It’s time for re-self discovery again. Upon waking to this stark and darkly shaded sky, my stumbled head began to feel heavy this morning. Throughout the day, while working irritably in the darkroom for photography, jumbled up emotions were tangled and unhinging off their hooks. Maybe it’s because of today’s dreadful weather, or because it’s my time of the month-or maybe-it’s just about time my repressed turmoils release themselves.

I wince at the word ‘DRUGS’; wherever, and whenever printed or said, I wince, cringe a little, and try to shake it off. It’s like this haunting word to me, one that I use to jump for joy for, but now, am terribly afraid of-no, not afraid-sick of. It reminds me of my weakness, my real fear, the fear that I’ve reluctantly choose to disguise from myself, and have not until recently come to terms with.

And I just had a couple puffs of that last cigarette, the one I kept just to taunt myself and test my willpower. I’ve gone so long without having to submit, and today, with all these rapid and sparing thoughts, I’ve fallen to it. I’ve submitted. I haven’t surrendered though, but for now, these stressing times will forgive this act of hypocrisy.

My fear is: hurt. I don’t want to get hurt, be hurt, or hurt period. I’m always running, finding ways to escape. It’s like this ‘thing’ coming at you, stalking you, being with you everywhere; it’s on your tail wherever you go. So you run, you run because you don’t want to get hurt. What if that ‘thing’ has a gun, is sharp, or is a vacuum that’ll suck your soul. Through my experience I’ve always been hurt when I meet the ‘thing’, it always manages to hurt me, because I let it. It has been engraved into me, that it’s because I let it meet me, and that I put myself into that position of vulnerability to be hurt. So my initial reaction is to just run, I just run, or I keep a distance-I try to forget it. But this ‘thing’ is a fucking bitch to shake off, it’s got some sort of super glue hold. I can’t escape it. There is no way to evade this ‘thing’.

My habit of lying to myself is born from this fear. I lie to myself, which in turn is inevitably lying to others, about my state of being. I’m happy, I’m good, everything is alright. When it never really is, I just tell myself that. It’s funny, this paradox, I’m afraid of being hurt, but as I repress more of everything, I’m hurting myself even more. I’m such a contradiction, it pains me to think. Let’s use my relationship with my father for example. I don’t trust no one, because I’ve been let down so many times before. I now hate being disappointed, at myself, and when people are disappointed in me. It’s been nailed into my head that I’ve got the capabilities to reach the stars, as I’ve been told so forth by adults, and now I realize I can’t do that, it’s a big let down. Let’s just say, my faja hurt me alot. My mom is a whole another story. Proceeding with this knowledge, let’s discuss how this has affected my relationships with men. The biggest and most prominent subject I can mannequin for this, is Kyle. And I seriously hope he’s not reading this.

Now, with Kyle, there was this really drawn out repressed feeling I couldn’t recognize. This is because I had never felt it before. I can now assuredly say that it was not merely just infatuation, but actually love, that had stricken me for 2 and half years. I was too afraid of getting hurt, the hurt of losing a best friend, and so although I wanted to have a relationship, I had rather repress and hurt myself, then hurt his too. In my mind at the time, losing our friendship would’ve hurt far more, than just not having a relationship, because at least we’d have still been friends. Wrong! It hurt so much more just repressing those feelings, which developed even more as time went by. Sucks to be me. As for my faja, I keep this invisible shield between us. I won’t let him near me again, I don’t want to like him, and I don’t want to be vulnerable to be affected by him.

This summer, I had numerous opportunities to meet guys, and I wanted to go, but impulsively I’d just stand them up. Inside me, something has be refined from my childhood, into fear, fear of hurt. I’ll do anything to avoid it, the literal word being ‘avoid’. Hurt, I say in respect to emotion, not physical. Hurt from friends, is ten times more painful. But I can’t just run, or keep a distance all the time, especially if what I want is to really run towards the ‘thing’ and meet it. There is a chance it won’t hurt me again, and I’m a risk taker.. so.. therefore I should be able to do it right? You’ve got to face your fears, head on. I’ve stopped trying to escape already, so now I’ve got to stop running, at least come to a halt and let the ‘thing’ catch up. I don’t necessarily have go towards it, but let it, come to me.

What spawned this?.. Johnny Cash.

What’s the ‘thing’? Well everything, all my dark experiences in the past.

.. HELP! I need somebody, not just anybody.

All I can say, just because I’m ffffar too distracted tripping out, is that: it’s real hard to turn Shoppers Drug Mart, into Poppers Drug Mart. The sign, that is to say, not the word itself, but those giant letters planted right on top of the shops entrance, made prominent by the ever so graceful light. You’d think it’d be easy on shrooms -but yeah- it ain’t.

What a pleasant evening… I can’t recall all of it at the moment, but I know it was awesome- and I felt awesome- so then it must’ve been awesome~ (^u^)b

Friday:
Oh buddy, Friday was spectacular. It wasn’t just because I got to watch the Hitman movie, satisfied with the movies fine display of action and filming, but, something else happened. Melissa had sex. Oh my! That is all. With who? Well, someone who for the first time in a long while, I feel I have taken a liking to. Ever since Kyle, I never thought I’d ever find someone who’d share the same humour, and appreciation of aesthetics – to be able to look at a bunch of lights and stare silently together, as our minds start to clink and form sparks. Now, don’t ask me if he’s my boyfriend, I don’t know. I mean, I like the guy and all, but well – reading minds is definitely a superpower I wish I had, but unfortunately don’t. Then again, I’m not big on commitment, more said, I’m afraid of it. Something about being latched down and limited that doesn’t really peak my interests, with all that said though, I’m not flaky nor a whore. It’s such a contradiction. I mean, yeah, I like doing whatever I want, but if I really did find someone I liked enough, I don’t think I’ll be smucking around. Nah-ah. Personally, there is this deeply rooted resentment for those who cheat, my father did that to my mom. People can do it all they want, but for me, I’d feel the shittest of all shits if I ever did that to someone, especially if I never came out with it. Obviously, I’d say it though. I say everything.

Saturday:
Sushi for breakfast with the mister unamed, who I shall refer to as Bear. He looks like a bear, a teddy bear. After the cheque was graciously paid for by Bear, I suggested to check Pharmasave for Katie. We caught her on her break on the cell with Tess as we walked up. Chit a little chat there, and then we went Bear’s house to play Guitar Hero 3 and watch Nightmare Before Christmas, which might I add, is such an amazing movie! Skip to five o’clock and I’m home. Without even a moments of rest, I shower and get ready to go out again for a night of fun, and boy was it fun. Rylan’s house, not so many people there, but you add in 4 swigs of whisky in consecutively and it doesn’t matter (It doesn’t matter, says the Rock). I hadn’t been so drunk since the long weekend. I forget what happened, but I woke up to a familiar smiling face, Rylan Anderson’s smiling face.

Sunday:
Ry drops me home, me go for run, then sleep. Faja takes me tozhe mall for haircut; I buy chicken teriyaki on the way home. Here I am. I adore my hair cut, it doesn’t look at much different, but at least it ain’t all flat and tangled.

It was somewhat a joyous, and.. creepy feeling, like.. beatles crawling under my skin, but good beatles, like The Beatles, type of beatles.. y’know, ya, when Brooke was singing Dear Prudence to me. She looked like a hippie, and not a fake one, a real one. I wonder.. Prudence, are we really one in the same person, just in another dimension. You exist in movie land, and I, here, reality – but not reality – I don’t know if we could really call it that. Somewhere, out there, within the unknown, exists an entity.. just..like.. me. Isn’t that scary, but really it isn’t – no – it’s enthralling!

I wish I could remember things, but I can’t. I remember watching a very intense SmashBros game, it was to the max. Today, was a good day, except for the fact I exposed my entire film, which I can utterly admit, was the best set of film I’ve ever taken up to this point in my life. sigh~

Brooke: Where were you the other day, Seannn came by.
Melissa: Oh, I was at Jerms place with a bunch of people, but that was Saturday.
Brooke: Ah, yeah, what’d you guys do?
M: Stuff..
B: Oh I know.. I already know.
M *confused*
B: I know everything. (very serious) You guys are bad.
M: Yeah..
Sarah: What happened?
M: Oh. Me and Jon had sex.
-silence-
B: I didn’t know that! What?!
-Sarah stunned-
M: Nope. Nothing happened.

Jeez, I’m so tired, and it’s only 8:40pm! I woke up at like 6 am though, to study for a test I already knew I’d massacre. I don’t have much to say, today went by swell..ish. This routine thing isn’t so exciting, boy, I wish I started this during the summer, now there’s something to write about!