sick almost instantly together. I started getting sick. Financially went down hill. my parents and sister are better off than us I noticed. my cats and I are at home the longest hours. Living in the house is like ...rolling a rock up an endless mountain. I can "change" things... "shift" the energy here and there by rearranging, moving, removing things till it feels comfortable... but here, it is so difficult to do that. BEcause of a lot of factors. Whenever I tried to "shift", something "came" up or "obstract" my "shifting"... like an invisible wall, force field. I feel chained. I can see that my cats feel uncomfortable too. They get agitated easily, and so do I. My parents won't move. I can see they are not comfortable here, but just do not want to move... in a way that some energy is playing with their mind.... like pushing.. a kind of "pushing" I'm trying to shift into the right energy but they are not helping. I prefer our past 2 haunted house. It may be scary and uneasay, but it's not suffocating, it's not draining. This house is draining my cats and I, and the rest of my family to death. I don't know what happened, but it only started after the old lady moved in. I have had dreams in which "things" kept trying to come in through the back door. Scary things. I can differentiate dreams. There are the normal REM, then there are the messages, then there are the happening types and the lucid. Those were the happening types. They are symbols mixed up with stylised "unknown energy" we cannot yet see or comprehend. I know my dreams. But I am sure nobody is going to believe a word I said. we are draining away, and there is not a thing I can do about it. nobody would listen. They just laugh at me. ----------------------------------------------------- I always think that if you are not in awe, you are not really grasping and comprehending the knowledge of it. ---------------------------------------------------- Why do people always like to look at me and portray me as a retard or dimwit. IT hurts. just because I can't hold a vocal converstaion and always have a blank look on my face. It hurts. It makes me feel as everything in my mind is an illusion or delusion. That I'm wrong and always will be at everything. It hurts. It makes my doubt my sanity and being. IT hurts. IT hurts as though I 'm being stabbed every minute every day for my whole life. over and over and over... It makes it hard to breathe. It hurts. My whole existence aches and hurts and aches and hurts everywhere and I can't scratch it or do anything about it. There is no one to talk to. No one who would listen. If I don't kill myself, the invisible aches and pain will. Slowly. Slowly. Torturingly slowly but just as painfully. -------------------------------------------- ergh they are making me go out on SUnday. They say I'm a spoilt sport, selfish so what it's my birthday. what's the point of celebrating a useless piece of life. THe main thing is the deadline. Monday which means I have to rush like crazy which means my back and hands and arm are going to hurt like crazy, no sleep... which means I have to go to the doctor next week... which means hearing more depressing things from the doctor which means paying... which means I can't watch the movie since there's no time because have to go to the doctor... which means no time to do homework which means I'm going to look stupid in class again... which means... hah... really who cares. hurts hurts ---------------------------------------------- Ah just realised that I have been trying to make people be proud of me my whole life, craving for acknowledgements. I worked so hard but it never worked. I'm crumbling apart literally, still it didn't work. People still see me as a stupid naive fool. My friends think nothing of me more than a slow wit of a solth. My parents are never proud of me. Never been, never will. My sister thinks I'm a bump. My relativies still hold their noses 95 angle skyhigh up. Hahahaha ------------------------------------------ please let me die It hurts eveeeeerywhere inside out every muscle, every inch of the body, every fragment of dimensional space, every bit of my consciousnesssss it hurtttttttttttttttts please let me die, please take away the pain all 30 over whatever years of pain. please. please it hurts hurts ------------------------------------- I've never seen a ghost before, but have seen quite a few strange inscets. a huge huge moths. A spikey black huge caterpillar crawlig up my leg ... 11 floors above ground? No plants around, in the bathroom? 6 am? and disappeared when I went get my mom? nobody believed me of course. a tortise crossing the road and nobody seemed to care? a huge black bird in my dream that stared and stared at me. urgh father took me to the seafood restuarant for my birthday. couldn't eat anything. even the veggies are contaminated itch. mom and sis couldn't eat anything either. And he spent 100 over dollars... for what? any dish without seafood please? at seafood restuarant? urgh -------------------------------- it is a torture moving against the current. It is a torture when everyone thinks and sees you as an idiot no matter how hard you try. -------------------------------- The phobic fear of phone ringing, of disappointing people, of making someone angry, of making a conversation I didn't realise it till now that they were all the results of my upbringing, my childhood. when someone gets disappointed or angry at me, I can never, ever face them again. I can never talk to them again. It gives me chills. I can feel my insides froze, I stop thinking and and the world beyond my mind seems so far away, and enclosed, my head starts to spin, I couldn't blink. It isn't till hours or days later that it starts to hurt, very very very badly. I realise that my handicap in speech is because I practically didn't talk to anyone but my parents till I was around 14 or 15. It didn't help that I had not a single friend in school, even with friends I could not and still can't speak properly. People think I'm just dumb or slow in the head. I guess I am. Why was it wrong that I didn't know how to do my homework. Why was it wrong to go on school excursions and outings. Why was it wrong to go to a classmate's house? Why was it wrong to draw. Why was it wrong to walk home or go to the shops alone. Why was it wrong to hate jeans Why was it wrong to wear skirts Why was it wrong to ask questions Why do they always fight and I know it's always our fault for being born Why won't it all ends. Why do I feel so alone so alienated ro rejected by the world around me. The world has rejected me ever since I was born. No matter how hard I work, or try nobody understands or appreciate it. I want to cry but I can't, that hurts evern more, just like the way you need to vomit but it won't let you and you have to swallow it all down. over and over and over again for eternatity Why is it wrong to ask for death I never had friends. acquaintances yes, but friends I can share joy and sorrow, none. Even if I had I couldn't. I can't talk, least argue or protest. I didn't learn the skills of communicating till I was forced to in my late teens.The experiences were shameful adn merciless, which in turn made communicating vocally now even more difficult. I have never loved. I have never been courted. I have never received a single object or compliments from a guy. Guys hate me. Girls seems to be ok with me. Though on the whole the only ones I can get close and talk properly to are cats and other small animals, and those things in my nightmares. I can never remember happiness or joy. (Just like dreams. For as long as I can remember since a child, 90% of my dreams are nightmares. And I have grown to like them very much) Joy. THey are so far and short in between and yet I can't remember the taste or feel of it. tried as I might, I couldn't. Only the dull pain the weighs so heavy inside I hold onto desperately, because without it I can't feel anything else except nervousness and hopelessness and suffocating darkness. It's worse than pain and sorrow, like the inablity to cry. And I can't seem to cry my heart out anymore. The tears won't come... not since I the last time I tried to die. Seems like I have lost it along with the attempt. I have always enjoyed good fortune and later to have atom sized stones hurled at my head with enormous force to shatter the little bit of hope I held on desperatedly on in the most cruel ways. -------------------- 2012 will be the good year to die. With no jobs prospects, with no savings, with no future, single and unwanted, might be homeless, parents retiring, cats not healthy, health issues, bills to pay... It is a good year to end or it will be too late. oh but it is so troublesome to find a way to die without getting anyone involed or into trouble or to have to clean up after my death...ergh! why can't I just die naturally? Why won't you let me die? Do you see me as a joke? Is it fun to watch me fall and fall and struggle and fall? ----------------------------- The ungrateful brat.... I could slap her! Ask her where the flu medicine is and she "how should I know? go find it yourself. The soup is too spicy" Adn she threw it all away. Nothing is ever good enough for them Too cold, too hot, too sour, too spicy, too sweet, too salty, uncooked, overcooked, too oily, too watery, not enough this too much that... bad for my health, too soggy, too "cold" for the body " too hot for the body".... why do I even bother. I do my best to cook for them everyday... why do I even bother. I feel sick. mom wants me to go see the doctor tomorrow... no way. I'm not taking a ride from my father. He'd prefer we not meet anyone outside(especially guys) but the people his side of the family, and they are all snobs. I hate them all. Proper snobs. He'd prefer if we do not go out at all. Ever. He'd prefer we do not talk, do not make a sound, do not speak, do not get sick, just be there, only listens to him only, not argue, praise him only... like a clay pot. Always there. Just there, and can be kept out of sight whenever convenient. He's going to go tsk tsk, impatiently because he'd be late to feed the stray cats and there won't be a parking space. and late for breakfast. "I feel quite unwell too" he said... Never, never. I never ask favors from him, nor my sister, not if I can help it.... sometimes I forget and everytime I regret. Wait till Tuesday, maybe it will go away. I'm nto wasting money on the doctor, no money. If it doesn't ohhh we will just wait and see. see who will win, the flu or me. If I lost Hopefully I will die. Which of course... that is just wishful silliness. ------------------ For 34 years I have waited that someday someone would come up and give me a hug and tell me it is all right, that I don't have to die. No one ever came. It is dark and cold. People all around, but it's cold. The message I get everywhere I go everyone I talked to, especially family and close friends seems to be- I don't have a choice but to die. But, if I died, it will be my fault that I have caused hurt and trouble. That, I was nothing but a nusiance when I was alive. If I survived death, it would be worse. I would be a nusiance, a trouble, a wasted useless human being. A regret to everyone.