Only By Th Night

Does it feel right t dread th thought of coming t this page and writing everything in repeat, yet feel like I find comfort here, th only place where all my feelings can't be invisible. I keep telling myself t save writing for some other time, anytime, as long as its next Friday. I do that t save myself that feeling I get after each time I write - raw and exposed, cold wind on a deep gash. Vulnerable t walls that close up on me just t bury th sounds of my cries. But that's where I belong, a self-constructed well six feet under where when crawling out becomes too hard, you just call that home altogether.

I went from monsters in my cupboard, t people at corners of my room. From superficiality that enabled me t lock my own reality far away, t nightmares that soon became my reality. And then from pills that took me t a comatose state, and finally t my new reality I loved living. Like birth, death is a solitary experience. But just as much as life could prove t be. From being so afraid that as soon as I stepped out of this place, th sun would burn my eyes and dissolve my skin th way acid would. And when I look at th sky, I see th stars, so beautiful but all burnt out too quickly. But I never saw th light, it was always darkness. Th only light I could ever see, was when darkness creeped into my sight and multiplied long enough for it t turn into my kind of light. But it was always too dark for light, any kind, t lead me anywhere else. Th blue skies proved one thing t me, it was a sight too calm t be true if you weren't on anything, a blue too pastoral that I could only make out th negativity of it - it wasn't calming and cool t me at all during that point of time. It was ice fuckin cold. I was afraid that if I stepped out, every cell in my body would disintegrate without regeneration, I was afraid that claws would reach down t dig into my flesh, shackles t my limbs. I couldn't let that happen, so I stay in this place, a sanctuary, my solitude - not so different from death. All day, everyday, I could speak t walls that heard me, th air would sway w me, not so much th other way around. Because this was my world, anything was possible. But my world did nothing t save me, it wasn't really a sanctuary, I just called it that t make myself feel better that I had somewhere, another world t go t, after brushing against filthy air th real world had t offer. Th air in my world was clean, its atmosphere th Garden of Eden. I also invented a time machine in this place, it took me back t years ago, t when I would've never saw myself here. And I loved reliving a past so untangled, where everyone cared and th only fear I could really have, if I even did, was growing up - being entangled. Nostalgia. So nostalgic I could cry about how so much has changed. But horrific phases come t pass eventually, my perplexed mind still saw blue skies, but this time they were blue skies smiling at me.

Grime washes away, but it always adheres. It always stains. Why not place a pretty little rug t fade it away from th world? A world which is a playground of illusion. A fool's paradise it most certainly is. But even th most still of night could always generate wind strong enough t hurl that pretty little fuckin rug out th window. Th demon could experiment on my mind come dusk. That's darkness.

What's th deal w darkness though? I sort of like it. It may have stripped me of my soul once, or twice, or maybe thrice. But I always found my way back t th part of me that had a sense of immortality. Some days it feels like I would never get out of a living hell, standing in between two doors that led t life and death each, neither opening up t let me in. We paint th outsides of our body so beautiful, but on th inside its like dead man's bones. Th hurt builds up like a cancer cell and entangle like a web around th heart. But darkness isn't wanting t die, I may have wanted a new body inside before, but then what would I ever write about? I can't imagine not feeling messed up at all, what a waste of space my mind would be. I can't imagine never being able t wear smeared liners or messy hair, stockings ripped way too much mended w safety pins or frayed sleeves, modified torn clothing and laces, choking studded necklaces and secondhand leather. Defiantly anti-materialistic and everything black. Such a beautiful personification of emotions, clothes are - smeared, ripped apart, torn, choked, fray, unkempt, dark. I think some people never really understand that some clothes are a statement on its own, not t make you look cheap unless cheap is what you aim for. They pair w words ever so perfectly t form an expression, but more often than not they're written in between th lines. But that's fine, because I could wear my emotions down th street but all most people would understand out of it is that I'm most probably weird or some shit.

So I typed a bunch of shit that apparently didn't save. It's 3am and I've decided t try t get t bed since I gotta wake early. But guess what? As soon as I set my alarms and get ready for bed, my mind just fucked me up and told me I should just stay up and write, about anything everything. Anything as long as im conscious enough t think. Fuck I'm kinda pissed what I wrote earlier didn't get saved. Oh well, goodnight.

New day, a good one until now. I had so many thoughts circling my mind when I tried t get some sleep last night. My music tuned down for some reason and I was so caught up w trying t shut out that some screamo music starting blasting just when my playlist decided t start up again, not a good idea t listen t metal while trying t go t sleep. Pretty much got my heart beating faster and paranoid so I did th only thing I could t help me at 3 in th morning - clasped a rosary in my palm and fought my brain trying t make me open my eyes and do everything else other than sleep. Proud t say I fought it easier than usual.

Had a great shoot this morning, got some pretty heels after!! Basically foresee how my day was gonna be as soon as I was on my way t th tattoo shop. Don't understand why I can't get inked happy but more so, I don't understand people. I appreciate advices and stuff, but I hate people telling me what I should do, especially when it does no harm t anybody around me and myself. I fuckin hate it, I was never good w living up t what people expect me t do at times. I lived up near perfectly t anything affecting one's emotions, not absolutely spotless on my part that was, but I always did my best. But this, no I can't especially w what I began t realize at th start of this year. I'll do what I have t, because people are like that. And I can't allow myself t feel left behind at th end, or so stupid I compromised my heart. Given my action, I can feel th tension pretty intensely, no denial there. But I'm staying true t myself, I don't see how that should hurt anybody at all. But I guess t stay true t yourself, you have t accept th fact that sometimes you're just gonna crash and burn. But this is my life, and I'd die smiling.

Finally crawled into bed tonight. Bought a couple of good reads for like less than a pound each or something? Thank you Kindle. And I'm almost done w The Heroine Diaries, probably my favorite book since Veronika Decides To Die. So many good ones, I wish I could read 'em all in one night. I've realized I never really wrote about my day t day events, probably a good start now so I can look back when I develop amnesia or whatever. Kings Of Leon and smokes t calm my mind tonight, very tranquil indeed. Just popped pills t salvage my fuckin immune system, I mean a recommended dosage. I feel sick every other night and I'm close t giving up on my theory of combatting a foreseen flu by taking panadols so I don't wake up w throat like sandpaper and a fuckin clogged up nose. I think my immune system got so used t all this chemical shit that its basically immuned t it just t function well, some paradoxical shit going on there. I feel so in touch w my emotions recently, not like it hasn't always been that way but this week, wow this week got pretty scary so t say. But I like it very much. And I think being sober on it helps a lot, I get t appreciate being one w my emotions. It is alarming though, at how easily I can cry. Anytime, like.. Now. But I feel drunk on my writing a lot of th time, is it even possible t be alive w a massive amount of thoughts toppling over one another per millisecond? Apparently. I suppose a lot of what I feel keeps me alive. I'm so tired, but I can't help staying up in a dilemma on whether I should read or write. And I'm not sure whether I'm being weak or strong at this moment. Strong enough t withstand all these load and still manage t breathe pass an unclogged windpipe but so strung out on this mental exhaustion writing brings. Everything comes at a price they say. I've been writing so much this week, almost anywhere I am at and I've been modelling too. I'm so glad for that, so very raptured and it keeps me really sane.

On a side note, I just got paranoid over that little option that jumps on your screen above a word for spell check. Yupp, that's how fragile my mind is in th dead of night.

Welcome back t life, I woke up t something really beautiful t read. I love long texts. I'm not sure if this is a psychological thing, but I've been falling asleep so easily whilst holding a rosary. Or maybe cause I was just too tired last night. But since I'm always at a war w my mind, it's my turn t fuck it up by making it believe I found a way t make my nights easier.

W all this writing, I think writing a book could actually be something I'd do before I die.

Just got home and th first thing I did was come here. I had a great day, and I am happy. But there's always this thing that's stopping me from traveling full speed on th highway of happiness, leading t eternal bliss. I'm always halfway there. And that thing helps in my understanding of living for th present. If we all lived entirely for th present, eternal happiness would be grasped so much more easily. But no, we're programmed t function w always having t stay in th past longer than we should and worrying about th future more than we should. I'm starting t think my mind has built this barrier restraining all of happiness t pass through. That as soon as i am riding on that highway, my brain releases a defence mechanism causing me t crash.

I'm finally done w The Heroine Diaries. A fuckin ace book for sure. And I can't wait t go down t th office tomorrow, I mean I finally get t start off writing somewhere. And there's people kind enough t allow me t do what I love solely by believing i have a passion. But yknow, all around I see people getting th chance t do what they love, or so they claim be it for th money or th vanity or just t be known. Fuck that shit, it shouldn't be about anything else. Money makes th world go round they say, whoever they are, they're certainly right. But will money ever buy you sanity or appease th demons in your head? Fuck no. I'm so sick of this place, but at least I get t say I have things t my name I've worked hard for and definitely proud of. But living in that era would be settling w contentment. And I have gotten out of this place before t do what I love, but never long enough t explore and enjoy th experience. I may have been one w a mind t frequent my past a lot , but that part of my life, th modelling part, is done for. Not done in a sense that I've given it up, but I've learnt t let go of certain things that have changed, things that will never go back t how they used t be. You see in life when you fall, you have t get back up and carry on. But some things, they don't come w a pause button, it's either a play or stop. And once you hit th stop which you told yourself was just a pause, there's really no rewind. This is where living w th decisions you made come into play. But I think I have t fix it, I have t get out of here and start over before I end my youth. And till then, I don't think I'll ever tear down that barrier preventing me from going full speed on that highway I speak about without crashing somewhere in between.

There's 3 branches t a tree perfectly in my panorama outside my window I always stare at before I go t sleep because it keeps me rooted firmly t my sanity, just like th tree t th earth. I don't know what it is about th night, but I always go in search for visions that could put my heart at ease, just t make it through th night. Because when morning comes, those branches garner no meaning from me at all. I try t make my room my sanctuary but every night I step foot here, I actually enter two rooms at once. Th one in my head - creaking stairs leading up w a turn t th left revealing a door ajar, seeping blood and silence and darkness. And th moment I enter, I'm surrounded w words, so many words circling me. And sometimes I try t stay within th silence because sometimes that's what I need, since listening t music just causes a more vigorous stir on my emotions. Silence so peaceful at first, but my silence doesn't remain. Because soon it turns into a ringing, one so deafening and it drives me t th edge and I try t curl up and deal w it but it affects my sanity way above a level I can control. I close my eyes and concentrate on anything happy, my vision produces a spectrum of colors flashing against one another before finally hitting in th center all at once and bursting into darkness, pure black. I can't deal w silence even if I wanted it. And worse, I can't get out of th room in my mind as soon as I enter it.

It's already Saturday and when tomorrow comes, I would've collated a week's worth of writing. Sticking t my resolution of writing everyday indeed. I've basically written everyday this week, everywhere and I think that's a first or at least in a very long time. But I guess it's time t finish this up(like there's ever an end) since I have other stuff w a deadline t write.

It's 3am again and I'm lying in bed trying t combat this sickness w pills again. Th night sickens me a lot, not just physically I'm sure. I barely wrote today but it feels way longer than it is. Didn't exactly talk t God today, but I was in his presence whilst at a funeral. It suddenly hit me awhile ago, that someday in alignment w fate, my lifeless body will be layed in a coffin for all t pray upon. And by then, I'd just be an empty vessel wearing a smile on my drained face. It's scary t think that I'd break away from my mind someday. Something I've been hopeful for ever since, but something I've gotten so used t. Used t nights that strip me of everything, used t th way my mind functions. I don't think experiencing death scares me, it's leaving behind everything that does, it's not having lived my life t th fullest and accomplishing what I'd set out t. I keep a list of things I'd wanna draw a tick next t signifying one less thing t accomplish before I depart into th hands of my creator. But would that mean I'd never go in peace if my time on Earth doesn't permit th completion of that list? But peace t me simple means shutting my mind out from thoughts engulfing my sanity like w jaws of a shark every other night.

I feel so tired and so sick for my words t even flow smoothly. I just can't concentrate, not tonight. My brains are as clogged up as my nose currently is and all I need t do t take all these load off my chest, is t let go of my consciousness t sleep. But I hope it doesn't stick it's claws into my body and rip out whats left of my sanity. Please be kind t me tonight, my dear mind and I'm sorry blog, I have so much more t write, but I can't fight a fight I so badly wanna lose anyway. I can't hardly open my eyes yet my mind still wants me awake. I'm losing. Goodnight.

God I could cry now. My eyes were barely open, my mind hardly feeding off me. But I heard 2 knocks, and that woke my already awaken but dying body. I'm still not sure if they were knocks for real, or only knocks in my mind. I feel so paranoid, it stole my tranquility produced right before sleep, th way tranquility is produced right before death. I'm scared, keep me safe God.

Last night evidently proved t be a bitch. I'm trying my best t squeeze in writing today given I don't have much t myself. After holding my rosary last night drifted me t slumber, I woke up fine. But as soon as I lifted my head off th bed, my head took me on a whirlwind spiral, I felt drowsy as fuck for some reason. I gotta go now t get ready for my show later tonight, but I'll be back since I've been wanting t write something since yesterday quite badly.

Backstage at my show now and I think it's been quite awhile since th smell of hairspray and an array of makeup has excited me. It feels so good t be back, chilling backstage and even all th waiting. Obviously, I do have a little bit of free time now, and therefore what else t do than t write right. However I'm not feeling in th mood t be emotional right now, not a good time at all. But I'll try my best t compose myself anyhow.

After 2 nights ago, I've realized that I may have a little too much hurt within, and I've yet t let any of it go. I say and I try, but then I just fail. How do people write books about letting go? It's pretty impossible or at least it's just massively hard. Emotional hoarding takes such a huge toll on me and th second I feel like I'm about t break, all I turn t are words. But that's not possible when I'm in th midst of an argument, when I feel like my mind's about t disintegrate and my head explode like a supernova. A little becomes too much for me t handle, and at that moment, I want nothing more than t escape an impending peril my mind's at a risk of. That I just want t curl up at th corner of a room and shield myself from th world and try t break th bonds of insanity within my mind. Or breakdown and when that becomes too much for me t handle, all I can think of doing is edgily pick on my nails or dig my nails into my flesh, or scrap my skin against a wall. Any substitute t pain, as long as it takes me away from my mind. I guess it's safe t say that anytime I'm doing any of th above, it's really just t divert a form of pain inside, t elsewhere. My point is, too much emotional buildup is insanely unhealthy - pun intended. But there's no running away, there's no savior. I just learn t take each night at a time, there's no guarantee tomorrow would come. Hurt doesn't fade away overnight, it stays forever. It may fade in time, but th damage is done and th crack will always be there. It's just a matter of letting go t ease th burden. But if letting go was as easy, I wouldn't be in this state. I just wish I knew where my mind is headed t - where I'm being led t.

So it's 3am, AGAIN. My eyes are burning and I have rashes all around my legs. I just want t sleep and for my coagulated mind and body t separate. But I have t write this article, and I'm gonna complete it whether I have t throw ice water over my head every few minutes t wake myself up or do nothing but write about nothing t do w darkness until 12noon. It's true we have t work hard for th things we want in life, and I really want this - t be able t write for a purpose not involving my state of mind. But time can really be a cunt.

When darkness consumes the starlight, nightmares rule the night. Do we fault for having cared too much? Tonight I'm lost - within th melodies of music, in between never ending thoughts. We have t let go of th past t be born again. But don't th past just repeat, it's like being sucked into a typhoon spinning in my mind. Tonight I just wanna close my eyes and go away t another place, t just let things happen th way they want it t. Bring out th tranquilizers and I just wanna stone till morning comes. I feel eccentric, fuck worries I wanna be as calm as a dead man tonight because somehow I just feel numb. Not numb enough to neutralize all these nightmares, never is. Loosening my wrists and swaying my fingers in midair, I'm not saving myself tonight. I need an alternative, it feels too raw. Always try t capture every feel w words, but tonight for some reason I don't have much words left. I don't have much of anything left. I'm so scared, buried under all this darkness, I see light streaks zooming pass my room, I feel like if I concentrated hard enough, I could feel myself being lifted off my bed, floating on suffocated air.

I'm alone, but that's okay. I'll find myself a substitute. I'm not fuckin my emotions though, I wanna be w them. I just wish I could get out of my mind during times like these. Forget all th bullshit of finding a savior, you fuckin save yourself. But I give up. I give up trying t explain myself, or fight for something that seemed unfair t me. I'm done listening t peoples' requests but have them fuck up mine countless times on purpose. I'm just done and if that means that I'd have t be alone, then I will find peace w myself tonight. I'll drown in alcohol just t stay afloat, and anything else that will take me away. And i will find myself distractions elsewhere. Fuck this, I'm racing against time t see if all my thoughts or all th alcohol could reach my bloodstream first. I'm pretty sure we all know who's ahead.