Fear consumes you, only trust can save you
I want to say how sorry I am. For being so awkward and awful the last few days and in truth I do not know when this is going to get better. With this anniversary I now wait for the next, after that it may be over.

I don't know how to react to you telling me how great I am. I'm really not used to it and I...don't know how to think, how to live when there are people that actually care about me.

I can't type right now, I'm in turmoil. I have a journal entry that I feel either I should post or have you read...ask me about it if you can.

For right now I have letters to read and reminisce with.
- posted by Catherine @ 5/27/2004 10:16:00 AM (0) comments

 
The right amount of pain
I don't really do well with the whole verbal communication thing, as we all know, so this is my forum for the deal. Best idea I've had all day, but hey it's only 8:00 so I have time to come up with better ones. I turned in a piece of paper. 13 left. I don't know how that's supposed to last.

And as I was thinking about it, a piece of paper should be worth a day. A 24-hour period so that if you formally turn it in at 8 in the morning, lets say, then you’re good till 8 the next day. Within reason of course. No over doing it, and I trust that there will be none of that. I need another vote to make this happen so agree or disagree, as you will.

Focus group; I feel out of place even in the group of the 'odd'. I'm not as smart as everyone else in the group, and I certainly will not have any good ideas to share as my mind is a void were I can stumble upon a thought once and a while but not on queue. Clap your hands I may not jump.

I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry
I do not know why I spoke at all; I do not know why I speak. All that happens is I cause pain to those around me. Words like knives, only taking shape to hurt you after they are out of my mouth. Made by me yet shaped by your memories, and I am sorry. I am sorry I am sorry. Sick with the knowledge that I have caused you pain. Inflicted it on my self as penance for my crime. I am sorry.
- posted by Catherine @ 5/19/2004 07:57:00 AM (0) comments

 
Blind watcher
This was not supposed to happen. It was not intended. I knew it would though, I saw it. I tried so hard to make sure you two did not grow apart. I tried. But you cannot challenge fate. You only delay the inevitable.
I feel so bad because I took one away from the other. If I hadn't been here would it have worked out better? Things don't have to change. Me; the catalyst. Sometimes the things I start don't end for the best.
I can only hope that neither of you are alone now...

- posted by Catherine @ 5/13/2004 07:28:00 AM (0) comments

 
I watched you change
Note; don't let people take you're life and fuck it up. Don't let them take your soul examine it and throw it away. Don't let them touch you. Don't let them into your past. Don't give them a chance to misunderstand you. Don't pick the wrong person to trust. But also do not trust that the right ones will understnad your pleas. Because they won't and then you're forced to turn to the wrong people. When that happens everything goes to hell. But in that event please remember not to put to much weight on their words, they're sure to say the wrong ones. Those wrong words with the power you have given them, they can break you. Again. As always.

I think I used to be happy. Denial is the best. You don't have to deal with anything, not really...Even better though is total repression. It doesn't even cross your mind. So nice. I don't understand why my mind feels I must deal with this right now. Does it think I have the tools? Or maybe the people capable of helping me?

In truth, I don't want them to help me. People always get hurt around me. I hurt them. My memeories hurt them. My actions hurt them. As theirs do me.

Triggers are some of the worst things out there. Dangerous really. Promises get broken that way. My triggers? (an unasked question, congrats cathy you scitzo) -yelling, -some music, -memories.

as I think of it...this is me handing you my soul on a silver platter. You could do anything with this...so what will you do? break me. please.

MH:I will not take anything from you. Not if I can help it. But it is up to you what you want to give and that I will try to accept.
- posted by Catherine @ 5/09/2004 10:43:00 PM (0) comments

 
Wounds will heal, but your mind will be scarred forever
New music...
New sleep...
Both of questionable nature.
The music is a trigger, and I'm angry at my self for being able to know that.
The sleep, is almost worse than it was before. Exhausted yet energetic. You tell me whats going on because I can't tell anymore.
I want to scream but logic stops me. How well whould that go over?
Who should my rage be directed at? The only person I can see as being truely worthy is myself. But what happens then? Where does it end? Or, more to the point, when.

- posted by Catherine @ 5/07/2004 08:19:00 AM (0) comments

 
Images
Lost in a state of senselessness;
.. . . . . . . . . windows and doors no longer an exit;
. . . . . . . . . the only way out appears,
. . . . . . . . and then quickly fades away;
. . . . . . . a staircase leading downward
. . . . . . .into darkercells that lead to uncertainty,
. . . . . . and without my light to guide me,
. . . . . .it is useless to venture
. . . . . that is which can only be defined
. . . . .by twirling circles with your fingers,
. . . . and the choice to fret into darkness.

Images of sunlight on my face emerge in the soft light,
and shade I know exists isn't visible
when the door knocks three times,
and falls silent in the oblivious breeze.
I sit quitely in the chair,
near the window, and across the room,
starting at the knob's slow turn -
on click, ,and then a second,
though the third never comes.

Family pictures shake on the wall,
and I shiver in the cold,
for we both are one;
and infinate force that lives in despair,
hung upon a mantle and forgotten.
Vivaldi plays in the background,
only my eyes can move back and forth,
watching my body flow through wind
like a weightless feather cought in an updraft.

Blades of grass tickle my feet
as thunder flashes, and lightning breaks the silence
reflecting into my brown eyes.
Rainy skies battle feilds of snow
as my shivers stop and warmth hits my face,
but there is no sun;
only darkness, wind, and a burning tree.

It tumbles over my body, and I begin to burn.
-Unknown
- posted by Catherine @ 5/04/2004 07:19:00 AM (0) comments

 
Field of paper flowers
Just my luck...I'm sick. Yay.

I made a decision a while ago. I chose to forget. So that those memories would no longer plague my waking thoughts. So that those around me that do not believe may have their peace. So that I would not speak of it...so that you would not have to listen.
And yet, here they are again. Stolen moments in my thoughts, no punishment to be had. And how do you sleep, really sleep, when your mind will provide no rest from those 'demons', as some would call them. How do you kill the past?
I ask that question and yet I also ask those around me to delve into theirs. How hypocritical.
But I do not ask them to do that for what must seem to be my amusement...or entertainment. Quite on the contrary in fact. I wish only for their, your, mental freedom. I wish that I could carry your burden, so that you could fly, even if that leads you to fly away. All of you.
Even those I dislike so much. That may seem crazy...but maybe there is something holding them. Maybe they really were not themselves. Maybe they are restrained by their own past. How do you break those chains? Can I?

These are all futile musings...
Useless...
Or not?
You tell me.
- posted by Catherine @ 5/02/2004 10:42:00 PM (0) comments