Oh wow I had a hard time dealing with myself today. I know it's a weird thing that no one understands, but sometimes I just feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. It feels horrible having to hate yourself like that. It's either you sleep, wishing that when you wake up it would go away, or read a book hopefully to distract yourself. I chose the latter. Continued reading 'Hamlet'. I love Shakespeare, though I have no reason why.

I sort of fell in love with Act 1 Scene 5 where Hamlet meets his ghost father. 'Adieu. Adieu. Adieu. Remember me.'

Polonius is a pain in the ass, IMO.

Before that I was all running around looking for things to do to fill up the chaos and emptiness. Sewing machine didn't work, so scraped the idea of making my own bag for the new semester. Tried watching Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind to maybe shed some light over my worries that 'love still exist in this totally fucked up place', got a little tired and gave up. Read a chapter of The Bell Jar but gave up too because I felt hopeless and reading a book written my an author who killed herself doesn't seem like such a good idea. So anyway I realised today was so wasted. I feel no sense of accomplishment whatsoever. I just want to go out. Forget the fact that I am fat or I'm screwed all over or that when I go home I'm going to belch out all my inside because I was upset over something that probably didn't happen.

I think you're scared of me. I write too much. I reveal too much about myself. But like Christine posted on her blog, fuck off, fuck off now if you have a problem with me whining about the issues I have with myself, or that my worst enemy is me and no one else. I'm the only obstacle between me and my non-existant dreams because (1) I think too lowly about myself (2) I lost my confidence along the way (3) I want myself to believe that I am seriously fucked up.

The things I post have no link to one another, whatsoever. My attention is so easily diverted. I'm here and there, walking in circles, busy being sad and having nothing to say. I am an immensely boring individual. I think dying my hair blue would snap me out of this boring phase.

I'm going to keep posting this fucking link to my new painting until i get 100 views damn it.

Labels: blah, books, i'm sorry i can't be fucked