2004-06-22 23:58:16 ET|
Finally Iím back again (I was absent due to a concert we gave in another city with another orchestra), the concert sucked so much ass, I fucking do to dare to say that our director has really done so much sucked ass working with the orchestra lately. I felt like a total crap in there, way much lonely than in some other travels, how miserable shit I was there, Iím very seriously suspecting that the director is disliking me now, he doesnít speak to me the same way he used to before.
Well, as a result of this crapped weekend, yesterday, Monday, I got really fucked depressed as shit, and started having all this sick twisted ideas, am I really useful at something or someone? Do certain people around really deserve to breathe the same air? Should all they die and burn in hell or is it me how should just disappear from here and freeze the hell? I still get surprised how it is true that even in movies or tv shows or just reading journals on the internet I see that some other fucked up people get to know other fucked up people or having something subcultured in common, but I find myself every day more and more lone, there just isnít anyone here that feels, thinks likes stuff like me or be similar to me... they all are so fucking repugnant with their candy-pinkish-happy bullshit mind. There have been just a little few people Iím still doubtful to consider as true friends, about 3 or 4 in my life, were they or are they really friends or just any other random colleagues or blurry comrades?
Do I really suffer this for trying to separate different personalities? One, my behavior at school people, another with the orchestra people, and a third one, a more sincere one, writing my bullshit in this journal, always describing my negative existence, why, I canít see to really write about something nice and good on my life lately; this journal is truly something that should be burned, but I guess Iím still writing, either as a pathetic self therapy (?) or just to have an evidence, testimony of horror, a prove of how mean can a human be to itself, I donít know.
Shit, yesterday I was fucking raging more bullshit in my mind that what Iím writing right now, I could almost wrote a bitched ass poem of my pathetic misery, but fuck, I suck at using words, I spent some time sitting in the floor in the shower thinking if really any simple bug would miss me at all, or known people would just feel my absence as someone missing? Yesterday I kept thinking for a while in all this insane shit of my awareness and sick super philosophies that no one cares. Just to describe my past pain, while sitting in the floor in the shower, totally in the dark, from a thousand suffocated tears that never came out, just one slipped through my eyes, and as well as my pain, the tear did nothing but mix and drown within the other water drops that were flowing over my skin.