it's still my dream to be a super cool teenage dirtbag. no, really, when i was a naive teenager in the early 2000's sleeping through high school just before dropping out, i would stay up all night on my bedroom PC looking up every video of dir en grey, sads, vidoll, and all others as the epitome of rock star chic. i still kind of feel that way even though by now most of them are broken up and no more. i still saw almost all of them on stage in one way or another though! even saw miyavi do a set at the wiltern in LA alongside kagrra, duel jewel, vidoll, girugamesh, mucc, merry, and others that creep away from mind. waiting for 8-10+ hours in the hot july sun in the middle of koreatown all day smoking cigarettes, sitting on my ass, and taking photos with other people who were there for livejournal meetups and the like. i was dressed up and even found myself interviewed on camera by a JP staffer for something or someone and speaking japanese as a foreigner while envious kids surrounded me. awkward as fuck. i can't recall any of the footage for the show ever being used except one of the bands (merry?) having some CD+DVD set that included a little footage. if they had any plans for some kind of home video release then it didn't pan out. i sure never saw anything like that. good times though, man.
i'm rewriting a third draft of the treatment for this because i've wholly decided i need to finish this spec script and get to the other ideas i want to pursue and half-sketched in final draft already. it helps enormously to make my sneaky emotional escape from the turmoil that has ensnared all of my family, give due and proper respect to the memory of loves no longer orbiting with us, and let myself feel like i have a purpose after all. i think i've recently written about politely resisting being pursued romantically by others and most of them took it well enough even without me having to explain that i'm emotionally incapable of loving anyone more than whom i still love. i don't think others could really understand because most people only think about what they can get out of something and in the context of relationships that has a lot to do with what fuck pleasure you can take for yourself. i sincerely miss sex but it's not worth being roped in by the strings that come with it. i don't care anymore. when i said i was left destroyed by sua in that way, romatically and more, i genuinely meant it and that's how it feels inside me. that's okay. gonna jerk off and power a pagan sigil and pretend i know what i'm talking about instead.
my pills are coloring the blood flow in my brain and i'm ready to say goodbye to a nothing entry. just know that i'm keeping busy busy on rewrites, reworks, and drafting on my writing to move to the next project. i'm also giving substantial thought toward avenues where i could leave the US and all its perfuming tragedies and make my way to japan for a little bit. i need a rabbit hole of escape from here. from everything. from myself. i need something new. i've already left messages to two people who used to put the idea to me so long before but i was with sua all that time and wouldn't and couldn't leave her for anything in the world. i still wouldn't if i thought i meant anything to her the way i used to believe i would no matter what. anyway, i'm unsure if there are better ways to go about getting a visa to stay in japan for 6+ months (or indefinitely) beyond teaching english but i wouldn't be picky about it anymore the way i used to be. at the same time, i can't go to rural nowhere, i need to be in a metro part of the country otherwise it's a dealbreaker. or maybe not, maybe the country air would do me well for once, but i'll let it be known on here if anything could come of any opportunities for me. i'd just like to leave and be on the other side of the planet stretching my skinny wrists to the sky like antennas to heaven. i probably wouldn't really be missed but let's pretend i would be. let's pretend i had reason to stay here beyond my own imagination and need to believe i'm truly loved and wanted where i have a place to belong. that's pretty sad, isn't it?... it is what it is though. otherwise i would have more purpose to my everydays while i've been here than mourning this or that, bettering my body for this or that, and sticking to sobriety from drugs and alcohol for something or another. i never know what pure purpose is left except a promise to be who i should've been in the first place when i had the chance and i believed i was loved. perhaps if and when i can escape across the seas, i'll be happily surprised to know that i was wanted after all. if only i could know it now.
i made a day only for her in my own sincere way but it's not like anyone else could ever understand. one of those things i couldn't put to words and tell very many others but kept to the metronome of my heartbeats unto sin i'll smother. fuck me, every day is a nightmare, but i'll only find solace in modest living as i would in the scents of her clothes i kept but could never wear. i sold most of them for a savior's merry-go-round through my strangled veins and feel no good for living within anything but my flesh wounded by a planetary orbit of chains. i ruined everything. i let her down and i have little to show for my existence since she gave up hers. all i have left to draw is the purity i sought and let be bought along the way yet found a perfect costa rican lolita to be mine only to be let go by the existence i deserve and could only ever entwine. losing and loss and boyish bruising.
hope you enjoyed that because you wouldn't ever know what i have to live with nor ever know how much i want to kill myself when the time is right (always). even if i still love more than anything. that's living even when your loves live no more. happy 28th of december to you all.
how embarrassing. 気持ち悪い。all of this fucking melodrama to be swallowed upon sucking it down and seeing it worded as if anyone would notice or care out loud. still, she left her coma to a forever after in a decade anniversary met today which makes it some sort of special, doesn't it?... i want to believe it, if only for my selfishness to make sacred, because her life was beautiful. my moderate-at-best looks were the only thing that took me so far to be fucked, love, and drawn apart. however accidentally. that's my life as forever defined but resisting all sympathy as it has ever been spit upon my silhouette.
adriana messaged me to ask if i'm okay but i told her that i'm in mourning. i'll be okay. i survive everything. i wish i knew she could forgive me for taking a part of her day to put toward me. i told her i love her for being such a good human being.
it's what's left to pretend and dream when you're a lonely little kid to teenager to youthful adult with no means to connect to other people in touch and spend all of your free time on the net where you can be who you really are and be loved for it. since i was a child 'til now, i thought i could find meaning in myself through others and it bloomed brilliantly in 2002 when a snow soft soul taught me to be who i am: believe in myself, have confidence, flaunt, and know i'm worth something special. i've let myself be used upon realizing i was adult enough to be flesh to be fucked so i could feel some worth and do it against the scenery of twinkling hollywood hotels. paid up only to spend it on club drugs and recycle my worth to someone else before my night flight back to suburban reality. it all comes full circle because here i am. again. exactly 10 years past was my existence as i knew it best and all i was left after being let go by rena and falling under the advise of marquis de sade's fictional novels to slurp the quintessences of life as best i could live to taste them. i wiggled under the tunes of bad philosophical influences. then i met her. i belonged to her. her to me. we were warmth to each other and dazzled dizzy when we were held by each other's wounded skin splits soft and sewn but warm inside. she was everything i could take below rena's throne but just enough to give me shelter. the rest you know. the rest i've lived. the rest i've wanted back if only to pretend to be a human being under no suspicion for my impurity. the rest was up to me to be for sua but i didn't have it in me to resist my own need to bandage my soul with brown sugar in my veins. too much to resistance. like i've learned, it's beyond human for me to resist the temptation of self-medicating when it's put in front of me and encouraged by someone who tells me how special and loved i am by her. i deserve nothing ever again but i'll spend my life becoming better to make it up to those who've still stuck with me.
just now, adriana told me she loves me after i said i loved her for thinking of me and being so kind to ask. everything is okay for now. even as i cry, as i mourn, and as i wish this day would be past my very being. i wish more than all i could put to words that i would have so much more to show who i am than any of this... to make it up to her, to make it up to sua, to make it up to rena... to everyone... and make them proud that i was selfish in being stolen from suicide a few times over. i'll do my very best to wipe the wet soil from my eyelids and crawl from the coffins as always, nobody ever looking but me, and yet i do it all for others to be proud of who i am and believe in who i could be. there's much more to me than flaunting the kitty scratches that depression decorating my body and wording such to be read by no others in manic typing to catch the abstract images in my head. there is much more to who i am but i never feel i deserve to show others. i've sought to pursue creative goals so i could point to something that is wholly mine as if it were my unborn child. i wish i had it in me to leave everything upon a positive place but it would feel unnatural to assemble something pretty from nothing. just believe in me because i'm not too proud to admit that i would be profoundly helped by others if i gave them the chance.
i've cried writing this entry but anything meaningful is worth suffering if you believe in it. i believe in her, i believe in rena, i believe in sua, i believe in momo, and i believe in living if i could find my place in it. it's just a gunshot away. it's just a kiss away. it's just a memory more.
i know that someday, everything will be alright.
stayed up all night dizzied and half-dressed with kiku sprawled out on my bare girlish legs meditating on core rewrites upon my medicine taking me for most of the day. sleepyheaded and melancholic me couldn't wait to get to work this early morning in reworking my extended treatment and opening up so many more thematic possibilities and creative wiggle room than before. i'm much happier with where i'm going but i know i'm way too emotionally invested in it (so i gotta hurry hurry finish) but i've already drawn up half-finished treatments for a handful of other 100+ page scripts to bang out. doctor assures me i'll become accustomed to these pills soon and it's certainly much better than compromising for neurontin or other epilepsy medicine that i couldn't stand before. for fuck's sake, all i can associate with neurontin (gabapentin) is that up-all-night prettied agony i spent as a kittenish secret in sua's bedroom gorging on chocolate-coated coffee beans 'til a morning time delivery of oxy shots finally bringing heaven through my veins alongside lolita scents climbing me higher and higher and higher. it's astounding to realize that not only have i had to somehow work my way around depression, complex trauma (which i've been told is an actual PTSD diagnosis (sigh)), and catatonic anxiety, but i've been infected by cellular voltage paralyzing my brain every so often. it only takes one time after so long in fear of it to cripple my confidence that i can be a whole and functioning adult after all. i'm more scared than anything to drive my new little nissan hatchback and hurt somebody upon being caught by a wayfare to electric avenue. in fact, one of my therapists was puzzled at this idea of how i'm apparently so extraordinarily *wrist wave* compassionate to other human beings but outright distrustful of them at the same time. unfair deaths, sex abuse, heartbreak, and child rape will do that. i didn't have it in me to word it precisely because it makes little sense. i love all that humanity could and should be but hate it for what it is - except when it's not - like when a lolita purrs into my life and finds her way toward los angeles to my embrace. that's when i fall in love yet soar up always higher and higher and higher.
i was invited to audition in a stage musical production in san francisco even though i have no voice to sing. it's not something i'm up to openly tell other people because it'll go nowhere and i'd be embarrassed if anyone ever found out i showed up on stage to sing a number that was on videotape! i'll say no more but i'll say this... it may have had something to do with doing one of my favorite shiina ringo and composer neko saito number that i not only did my best to sing but even performed on stage with a microphone clutched by my fingertips in my showtime vibrato in G-key. you may think i don't know music but i grew up with it. i only got away with the audition because i was recommended by someone so dear as a "talented actor" ^____^ and i took a head shot for an agent a few months ago that sucked me of $200+. even so, that means i'm okay at acting, not that i can sing (for fuck's sake...) and i sure as fuck cannot pretend to do the latter even if i have amateur valley boy charm on my side and sworn on my wrists which is why i won't get called back. my voice is too ill with teenage cigarette smoke and hopelessness to be brought to a virginal audience as any dressed-up beauty without a pale priestess' blessing. fuck all of it. i'll take an acting gig and audition proper when i return to my birthplace of los angeles, find a sinful agent on the side of sin as i, and i'm good enough to do it as i would ever be. even so, my passion is nuzzled with writing and scripting, being creative with the written word as a respectable artist, and acting is left to the best liars to whom i'm infatuated and inevitably belong. it was an experience to pretend like i was something special on stage.
on that note, it turns out i'm actually a porno star. it's meaningless. all of it meaningless. my engorged crotch is exposed and the rest of my skinny but muscular body is flaunted on videotape in all its pallid flesh and body breathless. not exactly something i can throw in my film school portfolio but i'll take any of it. san francisco is a fucked up place (in a good way) and once in a while mimics the warmest gutters of west hollywood. still mourning 'til here knows when and since sought to stay pure and untouched for her unless another sincere love like rena ever wanted me again. maybe never that way but rena is forever my best friend and purest love as one could entwine their soul to another. we have a special relationship that is beyond the planes of sex or romance. we've transcended to a higher enlightenment of love and we're good where we are for now and ever. that's how you live life after you've already lived it, i guess. i'm still in love and never with anyone else again. the rest of my is permanently destroyed and i deserve nothing better than what i carelessly lost before. i've since taken an unholy baptism of chastity to love and fuck only those with whom i've fallen in love before and never anyone new since sua was imagined away and i've held myself to it. resisted a time or two and still have one lovestruck quasi-stalker who is still circling the seas even after i told her the way it is. the vow was sworn after the fuck vid which was quite a while ago. it's a promise to myself and everything that really matters to me which is what's left of my dignity and purity as a human being. i've already been raped, fucked, used, exploited, knifed, abandoned, mutilated, unloved, and stolen from the heavenly oceans of suicide once or twice, but i believe in love more than anything in the world as it's saved me in so many ways (and still does). it's all i have left but believe in more than all. with that said, i'm content with jerking off in mourning for the rest of my life unless one of my always loves ever comes back to my life. is there are more sincere devotion than that? that's love, love.
wrote a whole paragraph here about my family name being dragged through the soil and draped by the sort of nightmares i couldn't have imagined would befall us but that's better left private. it's kept me awake, alive, and alone to know he is charged with the sort of thing that ruined all i could've and should've been since i was a little kid. i can't get over it. even my mom has vaguely asked me about the abuse i suffered to know if he was involved in any way at all (he wasn't) and it's beyond my capacity to function and dwell on it for even a hastened moment. all of it is beyond fucked up and nobody knows what to believe even if we're doing our best to support him. it has ruined so much and could ruin everything else. these are the sort of times i wish i was a lapsed catholic so i could have a faith to take up again... but i never had one since the beginning. i'm in love with catholicism and gnosticism but i don't have it in me to let go and be taken by any of it. i'm a lifelong atheist in need of faith but i'm too beyond it and never ever had it in me because i had my purity stolen from me in the most violently grotesque way as a little boy anyway. i knew i would never fit in with god and no choir of angels would want me. even when i'm best on my knees.
that's a lot of fucked up information and secrets poured on here for one entry, isn't it?... i have little else to say beyond all of this. i took a couple cigarette breaks while composing this entry, swallowed a few of my prescription pills, and queued up a kuroyume record to which i'm nodding my head as the kitty sleeps between my girlish little legs. i have a headache, i'm super aroused and hard, but i don't know what to really feel anymore. like i said, everything is fucked up and i have nobody to actually talk about it aside from rena whom i really don't wish to burden any further. i wake up each morning murmuring my sincere prayer to sua and how much i love her and want her to be happy that day, i cradle kiku, i'm excited to have momo again to remind me of her, i type out my feelings to rena, i dress myself, i exercise my body, and i make up my own meaning as i go. i embrace depression as it comes and learn a new way i could've been better to those i loved and lost. it's my forever curse. then fucked up things befall my family that the rest of us don't deserve. i'll selfishly suffer a seizure and feel awful about it for stressing out everyone. i dream and dream about a new life and new start far and away from here while there is life left in me. i regret the flattering mistakes i took part and write about them here without a flavor of embarrassment to ruin it. i'll remain a ruined and used-up virgin. i'm still in love and want nothing else even if i won't have it again. it isn't nearly enough to make it up but it's a start. it's the least i can do.
everything is a fucking nightmare around here and i have to find my way more alone than ever. only momo can save me now.
will write later although i promised i would before, this new prescription medicine has a habit of keeping me hostage under slow sedation as i become used to it, and i put my woken hours toward the finish line of completing the draft of my spec script. struck to the floor by a big seizure not so long ago, talked out of a 911 emergency call, but i saw my doctor so it should be okay. stress, anxiety, and overwhelming pours of depression act as the catalyst and i've never gone out of my way to illustrate that my experience with those three things is different from other people. my weekly therapists was highlighting that for me recently and it grew to be one of those things i'm so used to that i forget to tell others that it affects me potently precisely because i feel things in a life-or-death shock. it's a lifelong symptom of complex trauma which i've had to embrace to 'get better' and work with her and others. it was never fair to sua and others to be a catatonic mess and cognitively shut down and let them believe i'm just sensitive and incapable of handling things like an adult. maybe i can't compared to others but i'm only now realizing how far i went out of my way to work against myself by being so reluctant to be bound as a victim and color myself useless if and when it overflowed to drown me. yeah... i'm learning little by little to accept everything to grow rather than only stand still to be wounded, but i am becoming better for it as softening as it has proved to be for my mental health. i'm also rambling and rambling and being a self-deprecating mess! that always happens...
SO ANYWAY i'm going to make my way to the other room and work in final draft on my brand-new laptop further since i need a variety of sceneries than hold myself hostage in my bedroom to wither in monotony. kiku has become very happy and follows me everywhere now, curls up affectionately against my legs as we both sleep through the night time, and very soon i'll have momo here with me!! i'm so excited to have her again but i'll treat both kitties with as much love i have left in me which is forever much. i keep a portrait of sleepy momo in her kitty bed near my old apartment window on my FB profile to keep me believing in times of my life i miss more than anything. my lost-and-found momo who used to flaunt and bounce around when her mommy tied pink ribbons on her, my lolita princess who would nap next to me on the futon we shared, and giving her kisses she never knew i gave her. i miss it all and having momo around me will do so much to give me shelter from the sort of slow novella tragedy i feel like i'm living too often.
back to work. xmas holidays are over, school is finally done, so i'll hop back on pursuing the rest of everything that puts me back where i belong. i'll write in here more often and keep up to date how my medicine is working for me and everything else i can.
i am here but held captive by the sweeping colors of the real world since autumn revealed its messianic figure yet another year, and it's led me astray, leashed and unlucky, and it's my prettied way of saying a lot of dramatic happenings have... happened. i can only do my sincere best which i've gone about and i'll return to write more. this new medicine has been tricky in finding the dosage line and i only just began taking this prescription since having a big seizure last monday night so that's had me stumble since then. i'm putting in good work on IJAK treatment, outline, and spec script and i'm almost done drafting the whole structure, scene breakdowns, and acts. i'm still up in the air about linearity and whether i want to go in a different direction as opposed to straightforward storytelling. i'm almost there. so thankful for the interstellar soundtrack in profoundly helping me in every which way.
rena just called, i'm on the phone with her, so i'll take my leave i was about to take anyway and come back to really write more as i'm set to see my other therapist tomorrow early afternoon @ 1pm, so i'd really like to gush what i could to help prepare me a little more. staying strong, staying alone by choice, and i'd rather keep being depressed all the time if it lets me dream of you when i'm in need of rescue. bless your perfumed papillon soul. see you one neptune orbit later ( ´Д｀)ﾉ~ﾊﾞｲﾊﾞｲ
i couldn't hear it but there must be a childlike loneliness that rings sleigh bells from the empty cavity where my soul would swirl. the theory of everything, i used to call it, the grand unified reason for my very being as a marvelous symphony of words, numbers, dates, and names to tell me why i exist the way i can't help. my insides hurt so much more than they would due to trauma therapy ripening my pastel pale flesh like fruit bathed in wet summertimes aroused by impure thoughts of another earth to touch. aside from rena, there isn't anybody left to shyly reach toward to tell me i exist as a human being of any worth than the ghost of a dead boy. just like today, just like this, there was an october upon being conned to make my move back to southern california for a girl that gave me up less than a few days after. i hadn't yet met sua nor believed she wanted me and a saturday met my body succumbed to the slow butcher of a honey bled agony pouring a taste from my brain to my throat i wished would've strangled the life left in me. i guess nothing has really changed, has it?... at least then i had the excuse of being youthful and i was unknowingly gifted with a very special human being who would make her little lolita way to be the love of my life upon one chance rendezvous together. oh my little girl, my kittenish troublemaker who lit the fire of my loins, i wish more than anything in the whole wide world i could've made it to you whole rather than as the emotionally damaged older boy who took a battering of traumas, abuse, and distrust weaved in me as i am. we still fell in love, didn't we?... i think i may have even been your first but it never mattered to ask because i found a soulmate in the figure of a loli in girlish dresses, my costa rican princess, and to me, it made you my first and my last and forever. the only thing that ever mattered was that we found each other and i felt special for the first time in so long because you made me believe i was too.
now i'm reincarnated in replay of that saturday night purgatory and would feel foolish in ever believing happiness would save me again since it could only be you - and you decided to kiss me the last night before you left me forever a day after without ever telling me why. still, i've learned to nestle seeds within my delicate subconscious to incubate dream sceneries to traverse as an untangled alternate therapy to help with own traumas, but here and there i pour what serotonin has survived to draw and recreate the sensation of your scent in my brain. i guess it may come off as creepy but it's a sincere plea to know the last vestiges of your affection that meant so much to me when it often felt we were the last two lives left in the universe. i love and miss you very much but i would rather you have all the happiness in the world if it means i would have none for me after all. i don't really deserve it but you do since i wouldn't put it to very good use the way you would anyway.
i guess there's no use in engaging in this sort of therapy of delusional hope such words will ever find her and perhaps that's for the best. both my therapists surprised me with encouraging this behavior upon sharing it with them for one reason or another, and i guess that speaks to the extremes of what they have to work with, huh? if only because each and every doctor or therapist i've had to treat me wouldn't have done so. then again, they only saw me to label vague diagnoses like "schizoaffective disorder" which i've learned not to believe in anymore; they used it as an excuse to cage me as a guinea pig for all sorts of lucrative mental health drugs. you can kind of tell by their eagerness to give you sample boxes to take home, suspiciously bypassing the usual routine of prescriptions and pharmacy pickups, and the fact i never really got better. i'm grateful to have two therapists after having no such means for years and years during my whole relationship era with sua (sigh...) and one especially has taken to me in a concerned and caring way i've never encountered before. she'll take initiative to patiently understand while i assemble the hesitant words hummed in trembling tones, and since the last few sessions has coaxed and convinced an extremely reluctant me to accept i'm a trauma victim. she insists it's something i need to embrace for myself (i wouldn't ever go around telling people i am one) so i could get better. what's only most vividly uncomfortable is the other side of her coaxing such as paying me compliments to being intelligent, creative, and even went so far as to persuaded i was "gifted" to explain my lifelong consistency of school boredom (i earned my high school diploma and graduated early), social isolation, and the unique way i put thoughts together and express them. to me such positive-seeming labels are meaningless, they're words on paper, because they've never helped me as a person for anything and even if they're halfway true, such labels have invitably only contributed to my inability to find happiness or peace within myself. obviously she concedes there's a convoluted melt where being supposedly "gifted" begins and the lingering affects of childhood and adolescent traumas end so it's as meaningless as i ever believed it was as a youth.
she is very caring for me and i know she is sincere in so much of what she says. she even email me once in a while to read pamphlet-like articles on the net and it dawned on me very recently i wouldn't ever perform a simple web search up to now for reasons i can only attribute to mental blocks. i wouldn't know how to explain mental blocks even if i have a some for a few separate subjects... it's entirely beyond your conscious thoughts and it's like a defense mechanism of your brain to stay far and away from invading your cognizance to spare you the hurt. the other day she sent this brief article on the effects of complex traumas and it genuinely shocked me how so much of what it says, often word for word, summarizes exactly the way i've lived, reacted, and learned to exist. even now the overflowing urge to cry is receding in a tidal wave sensation to burst inside me knowing how much hurt, confusion, and ruin that could have saved myself but more importantly sua's understand of me if only i had the strength to just look up these things to read about them. now i know. so now i will put on my bravest face against the everyday loneliness and unwanted isolation to make it to the finish of my last dream to make her proud of me again. the way she said she was proud of me before. along with visiting rena in new york, those are the only things left that matter to me anymore.
sadly this ribboned knifing of my insides throughout this replayed day has paused my creative output for my work so much of what matters left to live is predicated upon. although i've completed the first draft in formatted screenplay format of a handful of pivotal scenes and shots, i'm much more focused on perfecting the heart of my work: the extended scene breakdown. it's much like the whole foundation and skeletal structure of everything that professionals must complete before settling on drafting the final screenplay within the rigid industry format that is expected. however, the extended scene breakdown is the most time-consuming, creatively agonizing, frustrating, and difficult part of the entire process, but for me it's the most rewarding. although very lately i've been stricken with a fever of near-suicidal loneliness and worthlessness impeding the output for my work, there's an emotional and creative liberation in being pet and kissed on the lips by cherubic muses in their lip flavors of inspiration that mirrors no sensation i could compare for all i've explored and conquered as an inner space cosmonaut. excitedly, i found a (hopefully) working torrent for final draft 9 for windows as i've been stuck using a pirated 8 that is worn and ill of compatibility issues and slowdown. i haven't had it in me to undergo the stress of the installation process but i'm anticipating it will have at least one expanded or new feature to assist me in constructing my cinema stories the very same way an architect needs the very best software to assemble his dream structures for others to see.
bittersweet note: i've had to let go of emily from the last two of those i put my trust in as she invited and for one reason or another, she felt there was more in it for her to betray me over and over. i have no desire to rant on about it in any attempt to magnetize sympathy, asking why someone i embraced so close as she convinced me would choose to purposely hurt me when she knows just where i'm wounded (so many of them end up doing it), but i'm enormously more hurt to accept she is not a good person for a lollipop bouquet of flavors i knew before but wouldn't believe. she has nothing to lose by losing me forever but i choose to take a higher road and prove there's value in being a better human being than putting her down in my own words. i was cowardly in putting my head down and letting go her behavior that obviously sought to hurt me while maintaining a pattern of nonchalant deniability (why do people think they're so clever and the first to do this?), but i loved her as a friend and felt desperate enough to believe i could let it go for the sake of a relationship where i would go out of my way to offer her help even if i was hurting so much but hiding it away to not burden others. when it boils away, i know i can't let someone swell the bruises that inhibit me from even pretending to live a normal life the way i imagine other human beings taken for granted, even if that means accepting a further descent into the madness of complete isolation to escape pinpricks inflicted by liars indulging their wide-eyed fun. fuck all that. i may not believe i'm worth much of anything as a person if anything at all, but i still have it in me to at least pretend i have some sense of dignity and morality. like i said, i may not be worth anything as a person, but i believe very strongly in being a good one. she is simply not a good person as painful as that thought is to accept for how much i've unquestionably been there to always offer my help, including wiring her money and mailing her an expensive $80 bracelet all the way from here to toronto. if she ever received it, she never thanked me for it, but last time she went out of her way to complain it hadn't arrived yet, so maybe karma is real and they lost it along the way. all i know is i lost a friend i loved, trusted, and depended on more than ever lately because of my current condition and compounding issues, and it reinforces how little value i have even to those dearest to me whom i always did my best to help and make happy.
at least i feel proud for rescuing myself from the anguish and chain smoking by composing this entry with the will to finish all the feelings that rule me as i write, no matter how embarrassed i feel for others to capture these words for themselves. this isn't the way i pretend to be for others, i assure you, especially IRL i put on an act you would never guess is disguising the near-suicidal worthlessness pervading each metronomic gush from my heartbeats. more than likely because i feel no urge to mask my shyness anymore but also because i love wearing my dior homme sunglasses to evade others from glimpsing my true being through these big bright eyes. acting is all in the eyes as i know and as you may know now.
i barely eat at all anymore but i keep up my crunches and other exercises to stay out of reach sedentary madness for the sake of having a body in all its pale pure purring a lean and slender fragility. i recently realized i'm the exact same height (173 cm) as ryutaro arimura, vocalist of plastic tree (my favorite band since i was a teenager), and for one reason or another that cheered me up a little. we are a very similar physique and build although my shoulders are a bit broader and i have deliciously toned abs on my tummy only all for me. unhealthy chain smoking, fetal blanket cuddling all through each and every day of late, crippling depression, and losing the love of my life and the rest of any life i could call my own, there's still hope in me after all, to keep going just a little more. i told others no matter how bad i got that somehow i learned how to survive the very worse and keep it secret inside me since being a little boy. i wish this break of light fractured by the tree blossoms and autumn cider sepias would always pull me away from the gravity tangling me down but i'm overjoyed i can still feel a little good if only for a few precious moments. to whom these words may ever find, thank you with warmth always. thank you for your love.
i've put in less creative work in my project than i planned the day before but mercy was taken on me in the form and flavor of benzos to cradle me far and away from my own memory⇉replay. still, there's never a day am not on the artsy move and i've been successfully exploring some new story directions for my script, namely evoking that wondrous curiosity of what could exist in space in a clever way that won't distract or rocket away from the grounded psychological direction of the story. i never lose sight of wanting to draw the architecture of what i've always to see on film and take advantage of my unique way i see the world for the sake of art. it could be one benefit of having to live the way i've had, can't it? nobody else has a perception, creative aptitude, or introspective comprehension of emotions identical to me, and i can use all of these things that have muzzled my potential to be happy to create art the way i love the most. being proud of your own art is better than any drug sipped by my body from the girlish fingers of a lolita love.
upon another early morning hour today, i trembled awake to cry (i know... sigh) and smoked a cigarette under the umbrella of rainy gray heavens above me. rena had written me a few paragraphs of reply to my pretending to type to her while she really slept, which was gracious of her to do and even let me be when am desperate to breathe into my lonely void. some of what was said to me helped keep cryogenic my sulking eyelids. thank you for all of your words to assure and lift me, little rena. you are my child of spring. "you feel worthless because of all the horrific trauma you have endured. it isn't a label that actually exists to define yourself with. it's something you've been told to feel because how people have used and abused you. it isn't what you deserve at all. you deserve all the love, affection, care, happiness, stability, and health in the world. you really do."
sua never used me but my fatal error was letting her put the sort of drugs she did in front of me. the pills and honey tar flushed me out, blanketed me in a wool warmth that melted sleepiness and euphoria, and the encouragement it was okay came from the same girl that told me how special i was to her. she couldn't have known and shouldn't have had to know the breadth of damage inside me which leashed me vulnerable to self-medicating in a ritual that was also an affection expression because she fixed me up to make the pain go away. i fell for a teenage girl who seemed so sure of everything, so sure of herself, so sure of the world, and i was too taken by my emotions to be what she deserved who was someone to rescue her from drugs. rena is right, i'm a trauma and abuse victim, and she's known more than anyone of my past even if she was never told the other half. if you're too young to know any better and follow only your heart when it's captured as a trauma victim put in front of drugs by the love of your life who tells you how special you are as a person, you indulge, you indulge together, and it feels the love and habit are entwined like two lonely flowers embracing each other as they bloom. autumn was the end of us. i wish more than anything i could have rescued her from it in the very beginning even if it meant i would have lost her forever. i miss her so much. i know i'll make her proud of me someday.
it's a very lonely life as if my way to happiness is comatose and broken, but my memories and inspiration are looped in a lily chou-chou tone tremolo. my heartbeats ring in arabesque no. 1 in e-major...呼吸
EXT. INDUSTRIAL PARK - DAY
A distant figure captured in silhouette hurries across the sunset scenery in panicked steps along a chain link fence.
We tilt up from a home pregnancy test thrown on the emerald grass to reveal an adolescent girl who is clutching the fence with her fingers as her legs collapse to the soil as her bag . From her POV we can see a dusk horizon coalescing against a modest town through the chain link fence as the cacophonous rhythm of her panicked breathing becomes overwhelmingly audible. A flock of birds flies away as we pan upward from the obstruction of the fence to follow their way toward the distance as the loud breaths dissipate. We capture her expression and sullen eyes fighting against the contortion to cry. Her lips curl.
The girl is seen gathering the contents of her spilled bag to make her way across the desolate industrial park as her eyesight is locked downward and her bag swung around her body. We focus on a close-up shot of the pregnancy test left abandoned on the ground as she walks away off-focus in the background. The test indicates two lines for positive.
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
pasted an opening shot of my first draft of i'm just a kid to show i've been creating and crafting in FD 8 these past plain days. so much will be reworked when i complete the draft, i'm not quite there yet, but i will traverse to pages written a time ago to pretty up and sculpt for seamless storytelling. noriko's dinner table by sion sono is a particular film that has inspired much of the cinematic aesthetic i've sought to capture, but i've pursued my way absent of any narration or steady voice overs as his film relies so heavily upon. there's always been a flavor of melancholy in japanese cinema that has always gravitated me; relating very often to the solemn loneliness so many of the protagonists struggle in those stories and doing their best to make sense of their place in the world around them. i'm just a kid is less that but draws upon those elements in a skeletal way. it is much more a story in the vein of psychological terror brought to the life of a teenager for her lie that takes advantage of the sort of madman character i'm left to imagine being summoned by the plot. for me, clever storytelling is drawn by erupting emotional aesthetics and visual cues than dialogue - why wouldn't it? - we all lie when we speak to present an image of ourselves we want others to see. the world is populated by liars. through the perception of a teenage girl, we must empathize with her arrogance she can circumvent the world by believing she knows it so well, but as it unfurls i would like the audience to be led by suspicions they know they feel without explaining why. i've been complimented that my strength in writing has always been heaviest in wording imagery to conjure up emotions to the reader, and i would like to believe they mean it enough for me to have the ability to translate this cinematically where there is much more to explore and take advantage in manipulating an audience. i would like to simultaneously spawn empathy for the way i've grown up seeing the world. this is a good start for me. perhaps when i finish, i can shop it around to various places i've already noted for the future, and i'll have an opportunity inviting me somewhere better. i have these great big dreams held in my bigger eyes. i'll make the survivors of knowing me proud, they will pretend to others they still know me, and it'll be rena with whom i'll celebrate because she's kept me as i've kept loyal to her. never romantic again but well always love each other and we tell each other so almost everyday.
i'm off to bask shyly under the cloudy greys for one of my weekly therapy treatments. i know i will struggle to keep composure having to tell the truth of where i've been dragged this past handful of days but it's okay after all. i'll tell more of it, hopefully good things, perhaps even something mildly interesting, after i come back soon. i don't mean to parade this seemingly new label of being a "trauma victim" but i've come to be assured it best encapsulates the way i am and why i've made the choices i have. it wasn't a term i've ever embraced but both of my therapists have told me i need to acknowledge it so i can get better. rena has encouraged this as well. it's not shameful, so they say, but i refrain from describing myself that way (if at all) beyond here in the sheltered desolation of my own journal. elsewhere beyond here, i am who i am, introverted by always willing to pretend i am okay for the sake of acquaintances and strangers feeling no suspicions or sympathy for me. i don't think i deserve anything like that. i only want others to treat me as if i'm worth something, whether it's because they like the works of my creativity like what i've been writing, who i am as someone worth being smitten or loving, or worth the trouble of wanting to know a little about who i am inside. i won't believe it for myself otherwise but i'm holding out hope for the future. it's unattractive, i know, lack of confidence and all, but i'm good at pretending too. i'll be late for therapy if i don't put on something warm and make my way out; i'll come back to share more. it helps a lot in leading a life of lonely isolation. quarantined. sheltered. saved for better somedays. captured in a cryogenic lock box to rebuild my insides. pure again. au revoir, kitten puffs.
(please download + watch sion sono's noriko's dinner table (torrent URL!) if you're able. it's a prequel to suicide club by the same director chronicling the origin story of the two girls who ended up captured by genesis in the latter film.)
i don't know if you'll ever read this, probably not, but i didn't mean to have you take care of me when depression would take me. so much of it was poisoned by our addiction in such an inescapable depth i knew we couldn't escape until we separated from each other. i was too weak, too scared, too consumed to do the right thing and leave for the good of us. i didn't protect you from the drugs in the first place after you had your accident and you began living in my little apartment. it hurts me each day to know i gave you the worst of me so often because i took you for granted as awful as that is to admit. you were up to do so much for me because i thought you loved me but i wasn't used to any of that, i didn't trust it, and i never told you why. i still haven't really told anyone. there's no excuse for not being the best i could have been for you each and every day, the way you made me feel so special and would tell others how much i am, and there's little i can do to make it up anymore. i hope you know it eats me alive each day in regret but the best i've done is understand all of the things that hurt to bear about myself and have dedicated to changing the parts of myself you were forced to bear too. even if i never see or hear from you again, i wish you'll know i'll always love you, and if you can't forgive me for my mistakes, please know i'm sorry.
if you could, can you remember something for me?... how i was, how we were, before the drugs ruined me and ruined everything. how excited and ecstatic no one had ever seen me when drew and i picked you up from long beach airport to spend new year's eve with all of them in LA. your first visit when we met each other up until i took you to train station in LA, barely knew each other but held our bodies close never wanting your train to arrive to take you back home. the day we spent in oakland upon my arrival here to make up a life to be with shy little you. little adventures in berkeley, san francisco, and panicked sneaking in and out of your parents' house. you knew me for who i was inside, little puff, before i gave in to hurt myself in cyclical rapture with the drugs in an everlasting pursuit to numb myself further and further. the money gone. the opportunities eroded. everyday in monotony, my creative output dead, and i didn't try anymore. i know we could've had so much and built a nice life with each other had i had it in me to protect you the way i meant and give you the happiness you gifted me. even so, i never let go of a day without reminding you how beautiful you are, how much i loved you, kissing your lips, holding you, because i felt you didn't realize how gorgeous and special you are. i should have taken care of you and not the other way around. i know everything i did wrong and kept doing when i knew it. if i still have a soul left in my chest, i would sell it to give you anything in this world to make you happier regardless if you knew it was from me. i only wish you thought about me long enough to know who i am by the memories you gave me from an era before we senselessly self-medicated in bruising entropy. i was someone you cried overwhelmingly when you told me you loved me and held each other ever after as we napped against our breaths. i want to believe for a little while, even if it was forever ago, you loved me once and i was something meaningful to you. i love you and i only want you to be happy, sua. i'm sorry i didn't do my best for you even if i wasn't good enough in the end. if only you knew how much i've hurt each day since you found a brighter part of the earth, perhaps you would know how much you meant to me. i love you so much. i only ever wanted to know you loved me once. i only ever wanted to make you happy and for you to know how much i loved you more than anything. i only ever wanted you. please forgive me someday.
it took me a cigarette and a half to write this to punctuate the supernova sensation of a million starlights becoming teardrop galaxies soaked by my clothes. i don't want to rewrite it, much less read it whole, and leave it be regardless of the awkwardness it's written. it's pure. what i wanted to be since i was a child. i've come a very long way from where i was but as much of a depressed kid character i resemble in a blue hued storybook, others don't know nearly everything. i don't know if my lungs could ever find the breaths to feed my brain to put it to prettied words someday but it's why i'm seeing two separate therapists to work with me. only those like rena who have known me longest have told me they've known i've suffered emotional damage from multiple traumas and child sexual abuse. i don't think even sua or anyone else has understood that part about me enough, although it wouldn't be their fault. i can't hide depression. i can't hide symptoms although they may not have been what i've been diagnosed but i was recently told they could've been chronic symptoms of temporal lobe epilepsy which i was coincidentally diagnosed a year and a half ago. i don't know if that's true but i kind of hope it is. anyway, i couldn't so much hide those things but i could hide how damaged i really am inside, and i've only learned in recent treatment why i've been hiding away since i could bubble thoughts to recollections. there wasn't only one instance of extreme trauma, there was one in childhood and two others dotting my life at 17 and then at 20, and each year since i was 9 has been tinted in mellowed pastels of sexual assault, exploitation, death, worthlessness, disintegrated self-esteem, and selling off my humanity until reality swirled back into itself. as much as i've mimed being "okay" to others, chronic bouts of depression aside, nobody around me could comprehend what that could do to a person unless they live with it the way i have in the very years i was learning the world around me. i was receiving disability benefits the first go-around (filing for SSI usually takes multiple rejections you have to keep fighting) but i ceased all of that after a little over a year, so i could do my best to live a normal life. i've always wanted to be like everyone else, make them proud of me, because i could never feel worth anything to myself. that is why i've always sought feeling worth loving. i'm learning little by little in treatment but they both assure me not to be so hard on myself, reminding me i'm a trauma victim since childhood who has kept the worst inside me, and articulate how much potential i "obviously" have that i've never learned to use. i've never cried for myself in therapy, only for her when i talk about her.
this has been more therapeutic than expressing any coherent meaning. i don't imagine anyone reads who i am here but i would hope they don't assume me to be some sickly mess if they saw me. only so lately have i ceased really eating again but i intermittently exercise, mostly crunches, throughout the day to break apart the sedentary habit of my life lying fetal on this bed on her laptop. i even like my body (mostly) and proud i have my physique as i did when i met her. when i thought i would be desirable if i made myself that way, abs again, feed me your kiss. i've only met a handful of people like myself but most of them have passed away. i lost them a long time ago and have felt tremendous guilt for being alive and only being proud when i was with sua. it still hurts me now and likely will forever. perhaps everything always will but i am learning. if there is something i can be proud of about myself, it's surviving with a will inside me to better myself for the future if it will have me, and even as lonely and isolated as i've had to live, against my best efforts, i want to make those i care about proud of me. i don't know if i've given up meaning anything to myself but maybe in this life, i'll find where i belong by being worth loving again. i promise to share positive parts of my life as they happen than feeling hesitant to share.
君とはじめて出会った日のことを今でも覚えています。with warmth always. i love you.
fizz pop pixy rena had telephoned me a last afternoon of fuzzy day greys, kindling a peach pink warmth that brought sad little teenage me to feelings of happines i hadn't yet known existed. eventually i shared my idea that once i am settled back in los angeles, we could explore the idea of finding her an agent to set her up with voice work gigs as hers is uniquely endearing, moe melodic, and a high pixy pitch. she needs to assemble a portfolio first thing first and she told me she had already lent her voice talent to fan-made doujin works. of course there is a little more to it, she needs to really put in her own pace of work toward learning, honing, refining, and practice practice practice to be at the sort of level to compete for professional gigs. in my heart i know she could do it; the only task in the way is sculpting her everyday will to stick to it as a pursuit she believes in and believes in herself. she's not so used to that sort of thing, little everyday structure, and her illnesses such as narcolepsy often get in the way of her productivity and will. i think at the very least, she's owed someone to devote their energy to helping her find her place in the world, something meaningful to her, something that takes advantage of her talents and picks her special, and give her a reason to keep going. she could do it. i promised i'll do everything i can while i'm alive to help her because she means a lot to me regardless if we're "together" again someday or never. she deserves it and i know she's capable if given the support and encouragement she's never given, a helping hand dedicted to her as much as she helped me in our youth, and to make all of us proud. only more reason to leave the bay area forever as quickly as i can make my way, bring my momo cat with me, and restart⇒replay my life over from scratch one more time.
so... yeah, i arrived for work at elephant bar supper shift like any other day a few weeks back and found notice the location had closed permanently. it left me panicky and shell shocked. i stumbled in embarrassment until one of the managers stepped outside from a side door to hand me my last check, and nonchalantly offered a non-answer why this happened when i put my murmurs to words. no warning, no hint, no nothing, and i was told patronage was good when i asked during my interview. this manager told me in a rude way that they sent a message last night on hot schedules app, as if it's my fault for not knowing, but i told him i checked the messages before i slept at midnight the night before. he scoffed and said no, i checked my mobile, and it wasn't sent until after 6am - he just scoffed, muttered "yeah, 6am then" and just turned his back on me. apparently the other location in campbell was closed as well. eventually the mercury newspaper published an article online about it... one of my therapists told me straight-up it's illegal for any company in california to close and fire everybody without a 60-day warning if they employee 60+ workers. a class action lawsuit is inevitable but i know something like that won't be settled for years - doesn't exactly help me now - and i was only there a month. i've never heard of that happening to anyone else, where they're hired only weeks before, going good, making money, and show up for work to discover the place is permanently closed without the graciousness to be whisper warned before any of it. that's my luck. that's my life. typical, right... only me. always.
i felt foolish about all of it so i had no feeling in me to write in here. i hadn't had much luck but unlike before when i would melt into my discouragement and depression, eaten up and given up, i've picked myself up even when nobody is looking because i've learned how since the flashpoint of losing everything that meant the world to me without a chance for goodbyes. good news: made my interview at an upscale mexican restaurant in downtown los gatos; i have tryout shift on monday night but it's looking really good (i hope). the place is very cute + classy, neighborhood is bridged by boutiques, and the menu's food + drinks are all organic, homemade, and decently priced for the fare. patrons are mostly business people. the lady, anna, was very nice and down-to-earth but i can tell she expects someone to work hard and know what they're doing. i know i can do it but i guess i'll have to wait til monday to know if i'll be captured back by the orbit that lost me along the way in stray stumbles. my own life back again, far and forever away from here, my kitty trilling to my puckerd purrs under the ceiling our new sleep shelter where we belong, and we can both reset our lives in the world even if we both miss her everyday, don't we,,, (=^・・^=) ﾊｲ､ﾊﾟﾊﾟ! ﾆｬｵ (´;ω;｀) ｲﾂﾓ･･･涙 sigh.
after i undressed and cigarette sucked, rena had me almost crying in misty spurts like honey in the sun... encouraging me in ways i haven't had from anyone in so long, telling me how proud she feels for me for fighting back, not giving up... forgotten how affection could feel as if it was a far gone face i once dreamed in colors never seen before. i'm hopelessly sad all the time, battered by every memory returning, but i have purpose in showing everyone i always had it in me to make them proud all on my own, care for my orphaned cat, and help rena play her natural talents for the life ever wished hers.
ribboned strands of swollen blues are decorating this entry like my world in dream rocket skywrite, i know whose handwriting it's all spelled, and there's my scented cue to say goodbye back. thank you for your love ( ´Д｀)ﾉ~ﾊﾞｲﾊﾞｲ