doushite

she said, but only to herself, {i don't care for you. but i care less for being altogether alone}

{heartless bitch}, thinks the one waiting for happiness.

ask the one who is not afraid, but she too, if she lives long enough, will run out of people that truly love her. or will run away from them. run away so they don't have a chance to change their minds. run away so she doesn't have to make up her mind. run away so she doesn't have to see the mess she's made of herself, of others. run away so she doesn't have to clean up the mess that other have made for themselves, for her.

things get lost. the running only disorients.

come and find me! someone...anyone...

stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it i hate it dont look at me that's not for you it's gross it's impure it's it's it's stop stop it isn't me it's not it's not it's not it's not i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate me i hate myself so much

The lack of demonstrated empathy is possibly the most dysfunctional aspect of Asperger syndrome (AS). Individuals with AS experience difficulties in basic elements of social interaction, which may include a failure to develop friendships or to seek shared enjoyments or achievements with others (for example, showing others objects of interest); a lack of social or emotional reciprocity; and impaired nonverbal behaviors such as eye contact, facial expression, posture, and gesture.
Unlike those with autism, people with AS are not usually withdrawn around others; they approach others, even if awkwardly, for example by engaging in a one-sided, long-winded speech about a favorite topic while being oblivious to the listener's feelings or reactions, such as signs of boredom or haste to leave. This social awkwardness has been called "active but odd" This failure to react appropriately to social interaction may appear as disregard for other people's feelings, and may come across as insensitive. The cognitive ability of children with AS often lets them articulate social norms in a laboratory context, where they may be able to show a theoretical understanding of other people's emotions; they typically have difficulty acting on this knowledge in fluid, real-life situations, however. People with AS may analyze and distill their observation of social interaction into rigid behavioral guidelines and apply these rules in awkward ways—such as forced eye contact—resulting in demeanor that appears rigid or socially naïve. Childhood desires for companionship can be numbed through a history of failed social encounters.

well, can't they fix it, like the way they fix left-handed kids?

hurts (herself) just to feel. but isn't this what you call a beautiful day?

this is not me! it can't be. there's more. there has to be. it's deeper. much deeper. the places where other people can't go. the places where i dont go. the places that come visit me. in dreams. in the bed that i'm afraid to be in alone. with the person with whom i'm afraid to share those dreams. what are you waiting for? what are you hoping for?

what are you waiting for? i'm living my life!
what are you hoping for? i do what i want!
what are you waiting for? is everything so fateless?
what are you hoping for? i dont mind
what are you waiting for? i dont care
what are you hoping for? what's it to you?
what are you waiting for? i dont want this
what are you hoping for? i dont want this
what are you waiting for? i dont want to be alone
what are you hoping for? i dont want to be alone
dont leave me dont desert me dont forget me

[this is what you wanted. these are the choices you made. it's all been up to you. this is your world, and this is what you've done with it. you aren't a spectator in a clockwork universe. this is your life. this is YOUR life. this is your story. (and you can tell everybody) this is your song. this is your darkness. this is your salvation. this is your friendship. this is your love. this is your weakness. this is your loneliness. this is your sorrow. this is your defeat. this is your emptiness. this is your despair. this is your closet. this is your bright idea. this is your endless possibility. this is your event horizon. this is your existence.]

the hell are you talking about? like this was all my idea? like this was all my choosing? like i wanted this stupid nose? like i wanted this useless arm? like i wanted this tyrant family? like i wanted this lame school? like i wanted this social awkwardness? like i wanted this prudish church? like i wanted this tard boss? like i wanted rape, like i wanted cancer, like i wanted betrayal, like i wanted failure, like i wanted age spots, like i wanted freak roommates? like i want to bleed? i dont even want kids! are you even listening to yourself, or do you just trying to convince yourself you're in control?

why is it up to me? why is it always me? why am i the one who has to do everything? this is so tiring. why can't things just be easy for once? why can't things work themselves out on their own? why do i have to be the responsible one? i'm not the best. i'm not even good. so why do i have to do it? why do i get stuck looking out for everyone? people dont care about me. no one cares about me. not really. not for the things that really matter. of course it has to be up to me, because no one else will. not for me.

well, it is what it is. and sometimes there's something i can do and sometimes there isn't. right now i'm useless. i'm weak. i'm good for nothing. i'm not helping anyone. i should be thrown away. i should be discarded. no one should pay any attention to me. i should be ignored. i should be banished. i wish i was invisible, so no one would see how worthless i am. so no one could see that their not caring isn't wasted.

but then, isn't that what the face paint and boobs are for? so people can look at other things and i can still be a little less alone and be told what i want to hear if only for a little while.

she wishes getting back to sleep wouldn't always be so difficult, especially since it always takes her back to the same place.

but time flows like a river, and history repeats itself

i tried to understand
i believed the best i could
i followed rules and regulations
just like in the Book

but something is amiss
i'm in a different story
i see no king, no wedding ring
no comfort riches glory

was my faith not on solid ground?
am i lost not to be found?
no piece of peace, not loved above
where is my rest, where is my crown

like the cruel angel
i went
but it's just as before
desolate, isolate, inanimate
inconsolable

i'm not surprised

at least i wasn't expecting anything this time

initially joss whedon

i make no apology for the fact that i invest much more in R&D than i do marketing. my administration budget is on the leaner side of sufficient, but i do so hate paperwork. and i like to think i manage myself efficiently, on the whole, despite being readily diverted by the likes of Dr. Horrible (PhD in Horribleness) and Josh Hamilton (BA in the .300s).

(And just as a side note, Cliff Lee, are you kidding me?)

ok, it's true that i haven't written in a while, and i might be rusty, but given my recent difficulties along other lines of communication, i am resorting to this sort of broadcasting. what i'm getting at is that despite all of the interaction i have with people in the hospital, there's a level of connection that isn't being satisfied, and therefore i'm using this medium to exorcise my demons. not that i really care if anyone reads this. that's not the point. the point is that i'm making it external to myself, so that i needn't carry it around myself. i wouldn't wish it on anyone else (in case you're wondering, because i sure am, i don't know what exactly 'it' refers to in the last couple sentences. i think the whole thing is a lesson in the value of pronouns when a true noun isn't readily available).

but now that i have you here, there's nothing really to say. i'm tired. yeah, that's about it. and now i'm going to expound on it, for my own sake, just so i know what i'm talking about, and there's no real reason for you to read any further. especially since if you were to ask me in person, the conversation would end with the period that succeeds "tired." but, since i have nothing else to do, and since the following isn't too personal to withhold, i will break down my tired's bajillion fourteen different meanings (i'm saving the parabola for when i really need it).
i'm tired of waking up at 5 to do a job that someone else is going to do anyway because they don't trust me.
i'm tired of studying every day.
i'm tired of my back pain.
i'm tired of not having anything to look forward to.
i'm tired of not knowing spanish and not having the time to learn it.
i'm tired of being asked inane (and at their worst, rhetorical) questions that don't merit a response.
i'm tired of my room being so hot that i can't fall asleep.
i'm tired of living alone in my head.
i'm tired of pretending i'm dead, especially since i've done an awful job at replacing brandon moor.
i'm tired of my worsening vision.
i'm tired of feeling sorry for myself.
i'm tired of being too tired to fix any of this.
i'm tired of being so careful.
i'm tired of having to do everything myself (well, i wouldn't trust it any other way, which may or may not be beside the point. but still i'm tired of it).

well that's pretty extensive. and of variable veracity / the parasol got out of hand (like might happen tatooine). {i have to stretch to follow that last bit there}

anyway, i'm done kvetching. really, all i want is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a moment to pray for Randy Pausch's family, and to fall asleep listening to FF8 piano music.