Notebook Writings #6

I always want whatever I don't have, and whatever I have I don't want

I wish I could turn the clocks back to when I was a kid, so I could smile. So I could not make the same mistakes. But knowing me, I probably would.

Nothing matters except yourself. Without you, how could you do anything? Without yourself, you couldn't breathe, or watch other people breathe. You couldn't give to other people if you didn't have you. Not me, though; no one needs me.

The pain is almost too much. How much can one person fucking deal with!?! I lived for years with the pain of the fire, the pain of the loss of love, the pain of being different because of everything and now the only thing I love is gone. I can't fucking stand it, or sit it, or whatever.

Love hurts, but its worse when its lost; when you can't be happy unless you're sad.

I'm always standing on that line between completely ill and completely fine. Balance is necessary; after awhile, it becomes easy. Its when it becomes easy, too easy, when I wanna jump. But both sides look scary.

A thing on Sylvia Plath I started writing but didn't finish it. An essay or something
Who is Sylvia Plath? Someone might ask, and I might be biased, but I'd tell them. Sylvia Plath was a writer. An amazing writer. Who was this mad genius? Who was this black snake? Who was this woman, the most beautiful to ever live? Yes, Sylvia Plath. And her book Ariel is the greatest ever written. Of course I'm writing this because 1) I want to, and 2) I hope someone who reads this goes out and buys Ariel. Or The Bell Jar. Or any of her works. But, first, some background, if its really needed. She was born in 1932. She was married to Ted Hughes. She killed herself in 1963. These facts are only essential; and the rest aren't too important. Endless trivia is interesting but doesn't really change anything. I was 15, and I was at

Somewhere in time you'll find me. Probably not the same time. None of them really please me. I don't know which ones mine.

Kidnap for the ransom.

Right wing denial of infirmary victims, shaking their fingers at blackened breathing witnesses. Pregnant woman must must get abortions. Then hit the showers to clean them of life. Walking, working, wasting away. Diahrrea victims of assault. Shitting blood. Nazis come, shoot and disperse. Goebbels always loved his children, so much he killed them in the end. Himmler smiles at his victims, their pain drove him with his friend. And all the while, right wing denial of the Nazi creation, with deaths soul they yell, screaming "Jawohl!" "Jawohl!" "Jawohl!" "Jawohl!"

Eyes pointed at the sky, brain planted firmly in seed.