(no subject)
Dec. 5th, 2003 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sathorI write, and I erase. Constantly. Over and over again. I can't take it anymore.
I start writing, I might even finish a long post and put it up. But then I decide it's not worth it. No one cares about what I think. If I'm going to write, I should just write it in a personal journal. This isn't the place for me to be writing anymore.
These past few days have been really hard on me. I keep saying I want to fade away.
I'm scared of something now too, though maybe not so scared and more intrigued.
You see, I was laying on my floor tonight in my room, all alone in my house, in the darkness. Speaking my mind about everything aloud. About how I don't think there's anything here for me. About how empty I feel inside.
Everyone that reads this, at least so I think, cares about me in some way, be it miniscule or large (I feel it's probably the former). Sure, big deal. He's a kid we never met, what's so important about it.
This net thing...it just wasn't worth it. I feel so empty with people on here that understand me and no one in real life that does. And I mean no one. Everyone who did has left me to die. Of course, there's always the question if they ever understood me at all, because if they did, I think they wouldn't have left me the way they did.
I care about and love all of you, but I just hate this feeling. Surrounded by nothing, with just a fucking piece of technology keeping me sane. This fucking technology is what helped me survive, and helped make me what I am. But if i would've never gotten this fucking technology, I might not have ever thought about the things I have, never gotten this void inside of myself. I can't change it, so why dwell...but I dwell anyway. It makes me cry.
I was laying on that floor in my room, and suddenly I laugh at myself. I say, "Magick, what idiocy. All it is, is another way to affect physical reality. Even in subtle ways. I've been trying so hard to learn how to affect my physical reality, because I'm frustrated with it. Magick is just a tool. It's just a fucking tool." The only reason is because I've been a frustrated little boy my whole life. Someone who isn't frustrated like this doesn't ever look to the occult for answers. But I'm not that someone. I'm weak, I'm frail, and I'm broken.
On that floor in my room, I begin to distance from reality. The thoughts I have connect and lead me to another place. A fantasy place, a place where I'm someone else, where things are different, where there's a specific purpose. It's always been like this, these places. It's like dreams that aren't dreams. It's like seeing everything vividly in the fantasy realm but seeing the darkness around you still. I think my eyes unfocus, but I don't know. Who really knows anything. These fantasy realms sometimes make me think about what the experience really is. When you meditate to higher levels of consciousness, they say you no longer even know you have a body. It's like that in these fantasy realms, I don't really know I have this body anymore. I am in that place, I am not here. It's like astral projection, you're somewhere else totally different, you're no longer here. It's so hard to explain with language. I hate it. These places aren't formed with language. That's why I hate it when books tell you stuff like, "Language is what makes up your thoughts." It's not like that. When I leave this place and go to the fantasy world, there is no need for language. There just is. It just is. It's there, it's not here, I'm me, but not me as I know it right now.
The scariest part is, as I walked downstairs after snapping out of the experience, I think to myself, "Can I escape permanently to that place? Can I leave here forever, and never have to return, never have to face these problems again, be me, but not this me?"
I want to. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be there.
I start writing, I might even finish a long post and put it up. But then I decide it's not worth it. No one cares about what I think. If I'm going to write, I should just write it in a personal journal. This isn't the place for me to be writing anymore.
These past few days have been really hard on me. I keep saying I want to fade away.
I'm scared of something now too, though maybe not so scared and more intrigued.
You see, I was laying on my floor tonight in my room, all alone in my house, in the darkness. Speaking my mind about everything aloud. About how I don't think there's anything here for me. About how empty I feel inside.
Everyone that reads this, at least so I think, cares about me in some way, be it miniscule or large (I feel it's probably the former). Sure, big deal. He's a kid we never met, what's so important about it.
This net thing...it just wasn't worth it. I feel so empty with people on here that understand me and no one in real life that does. And I mean no one. Everyone who did has left me to die. Of course, there's always the question if they ever understood me at all, because if they did, I think they wouldn't have left me the way they did.
I care about and love all of you, but I just hate this feeling. Surrounded by nothing, with just a fucking piece of technology keeping me sane. This fucking technology is what helped me survive, and helped make me what I am. But if i would've never gotten this fucking technology, I might not have ever thought about the things I have, never gotten this void inside of myself. I can't change it, so why dwell...but I dwell anyway. It makes me cry.
I was laying on that floor in my room, and suddenly I laugh at myself. I say, "Magick, what idiocy. All it is, is another way to affect physical reality. Even in subtle ways. I've been trying so hard to learn how to affect my physical reality, because I'm frustrated with it. Magick is just a tool. It's just a fucking tool." The only reason is because I've been a frustrated little boy my whole life. Someone who isn't frustrated like this doesn't ever look to the occult for answers. But I'm not that someone. I'm weak, I'm frail, and I'm broken.
On that floor in my room, I begin to distance from reality. The thoughts I have connect and lead me to another place. A fantasy place, a place where I'm someone else, where things are different, where there's a specific purpose. It's always been like this, these places. It's like dreams that aren't dreams. It's like seeing everything vividly in the fantasy realm but seeing the darkness around you still. I think my eyes unfocus, but I don't know. Who really knows anything. These fantasy realms sometimes make me think about what the experience really is. When you meditate to higher levels of consciousness, they say you no longer even know you have a body. It's like that in these fantasy realms, I don't really know I have this body anymore. I am in that place, I am not here. It's like astral projection, you're somewhere else totally different, you're no longer here. It's so hard to explain with language. I hate it. These places aren't formed with language. That's why I hate it when books tell you stuff like, "Language is what makes up your thoughts." It's not like that. When I leave this place and go to the fantasy world, there is no need for language. There just is. It just is. It's there, it's not here, I'm me, but not me as I know it right now.
The scariest part is, as I walked downstairs after snapping out of the experience, I think to myself, "Can I escape permanently to that place? Can I leave here forever, and never have to return, never have to face these problems again, be me, but not this me?"
I want to. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be there.
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-06 02:40 am (UTC)What you're saying is exactly how I feel.. And I've felt it for a long time.
Although my fantasy realms may differ from yours, the idea is the exact same thing, and the way you describe how it feels, is exactly the same. I feel like I'm phasing in and out of reality.
And I too, want to live there.
I'm with you my friend, all the way. Whatever needs to be done. It's just hard to do anything over the internet.