Deny Fear

When will you be coming home.... ?

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 01:23:31 GMT

He came back drunk again.At least I found out today that we CAN pay the rent for this months so to that point we're fine.
I can't find my boss on the phone to ask him about my salary and everyone told me he's the one I have to talk with ( I have lots of bosses).

To hell with it I wanted to come here and let it all out but I'm closing myself more and more in my own goddamned self and I cannot open up not even here in this place where no one knows me.That's it, I'm finished,eh ?

I can't cope with anything right now.I eat and I want to puke it all out, I feel like vomiting and I cannot because there is the sensation only in the lower parts of my stomach.
What do I do...sketch all day and throw everything in the trash bin,sometimes I sleep just to wake up with a headache and this vomit feeling , so most of the times I don't sleep.
I put myself to bed to stay wide awake and think about what to do and what I can and cannot do , to try and solve some problems , but of course I cannot so I surrender to some nicer thoughts in a steampunk/cyberpunk world that then remind me of other things in my life that should be taken care of .

Found out my jewelry might not be bough with their real value nowhere I may go so , that one falls out too...I don't know how I'll gather up the money to leave this place,I truly don't ...

I then look in the mirror and found it it's not fair to look like this at my age.
I should be just beggining my life , instead I feel as if it's ending day by day and I'm at least 10 years older than I really am.I feel old and so so tired.
So tired.

No one's online and in the chatroom I don't feel close to anyone.Nate is being nice but his type of nice is not enough for me right now as I am down in the bloody goddamned dirt and trying to breathe.

I'm a disaster and I came at the redaction in a daze , smoking a cigarette,I wasn't even sure I was truly walking.
All these young men and women my age all around me,and I was looking at it all from the outside like a spectator.I can't laugh,if I laugh it means everything is well and then something bad is going to happen to equal that named moment that made me laugh.

I miss my country.Actually my city.Somewhere deep inside I don't want to be anywhere else.To run on rooftops and drink tea in the teashop.
It's like eevry memory of my city that comes in and out of my head says "When will you be coming home ?"

I can't control myself right now, I'm crying really hard.I wish I wasn't,I thought I cried enough for these past 3 days but...you know how it is.
Who am I trying to kid tonight actually ? Probably just myself.I'm destroyed.
I'll be fine by the time daylight comes ( it's 3:21),but until then I still have some crying and strengthen up to do.As always.

I feel so bloody old.
And they're all asking " When will you be coming home ?"

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 20:37:13 GMT

To make long story short , drunk people,fight,pissed off,left home.

Morning I felt like punking,thus ate only an apple.Tonight,getting sick again,drank some water,coffee and smoked a bit wondering wether to cry or not.I didn't because it'd under me to cry after a fight,but I was frustrated because I could not get myself angry enough to punch the bloody bastard.

We move on , we dream , think of better alternative universes.
Somewhere where Hellboy saves me and falls madly in love with me and fights all demons of hell to keep me safe.I'm allowed to dream at least that ain't I ?

Why can't I be a corpse in the bathtub...wait, I don't have bathtub.Nevermind that.

I'm still not payed and tomorrow I'm calling my boss to see if he pays me or not.If he doesen't I'm out.I'm too sad to take anyone's crap these days and not sleeping doesen't help, as neither does sleeping and waking up with screams of babies and vomit in your throat .
I wish I had it in me to drink up my whole Absynthe bottle and fall in a come-like sleep,but i remember all the drunk issues I've had in my short life and I always get only a sip if I must , and put it away.

I'm still not sure wether to sell my jewelry because I dunno if it's worth something...I have a Rolex though I don't know if it's original,but i'll go see how much I can get on it . I have to leave this place because it's making me sicker and sicker and no matter how sarcastic and impossible I try to be , is getting the best of and I'm only thinking of ways to get myself killed faster and I cry for 2 days in a row then go the rest of the days in a numbness that's got a mind of its own.

Just leave my body in the care of my other self,and the best she can do is trying to keep myself alive and go through the daily life,make my feet move , my eyes to open,my hands to type , all that.
I've stubbed a half-stubbed cigarette in my palm and I don't wanna go there.Had enough trouble getting over self harm when I was 15.
To hell with it, I'm tried of getting over everything by myself,I'm older than I should be and I feel as if I already lived a lifetime.Over anorexia,over bulimia,over self-harm,over my imoral last 2 'jobs' I had to swallow.

I think it's fair for me to be at least allowed to dream Hellboy is gonna come and take me away.
That one day an old man with dark eyes will come and say ' you're coming with me' and his name would be Capitain Nemo.

I don't deserve all this,I don't.I've read more books than half of the imbeciles I'm interacting with everyday and I can learn things very fast,I speak almost 3 languages and understand other 2 without problem.I have graphic art skills.I did auto mechanics.I'm patient,I can be taught almost anything.
And what is the use of all this ? Of learning and be passioned by certain things if I end up everytime in a skirt with fishnet stockings and be expected to be half whore half company.Or work in this stupid redaction where I'm not even sure if I get payed.Come back to drunken people and fight them.

To hell with it all , I can be so much more than this.So much bloody more..

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 16:28:02 GMT

A piece of Hellboy fanfiction because I have no life and because I haven't been writing fanfiction in years.For safekeeping.

Big Eyed Fish

She coughed five times before getting on her feet and checking out the library in search for the named book.
"Are you alright ?" Abe asked as he sat in his chair , watching her with his large eyes.
"Oh yes..." She smiled then coughed again " Dunno where I put that bloody book..." She muttered.
Abe relaxed in his chair . Well , not for real , but he didn't want to throw her in some other enraged fit like last time he spoke out to her.She had a gift of being calm on the outside and jerking you off with some comment that would make you shut up and hate her.
So here they were, in the large office, Victorian-like arranged , with its walls covered with books , piles of folders on the table , on the desk and in small stashes on the floor.So here she was on her toes to reach a shelf beyond her own height , wearing a black cotton turtleneck that fit on her proeminent breasts where always laid in perfect harmony the golden celtic cross that hung from a silver chain,that matched th leather belt that holding her black pants,tucked in black army-like boots.And here he was, thinking that , if they would be the same size,she and Hellboy could easily share wardrobe.
And here he was,keeping his hands in his lap,in quiet wait,fixating her back , the way the hair was cut short on the back of her head , how she switched movements , making her bones move in a full figured body he knew she hated because it did not fit Cosmopolitan standards.
The room made him sick as the air was hard to breathe ,heavy filled with cigarette smoke , but he enetered anyway , because it was hard to speak to her through the water tank that also lead to this office,occupying the wall next to her desk,when she repeatedly ignored him.Now he'd used the motive of this book he couldn't find anywhere but in her library.Not true but...
She'd been nice as she was , sometimes snappy, as she was , too quiet or too loud , as she was, and agreed to recieve him , despite of all the paperwork she had to do.
She reached for the book with her left hand , between her fingers the cigarette consuming itself ,crowned by long fingernails,covered in a see-through colour that matched the cigarette smoke.
She handed him the book with the same hand , looking straight into his eyes , smiling to him.
"Thank you." He said and got up to leave.
"Uh...would you like some ...tea ? Or any other type of liquid ?" She asked as he was near the door.
Was this an attempt to ger over their discussion ?
He turned to see her standing with the tank behind her , covered in blue-ish light coming from it , giving her some sort of ethereal halo.
He would of loved to stay.Loved to.But the air was hard to breathe. She smoked herself sick because she felt like it and purpously to make him feel sick too because she knew he couldn't breathe properly in such air and now she felt sorry for it. He knew that and he would of loved to stay.
" No , thank you.I must finish some research , then get myself to read this book."He replied , signaling to the the book she'd just given to him.
" Oh...well...if any other time you need more steampunk literature,let me know " She replied with a smile that turned into a cough.
"I will.A good day." Was all he could say and exited the room.
Abe walked down the halls in silence , slowly , saluting various people and agents he met on the way , as the book hanged heavy on his arm. " Morlock Night" 1979,by Tim Powers, at the beggining of the steapunk literature...he knew it already , he'd read it and knew it passage by passage.But it was the first title that came into his mind, the first good excuse he could think of.
As he reached his own room, he took a deep breath before removing his suit and held it as he put the book on a chair then jumped in his water tank.As he got deeper, he crouched on the cemented floor, listening to the water and to his own heartbeats.
He could go , take a swim through this water channel , installed especially for him and the various experiments he sometimes attended to or conducted for the Department,to see who is in the other offices, or up to her office and see how she is.
He was ashamed to admit to anyone , even to himself, he was , mostly , spying.
Sometimes,he'd just find times when she would be sleeping , on the couch , and watch her until he would notice the first sign of awakening and disappear in a flash.
Other times,she'd stay on the floor , with her back at the tank and do her work with the ever present cigarette to her side. He'd watch her then also.
Sometimes she was sent to brief him on a mission and he'd hide inside his tank in a dark corner,and she'd glue herself to the glass and search for him with her eyes.From that dark corner he'd look straight at her without her knwoledge.
Dark eyes , covered with blue contacs , because her eyesight was terrible.Contacts cannot fully cover your natural colour , thus , her eyes, besides from looking even bigger,had an odd colour variation,and they looked fish -like.He'd watch them with his own large eyes until he'd either come out, either she would leave,probably thinking he was not there.
He'd watched her adolescent crazes and he'd experienced her developing into a young woman.Saved by a demon-child by hellboy in a fight 10 years before,the child she was back then fought restlessly and ran after Hellboy , grabbing his trenchcoat , and demanded attention until she was accepted to work for the department " as anything , even wiping the floors " as she said herself,for those who had saved her.
Considering her personal life had "14253647589285 issues" , as she once wrote in her personal folder she handed to a guardian offcier, issues she never spoke of , she spent most of her time in the Department's rooms , arranging files and doing various chores,even taking care of Hellboy's tomcats , which she really liked to anyway.Everybody knew her in the Department and trusted her , and some others thought she was a good for nothing. She'd spit balls of intelligence in spontaneous moments and catch any knowledge like a sponge as well as she could prove to be downright stupid at other times.
They called her 'kid' even though she was not one in years anymore,and they all had a piece of her,from Hellboy,John or Liz to the various FBI agents ending with Hellboy's cats.Buy coffee and cigars,arrange the files,copy the files,buy catfood.She was there.
But Abe , selfishly , in his mind , claimed her as his own.
Only if she was an amphibian.Only if she was more like Liz.Only if she was smarter.Taller.Skinnier.Happier.More efficient.But she wasn't.
And he liked her just like that.
He sprung up,circled the tank a few times then started to swim up the channels that connected the various tanks in the various offices of the department or meeting rooms.
He'll have to ask again , later , his suit to be sterilyzed,he could feel the smoke all across his skin, he liked to keep a trace of it on himself,but he'd sooner or later choke if the breathing valves of the suit were not cleaned.He'd choke just like her.
When he got the problem up , a week ago , they fought , first time he ever had someone scream at him like that and be unable to reason with it.
If she would give up smoking , she 'd be fine,but he just recently realized the girl was killing herself consciously,and , despite his knowledge, human suicide , in all its ways , faster or slower, was something he could not comperhend.
He could mention it to Hellboy.But he'd make a mess.To Liz, but the two were not that close to open such a subject Abe knew it was delicate,neither was she close to John.Actually the only ones with whom she spent time with was himself and Red's tomcats.
Abe knew all her façades,even the ones she never mentioned and could not get any out in the open because he was puzzled and he could not find nor the end nor the beggining.She'd stub cigarettes in her left palm , that's why she always held it in a fist and wore long sleeved blouses that reached her knuckes.Sometimes, calm as she was in her so called offcie, she would suddenlly errupt in fits of rage and trash everything , cry for hours in her fists , then clean everything up like nothing had happened as he'd spy all these actions from a drak corner or when the lights were not on to illuminate the tanks.
But he was puzzled by such reactions, such self-induced pains.Puzzled and fascinated, and he did not know wether he was doing the right thing or being downright cruel.
He turned right on a dark tunnel leading , yes , to her office, as the lights were shutting down,but he didn't need them anyway , they were for the ones beyond the glass.
Abe knew her hands were always cold and she rocked herself away from tears sometimes.He never knew why though,nor why tears came out,what was the preocess.He knew the anatomical data , yes , but he could never understand what exactly was that triggered them.
When he analyzed himself a long time ago ,he realized that what he felt could be ,nevertheless, related with what it was called 'love'.And at that discovery , he was again puzzled of everything that came with it.He'd suddnely started to hurt. For her as well as for himself.To be aware of his own condition as a creature resembling something, but neither human nor animal,and of her own condition as human , puzzled by her own existence.
Abe asked her once what was love to her.
"Imposible." She replied back then , coughed once, then sucked the smoke in her lungs , as they conversated, he , leaning on the glass in his tank , she, on a chair in front of it.
"Why ?" he then asked.
"Because it's just a dream." She smiled " And a fish's dreams should stay in the sea.Otherwise he'd choke."
And he was hurt.
She meant nothing of that , neither reffered to him , but he reffered to himself in his mind , and this reply circled his mind up to this day.
Many things in his carefully built world were falling apart , and the only thing he could think of was to be kept in her arms as his world ended.
When he entered the tank in her room , the lights in the tank were off, and he could easily watch what was going on in the room , as he heard the familiar cough.
This time though , she was in front of the tank , watching it with attention .He stopped in the middle and stood motionless , looking at her fish-like eyes.In that moment , she moved closer and tapped the glass with her nails , from which hung her death , the cigarette , burning at 700 degrees Celsius.Did she knew this piece of info... ?
In a second , she pressed her palms on the glass , in a violent gesture that made him jump ,and she frowned but not in anger , but with a note of despair , looking in the black abyss of the tank.Let her forehead on the glass, as it caressed her skin , her temples , her hair moving as if she was a cat under the touch of its owner.
"When the room is dim-lit you can see the shapes in the water." She said " I know you're there."
He did nothing suddenlly scared at this revelation.
"Abe..." She pleaded with demanding eyes fixating his shape in the water
Being discovered now , it would of been more embarassiong for him to run away so he got closer and his face suddenlly appeared close to the glass, as he put his blue palms on it like he would of touched hers.
"What 's wrong ?" he managed to say as he revelaed himself.
"Everything..." She replied, looking at him , half smiling.
"Do you wish to speak ?"
"No." She replied calmly , still looking at his face , into his eyes.She then closed her own and pressed her lips on the glass,right at the level his lips were, and he felt his heart skip a beat , but not enough for him to realize what it means , as she jumped back violently, grabbed her jacket from the chair and left the room running , slamming the door , leaving him in the darkness , perplexed and alone.
Two days alter , he recieved her personal info , her records and the records and notes of the guardian who observed her without her knowledge, at the news of her suicide a day earlier.He read everything carefully , in full silence as John was turning the pages and arranging the photos for him to see clearly.
He smiled and thanked him when he finished and asked to be left alone.
That night he curled up in the darkest tank he could find as he aknowledged now what humans could do to eachother and his mind started to link psychology books, terms and experiments that answered to his questions but did not measure up to explain the feelings , hers and his own . He understood much more about human nature as he calculated it with his own feelings and he knew now what 'tears' meant , and he would of liked to be capable to cry too , because he learned that the world could end in a million other ways , that not all fish eyes were the same , but they could feel and see the same , and that he could of rocked her to sleep as both their worlds ended.

- Fine

"Because a quitter never wins" - Dropkick Murphys -

Sat, 29 Sep 2007 16:10:03 GMT

*yawns*

Ahoy my fellow pirates who run across the urban seas of various cities of this world.

I'm bored and I'm at work.Of course.
On Monday I'm asking for my paycheck which will definetely not be recieved and I shall find another reason to hate Italy and Italians to their deepest core and hope they all die and burn in the deepest flames of hell.
One day , I will lose it and just go on with it while saying : " It's hard to run with a broken leg you god damned bloody stupid italian !!!"

I hate you Italy and I hope everybody knows it.I hate you because I don't like to find racist comments written on my door and because you're ignorant to culture and you have absolutely no blood in your veins whatsoever you bloody cowards.I measure up to one meter sixty-six and you can't even get your ass to fight me face to face.

Now that we got that cleared up , we'll start to the usual rants of the day.
I'm getting bored of LJ.
Getting bored of MySpace too because I don't like it when people ignore me when I've got something to say and when I've got something to say I'm saying it everyone knows that.The people who don't usually talk much should be bloody listened when they do.

Mother's boyfriend is coming in a week or so and he 'd better come with some money so I can get my ass leaving from this hellhole in December.He wants me away enough so he can make some money to give me to leave.

Dublin I'm coming !!!

I'm still searching for people with whom I can share rent ,but unfortunately people have stuff to lose,unlike me,and most of them are too happy with the comfot of their homes and the pampering of their moms and they lack the sense of adventure to leave and come with me in Ireland and share rent for a while.
And also there is none that loves Ireland like I do ....

To hell with it anyways,I have to do it somehow,I can die anytime by my own bloody hand if I wish so, so why not do it.I pretty much have all the info I need and I'll start looking for rooms or hostels a week or two in advance before I leave,which will hopefully be in December , because if I turn 20 in Italy I am going to throw myself off the Colosseum , I swear to god !
I've survived back home , survived in Sicilly and across Italy,hell I can survive anywhere for that matter.

Also I'd really like a Guiness so much....
No money though...have to keep them all safe for now.

Ugh....hold yer horses Dublin , I'm coming...
If I fuck it up again....oh well if I do might as well, it wouldn't be the first time.
But this time I have the priviledge of a really fresh start , not a half-a-fresh-start like until now.A new fresh one.My heart beats so fast while I think of it.Must do it in good spirits while listening to Manau or Dropkick Murphys , eh ?

What else....rediscovered my love for Nightcrawler and I drew a portrait of him last night and enjoyed it to the core.Been such a long time since I drew anything it hardly felt real.
I realized it's a thing that belongs to me ,that I developed it on my own with my own hands throughout the years and I cannot get rid of it as much as I'd like.It's the only thing I can do right bloody hell !
I decided to try and send some sktches and stuff like that somewhere after I settle up.I should do that , honestly,just to know I've tried it for real ,it's my bloody passion ever since I can remember for chrissakes!

Until next time,

noise.

When you've got nothing at all

Thu, 27 Sep 2007 10:57:49 GMT

  I think I'm gonna delete this LJ soon.I cannot find its purpose,honestly.I'm this close from exiting all communities and I have no friends on the list.

Damn it,Audioslave's song from Collateral just downloaded....damn....this feels so bittersweet.
I remember how deep the scene from the movie when this song is playing is engraved in my mind.

I can't tell you why people die alone

So exquisitely perfect....

Drunkness was in order this morning but I don't wanna think about it ,neither talk about it.I'm sick of it all and I haven't slept in 2 days again and I hope you all go to hell.Yes, you also.
God I'm so hungry also....and thirsty.And sleepy.I wish I was back 'home' in the bed , blinds shut and sleep the day away not thinking about anything and anyone.

Please money come,please December come,please airplane ticket come,please please please a bit of luck and compassion come god damn it !!

I'm falling into pieces and I'm hanging on to life like a whore does to her best client who's abusing her in all ways but pays the best.
I need so many things right now.Like food.Water.Cigarettes,good ones, like Black Stone I cannot find in this hellhole called Italy.Rain.Cold.Money.Money.Money.A hug.To be fucked inside out ( and this is new and stupid ,considering I only slept with a man once,it was because I had to and thought it was one of the most overrated things ever).Good music.Silence ( stupid italians won't stop making noise and screaming all the time ).A good Roiboss Cream&Caramel tea.Sleep.Money.Lots of money.A turtle.A dog.A cat.A bloody flower in a pot I don't care as long as I have something to give my affection to.

Today I started writing new ideas for "Minutes" and I cannot understand why , during the writing of a novel I have to come up with a dozen other small stories.

    This entry is stupid and worthless and I can't do it anymore because my head is spinning and I'm thinking how fucked up everything is and I just want to curl up and die.
But I won't do that because I'm a bitch and I wanna kick and push until it gets to me and die of exhaustion.

Unlike everyone else I know, I don't have anything to lose.No family , no boyfriend, no kids,no home,pretty much no job,no virginity,no reputation.

Bloody hell....

        noise.

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 20:36:24 GMT

This situation is getting nowhere.

I have my own set of rules to follow.

And you know what ?

I'm breaking them all.

And I scream down to this and I don't know wether is a good thing or a bad thing.

And I remember ever since I was 9 I wanted to name my child Lucas and I am so absolutely sure I'll never get to do that.

This situation isn't getting anywhere.

Everyone around me is dying , getting themselves killed or killing themselves.

So here I am , measuring one meter sixty six in my semi-large black pants and thinking : I'm breaking them all.

And I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 16:20:21 GMT

Life feels good against the scars on my arm and the bruises on my cheek.

Just wanted to let it out loud to myself.
I think I'm building myself a split personality.On MySpace I write about my search for that mythical whatever and my writings and here I am free to bitch an moan and think about death and suffering in the outmost silence because I have no friends and no one knows me.

You have to love the anonimity.

No home for me tonight because my uncle came drunk yesterday night , today he dissappeared again and I am doing a quiet protest against him for my mother maybe she'll get it,though I doubt it and I'll have to hiss it and spit it in her face later on.

I'm sick of it all and I will be leaving.As soon as I can.

I want to die really bad but in the same time I cannot due to my dual nature because I've been brought up not to believe in death unless it comes during a fight,dying for something I believe in, and if it does come like that than she's the best friend and absolutely welcomed and I'll die with a huge laughter on my face despite of my enemies.

Otherwise I cannot approach it that easily and I'm still smoking and dealing with my lungs spitting themselves out only because I hope they'll kill me sometime soon even if that other part of me doesen't want it.

I have to get a new tattoo, just a random thought.

I've got to bury myself in work now.I guess it's not much , but I'll get my ass onto doing something ,it's such a typical thing for me and I have to live up to my personal stereotypes and do it.

On another note, insomnia is creeping up to me again and she'll be very welcomed.
Wrote first two pages for 'To the Frontier Of Your Sleep' last night.

My memories are going to kill me and I just want to get up and run until I cannot breathe no more and I feel blood spitting out from my lungs.
I put a knife on your arms then and run it across your chest and I'll ask every single one of you ( you know who you are ) : Does this feel like love ?

noise.

Mon, 24 Sep 2007 14:54:05 GMT

Dear God,

    We need to talk sometime.Seriously.
   Don't make me go insane just to attract your attention.
   Don't make me come up there either.

You know fairly well I don't give a fuck and you should bloody give me a bloody god damned hand sometime.

We really need to talk.

noise.

Writer's block : (like juggling chainsaws)

Sat, 22 Sep 2007 10:52:02 GMT

I cannot work just yet because the matches are not finished at this hour and it's stupid because for the 22nd ( today that is )I only have one single championship to enter the results for and to verify.

I recieved the letter from Rich yesterday and I was so so happy! Apparently he was caught up with some paperwork to send to the judge and didn't manage to write the reply that fast.
I might give myself too much importance,no I am giving myself too much importance but I back away from my death pretty fast when I think he's got no support and that he somehow might depend on my letters to keep himself out of trouble.
I promised I'll write as often as I can to keep his mind busy and I think that if I go away what if something will happen to him ? I am the only one he can confide to and if I go ...?
I hate him for unwillingly and unknowingly keeping me alive,giving me a reason to still wake up in the morning.

He might have been an asshole and fucking up all his life,but he's attending college courses and working and I see he's hoping for better.
I encourage him as I can.
Because he's become very dear to me even if I still treat him with my lack-of-trust issue but he understands that.
If anyone would tell something bad about him in front of me , I'd punch that person straight in the face.And there are very few people from whom I'd do that.

As for myself,I'm doing my best to get myself into trouble and I find it hard to breathe.Sometimes I just want to enter a bar and scream : Who in here is willing to start a fight ?!?
I miss driving and watching the illegal car races.Running on rooftops and slipping away from the Police.

I cannot breathe in normal terms like everyone else .Actually I'm probably looking for something that will eventually kill me but I'm not aware of it at the moment.
I'm not made to live in any other way because my body and my soul was no built for that . I've been given a strong body to resist the physical pain and a soul to do the same.

I'm not gonna live up to my 30's and I never planned for my trip up to that point to be boring.

What is one crazy thing you would like to learn to do?

View 500 Answers

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 23:03:11 GMT

I'm posting this for safekeeping in case I lose my little note.

Dramamine comes first to stop me from throwing up, 1 hour before.
3 Clonazepam
2 Ambien
10 Darvon first and gradually up to 30 or 40.
Might need ant-nausea medication also.

I hope Demian goes to hell because it's his own bloody fault I cannot think about my death just yet.I have to finsih that bloody novel and I have to finish it soon !
Nevertheless I cannot write it just like that and I have a feeling it's gonna take a while.Or maybe I'll just break down and kick the bloody idea out of my head and get my ass back to my life and how and when it's supposed to end.

And I have such a headache from smoking too much.

I still can't believe they didn't come to save me yet.
But that's the way it is.

Until next time.

Talking home

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 22:16:56 GMT

I just finished talking with a very dear former high-school friend.
We laughed and made jokes and acted stupid.

I don't remember ever feeling so sad when ending a Messenger discussion.
I wanted to talk with him until morning.
We always had fun when we were together,all four of us,just kicking back and relaxing from everything and everyone.

I don't know if I miss home , if I miss being with the people I know, because they were so few or because I'm just ...dunno.

N. replied and it was the reply I would of expected.Probably sees me just like another crazy one.My own bloody fault because he was nice enough to reply the first 2 times.My own bloody fault.

I have to finish writing 'To the Frontiers of Your Sleep' to get my ass and see if it's worth living or not.

I feel like crying and I'll probably proceed into doing so.

TWOOLH finished....

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 16:12:56 GMT

It's finished."The Work Of Our Lord's Hands" is finished.....
Bloody hell it's finished.
I am too tired to go check the mistakes and do a final check and maybe some re-writing,but basically , it's done.
Have to see wether I'm keeping the title or not.
It's gonna end up in my trashbin , but it had to be done,now I can concentrate on "To The Frontiers Of Your Sleep".
As I was writing the last lines I started crying.

N. did not reply to my message and I am afraid I might have looked like a stalker/crazy person....it's tipically me to be so bloody brutally honest and be taken the wrong way.Stupid stupid stupid....I'm still hoping he won't think that because he's such an interesting person I'd hate to lose touch with.
So stupid of me to write all that...

No,I'm not getting any better as you can see,I'm trying to die as much as before but I'm putting all my thoughts and concentration on "To The Frontiers Of Your Sleep" and it keeps me away from thinking about anything else at the moment .besides I can't die without finishing it damn it !
Demian is the most important person for me at the moment,I'm still trying to understand him.Not really understand him,I lack at the moment the rythm because I know who he is and what he wants and what he's scared of.

We're getting there.

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 14:18:47 GMT

ALAS FINALLY!!! Herman Hesse's "Demian " finally started to download...bloody hell, been waiting for months to get my hands on it.

I stopped writing in the middle of a sentance for "The Work Of our Lord's Hands". No! NOT Good ! I want so much to finish it , or at least get to the point where she enters the room...
Damn it....damn it.....it's like everything else attracts my attention and I feel such a need for a smoke.

I am not at all satsfied by this behaviour.

I have to write it down otherwise it will eat me alive.It didn't let me sleep last night did it ? It will continue doing so until I'll either write it down , either get kicked down into a deep depression.

I'm lighting a cigarette and return to writing now.

A rant

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 14:12:30 GMT

The list :

* Visiting Mrs.S (short story for Full Moon and the White Cat ) - finished

* Tomas The Normal (short story for Full Moon and the White Cat ) - pending

*The Gaia Hypothesis (I'd rather reffer to it as 'sketch') - finished

*Simple Movements (sketch) - finished

*To The Frontiers Of Your Sleep ( novel / to re-write as script ) - in progress

*The Work Of Our Lord's Hands / They Linked Their Hands And Danced (alternative title ) (short story / to re-write as script ) - in progress

*Recviem For Dana (short story ) - pending

*Cloudy,With Occasional Rain (novel / to re-write as script ) - desperately pending since 2003

Last night I was extremely tired and all I wanted was to sleep.

But,as always,I started thinking and analyzing and I ended up in the kitchen,on the table,with a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes at hand ( Marlboro,finally!). I circled the kitchen a dozen times,doing all those crazy things I do when I'm creating my characters and stories.I lost Demian in less than an hour and all I've got was a moth,the description of his mother and the description of a street.But we're getting there.

I stood awake in bed afterwards for at least 3 hours because this idea did not allow me to rest,thus, " The Work Of Our Lord's Hands" was created whom I am writing right now for.It's gonna be funny to watch people's reactions when they notice it has no connection with any kind of religious work and that is slightly depravated.

Again,I find myself unable to communicate or socialize and as soon as I get paid, I'm leaving for Rome to clear my head for a day or two.Big cities always calm me down,I was born in one, and living in this small city is killing me with each day that passes.

I'm decided to leave country (actually to leave the continent) by the end of December (in the worst case ).I cannot function here anymore.

I don't know wether it is because I am continuing my search for whatever it is I am looking for,or simply because of this feeling of 'not belonging'.

Sometimes it's painful,that I cannot relate to anyone and no one can see things through my eyes and end up being considered wierd simply because my words are taken the wrong way.Being in your twenties and being so exquisitely alone it's such a sad thing to live with.

But in the end, isn't all of this the product of the enviroment I was subjected and forced into ? In the end isn't this my own choice , as demanded by past experiences?

Yeah, I'm afraid it is,isn't it ?

Until next time.

To The Frontiers Of Your Sleep ( a rant )

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 15:23:32 GMT

Last night I returned home around 3 in the morning.

During that 10 minute walk towards home from the Redaction I stood and did some thinking,he was Lukas and he was Polish and he woke up in Rome,then he was Marius,and afterwards I took my eyes off the pavement and there it was : "Your name is Demian." I remember I said.Said or thought,that's not a clear memory.

I placed the action back home,in Bucharest since it is the place I know best,but I'm not decided yet, still pending wether to just make it a city without a name or leave it to Bucharest.I meant a city I know because this "tracing his paces" is a very important thing for the story.

I was walking down the street ( which , at that hour is deserted ) extremely concentrated,asking myself ,while stopping and turning,and re-tracing my own steps, what are you searching for ? what drives you ?

Finding out who you are drives you.You take these steps here,you turn.This is not the street,you move back,walk again.You re-trace your steps!

That's what you do,each step you took,you re-trace from memory,trying to get help from your sorroundings,from the sounds and the shapes.To find out who you are and what you have done.

It's probably not safe to stay next to me as I build my story...

I build each piece of the puzzle from other smaller pieces of puzzle,I trace the outlines,I bury the meanings.It's between the lines,it always is.

Trying to keep in mind never to write about things I do not know or feelings I have never experienced.The only rule I have when it comes to writing.

I'm proud of Demian,but there is still so much work to be done to it.To him , as character, and to its sorroundings, to the people and the different personalities he will interact with during that night everything takes place in .Everyone must be sympathethic for him,everyone must take him close to their hearts,it's the most important part,because without it,the end doesen't have the same impact.

I'll take all day just for him tomorrow, as I already finished what I had to do at work ( hopefully I did not messed everything up because I have feeling I did ).A whole day topped with coffee and cigarettes to dedicate to my favourite man of the moment.

If such an amazing thing occurs that a man asks me out tomorrow I'll probably shove him away saying I've got more important things to do with Demian.

It's probably in my nature to be more interested in writing ( top that with video-making and all other stuff I enjoy doing by myself) than go and socialize.Isn't it...?

Either way,there is still more brooding and walking on streets in the dead of the night to do until "To The Frontiers Of Your Sleep" is finished.

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 15:33:45 GMT

Yesterday I went to church in the morning,spat out an Ave Maria in latin then went to work and worked like a slave until the internet didn't work anymore and I had to give up.
I don't know if I'll get picked on for not finishing my work but it was not my fault as it isn't my fault because they did not install a phone so I can call the trainers to get the results instead of looking around for hours on the internet to find a thing it takes me 20 seconds to write.You give all the facilities necessary to the people who work for you if you want to do something right.

I must leave for Ireland before December or at least before January.That's it.I cannot do it here anymore.

I hope that I'll be a named Catholic until then so I can attend the catholic church in peace without feeling like an outsider invading someone else's space.I have to talk with the priest this Sunday he said he'll have all the answers by then .

Ireland , I 'm coming and i'm really scared !
I don't know what I'll do or how but I've been here for long enough and I'm sick of this sun and of these people.Apparently I have to get myself money for at least 2 months of survival without a job but I'll probably end up with just a plane ticket and enough money to last me a week.

If I die I'd rather die in Ireland.

I feel sick.
I woke up at one in the afternoon and I would of slept the day away.I don't know what's wrong with me and all this sleeping.I don't sleep for a period only to sleep for days afterwards.
It's clear I'm not ok.
That I have to leave this place as soon as possible.

I was the soul of the group.
I'd jump on tables and toast and i'd joke and dance.

Now I am the one that doesne't even socialize anymore.I don't even go out , even when asked to.Even when said "I'll pay,come on , let's go out".I don't want to and I hate them so much, it's like every sincle person I met here had a rule to hurt me in some way.
I don't know how or why but in Rome everyone seemed different...

Nevertheless , my favourite memory of Rome was the Irish Pub.

I don't know....
I feel Bianca far away from me and I never tell her what's bothering me anymore,or what's going on . For her , my days go round and round , just like hers,but it's not true.
My heart is falling into pieces and i'm worse than I've ever been.And she has no idea.Everything she doe hurts me, wether it is that she's ignoring a comment of mine , or an email ( like the one where i told her about the threats on my door, I needed some support then but she ignored the email ).
She probably sees things differently and it's nither her fault nor mine.I guess we simply just grew up in a different way even if together, and we don't share the same reality,just small bits of us that built our friendship.I love her just as much,even dispite all this.
But I don't feel her close.

I don't speak anymore really...I'm just giving replies to whatever and most of the time I'm not even really into the conversation as someone would think.

I need my freedom.I miss it.Every aspect of it.

I'm not used of being locked like this in society.Not used with a boring job and I don't like to keep quiet.
I'm loud and daring and the friend with the strongest hand you'll ever have.And yet no one seems to care about that.
I like living.
I like running hrough the rain and I like drinking Guiness and whiskey.I like to smoke and I like to laugh.I like to keep a tight hand on my friends but they don't seem to appreciate it in the same way.

I need my freedom.
I need people who laugh even when they're down and threatened and who will keep a tight grip on my hand even when the rocks under our feet seem to tumble down along with us.

If not , I want to be left alone.
Alone by the sea and under stormy clouds,with a place I can call my own.

I have to start all over again because if not , it will kill me.
With no outside influence , no drunken men around me,no crazy women who make a drama out of every small thing.
I want to be able to live it ALL as I want to,not only small bits . To have a cat or a dog ,no meat in my refrigirator and to dance through the kitchen whenever I feel like it .

I miss my freedom and I want a place of my own.

I want Ireland so much, just like I used to want it when I was a kid.
I miss feeling alive due to external causes nurtured by the people I have to share my life with.

Oh ! ça y est....

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 14:09:05 GMT

Took a short break from work to relax a bit because my head really really hurts and my eyes too.
Fact is I am being paid far , far less than what I'm supposed to for this kind of shitty job that no one else wants to do.
Well I don't know how you can relax while listening to hip-hop/rap during work, but it's not american rap so we're happy campers.
Give it to me,French rap/hip-hop , give me Polish one,German,Japanese or Chinese.I could listen to Manau for hours, I love his voice, it's really...dunno...I just like his voice.

Arg...so tired....and not even halfway to it, but I'll let some for tomorrow or the rest of the week , no matter what anyone might say, because I'm not their slave and I am not even supposed to be here during the week.

Not to mention I am desperately hungry because I didn't ate since this morning( It's 3 in the afternoon now ) and in the morning I took two spoons of rice and that was it.

Sometimes I think I should just find myself a wealthy man with whom I can marry and i can stay home all day and write or whatever else I want to do , and he'll be away all year 'round and have a handful of mistresses and I would so not care....
Just so I won't have to work and have my own studio and write novels or scripts, paint or play the piano.

If I return home i'll have nothing to do and find my uncle probably drunk ( he doesne't want to work because he says his workplace is too far ), I cannot even cook for fun since we don't really have food to eat so....um..yeah , I guess I'll stay here for a while and continue working...

Yeah...

Don't get me wrong....

Sun, 16 Sep 2007 17:25:42 GMT

I don't like God and there is a huge probability he doesen't like me much either.I'm trying to do the right thing mostly.I claim nothing but the corrupt.
Because it calms me down even if he says I make him cry.
But I love religion.

Tired.Sad and Hopeful

Sun, 16 Sep 2007 16:51:38 GMT

My first impression was that the priest was going to diss me off but he didn't.
I am to return on next Sunday to discuss wether there is something more I should do, or just start to attend the services and all that.Mostly,there is no problem considering I am baptized as christian.

That would be good because I don't think my mind is yet working properly to learn something new and recite it or whatever of that kind.
When I went out of the church the storm was about to start.
Ooooohhhh....are you giving me a sign, Lord? When we'll meet we'll have lots of stuff to clear out and we'll probably be screaming at eachother for a long time.

Big big headache.
Went to sleep at 6 in the morning and woke up at 13 in the afternoon.I hate this.I probably won't sleep tonight and tomorrow be terribily tired.And tomorrow I actually have to work,for real.

I am currently starting to gather info concerning Ireland,talking with some people,sent some messages,now waiting.I'm scared shitless but I'll probably do it since I don't have anything to lose.
Hell, I really do not have anything to lose,giving it a second thought....

I'm too tired for my age and for my own good.

Wanted to write something interesting,but nevermind that...

Blackout

Sat, 15 Sep 2007 16:49:19 GMT

Today is The Day of the Saint Cross.
I went into the church at 4 and something but the priest was already gone and there was no one I could speak with so I dipped my celtic cross in the holy water and left.
I wanted to stay for the service but gave up,dunno why.
   I'll go at the morning service tomorrow anyways and hopefully the priest will get some bloody time to speak with me, i don't know what they do that they are so busy all the time, I just want to ask a question and be guided through the process and that's it.

Yesterday I had a "blackout" , how I call it.I put my head down and slept for 18 hours straight,woke up once to drink a bit of water and collapsed instantly.
I was afraid I couldn't fall asleep again but pushed aside all my thoughts and put the headphones in my ear and drifted off in this athereal-like state while listening to irish/celtic chants and I knew I was going to sleep.

I'll probably do something stupid and leave for the UK without all the money I intended to gather,or fly directly to ireland.
Here , I'm not staying because I hate these people more and more and my heart yearns for UK and Ireland more and more.

    I wonder what I'll find when i return home.I let a note on the door for the person who drew the "work of art" on my door to come and talk face to face if he's got the courage.
   If someone entered the house while I'm away without knocking the doon down , then I know who he is and since I probably won't be able to go get him myself ( but I will try god damn it ) I won't stop mom from calling her happy pack of albanese men and tell them to go blow him to pieces.I'll pretend I didn't hear it.
You don't go around threatening my family even if I don't like any of them,but you're threatening the woman who carried me for 9 months in her womb and even if I might not like her much,you don't go and threaten her.

    I have the blood of warriors who fought the Turks in my veins and even if now 99% of our people don't worth shit it doesen't mean some uf us don't still have a memory of how brave our nation use to be.We'd go on even if we knew we're gonna die.

Bloody hell....

Anyway,guess I'll wait for some mp3s to download and return home to eat that nifty rice my uncle cooked.Too bad he's such a drunken pig,he would of made an excellent cook.

Noise

Not Boticelli,not Venice.THIS is Italy.

Fri, 14 Sep 2007 05:38:54 GMT

I would preffered my mom to scream at me rather than returning home and find my door sprayed with racist comments.

I just stood there watching it.
After she returns from work,mom will freak out and I'll have to fight some sense into her.After I talk with my boss about work I'll go at the Carabinieri ( the Italian police ) to denounce it.

Tried to clean it , but it won't come out.
I had the ashtray with a cigarette in it consuming itself,at 6 in the morning,and my hands smeared in red paint from trying to clean the paint off.

If I find that person before anyone else, I am going to take it and find the heaviest object around and do nothing but smash its right hand's fingers.
Even if I get caught and get in prison,can't get too much just for that.

Bloody hell, don't do these things to me when I haven't slept.

As I walked down the street everyone seemed to look at me as if they knew.I know it's just my paranoid imagination,I do.

This is Italy.
Not the nice people you all think they are.Romantics and calm and loving.
They say they don't generalize,I tried not to do it either.But this morning I will generalize and point out what a mass of ignorants they are.If any italian reads this, even if it might be someone nice,they're in the same crowd as the rest of them all.
I know people my nationality have done bad things around,but I came here to work.I never ever did anything do enrage any of them , even if I hate them.I tried to be tolerant and understand their attitude.

But you don't write threats on my door.
You don't do that.

If I find that person I am going to harm him or her.And not apologize.

Noise

Cigarettes,uncareness for people,oasis and other 3 in the morning rambles

Fri, 14 Sep 2007 02:15:07 GMT

I don't want to make you cry , but I really really like it when you do.

Stole 3 euros from mom and went out to buy myself a pack of Philip Morris.Of course my lighter gave up on me but I found two junkies that were nice enough to borrow me one and ask me if I want a smoke of Marijuana or whatever they had folded in there.
I refused them nicely and continued to walk.

I'm high enough of lack of sleep,that's enough for me.Sleeping for 11 hours today only helped me for about.....half an hour or so.Immediately after I started to feel like crap again.
Not that it bothers me, I like feeling miserable because I am aware of how worthless I am to everybody and I don't even care all that much.
I wouldn't care at all if I was thinner , but that seems to de-materialize again.Trying not to eat but I don't want to fall into anorexia or bulimia.

Mom and my uncle came back home tonight and my uncle babbled something about finiding a job and I just wanted to tell him to go away so I can watch Law&Order in peace.

Good bye sleep again now.I can sleep by day only if I put my clock to ring to wake up before mom comes from work because she'll start bitching about why I sleep so much.

Bloody hell woman, what do you want me to do ??!!?
I mean,if I stay up in the kitchen with the lights on , it's not good because I consume electricity. If I stay with lights off, I'm "like a ghost " (and I truly do not know why it bothers her so much but anyway ),if I stay in bed I cannot listen to music because she wakes up whenever I touch the mp3 button to change the song or the radio station ( yes i sleep with mom because I'm not lucky like the rest of whoever might be reading this so I can have my own room ).

And what , stay all night in bed looking at the walls in silence ? Well I AM sorry , but it will only get me crazier than I already am and you all know I'm already bloody borderline.

Moving on.

I stood for about half an hour on the steps of the church while smoking my lungs out.
Dunno why I continue to return to churches,but I do and I refuse to quetion myself over it.It's the place where you're supposed to feel safe even if it's not true,but it brings me a feeling of easynessPeople looked at me and I looked at them and I was sure I was going to burst out and tell them to fuck off.I'm lucky at night because if I'm also crouched like that , I look like a boy so no one picks on me and even if they did we've been there before.
Wish I could get rid of these bloody baloons hanging from my chest,I'd be more happier.

Apparently , I am denying my sexuality ,and I was ready not to agree with that until I shared some thought about it today and realized that might be true, be we can live with that also.

3:39

I'll go at 5 so I'll be home before mom wakes up, crawl into bed and hope she won't hear me and think I slept all night , unless my uncle spits it out about me if he hears the door when I return.Bloody italian doors , I swear to god,ever since I'm here not one single fucking door worked properly.

Also, I look like crap and I start to resemble Jack from Fight Club and it's not a pretty sight on a young woman to look
like she wants to spit out venom at everyone.
Oh nevermind that I do want to spit venom at everyone,they just don't provoke me.

Not sleeping is also delaying my brain because today I tried to write my ID on Messenger and looked intensly at it, nothing was wrong, but it still told me it was an error,and I tried at least 5 times until I realized I spelled it with an underline.
And I swear I looked at it and thought nothing was wrong.

I was reading about what sleep loss can do to you a few moments ago and gave up because it's depressing.

My character developed during the last 10 minutes I was in the house and I think they're turning into 2 characters but I think I'll drop that idea.Everything is getting clearer and by tonight I hope to get a right idea.
Hell, I'll maybe even write a script !
And send it to Duffy.
That would be interesting.
Me and Duffy would do a good directors/screenwriters pair.I truly do think we would.

Back to reality now.

Forgot what I wanted to say....Anyway, still working on the story.
And I'm tired like hell.

Noise

A Talk

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 19:06:44 GMT

What did you do to deserve me anyways ?

Just fucking go away , you're not ready for me and you know it.

And I'm serious.

My body collapsed today at 6 in the morning.Total blackout.Woke up once to go to the bathroom and because my clock rang.
Blackout afterwards.

Slept for 11 hours straight.Couldn't wake up,nothing woke me up.

No one was home for 2 days and the silence was most welcomed.Totally darkened the room and saw and heard nothing.11 hours.

Went to the church at 6 in the afternoon before coming here and waited for a sign but none came.No, I'm not a fanatic,but I'm still hoping something like in the movies will happen to me when you suddenly get this sign and know what it means and totally turns your life around.

Anyway, indulged myself with french fries after I woke up and I still feel guilty,and I don't know if I'll run tonight but I'll try to in order not to fall into bulimia or anorexia.

Still so tired and my head started to hurt bad again.
The pain didn't dissappear even after I woke up,but it was not this bad .Sometimes I wodner if I have a tumor.That would definetely suck.

Argh....
Have to do some stuff and retun home as much as I don't want to.

Yesterday morning at 4 when I returned home,there was this clear,wonderful starry sky .I was listening to the boondock saints with three stones,and you can imagine how everything felt.It was so bloody perfect,I could see every constellation clearly and.....I don't know , it never happened to me before.
I have to write it down in my notebook in more detail.It was amazing .

My left lung seems to have recovered.It hurt like crap for 3-4 hours since I'm here,dunno why.

I don't know how I feel.Honestly.
Must return tomorrow mornign to talk with my boss...don't want to communicate , really,but I have to , to see what to do.
I don't want to communicate with anyone at all.

Today I closed the messenger in the middle of the conversations and I'll blame it on a net failure because I couldn't stand talking to them
I have emails to read, stuff to do , my status is busy.Say that 3-4 times and people still don't get it.

I think I might be hungry.
Not food....anything else but food....

Must start writing also.

And if I do not smoke at least one cigarette in the next 24 hours I .Am.Going.To.Die.
Willingly.

Celtic High Cross

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 02:11:28 GMT

I find myself covered by this certain feeling of calmness/protectiveness now that I retrieved my celtic cross and as I'm wearing it around my neck.

It feels really good.

Insomnia

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 01:25:07 GMT

6 Hours of sleep in 3 days. Already on the 3rd and I doubt I'll sleep during the day.
I have to start to be more careful,because I don't wanna hear mom scream at me as to why I do not sleep.She was a real bitch about it ,she had no right to because she doesen't even know me and doesen't even know how shitty it is to be unable to sleep and if you manage to to sleep so bad and wake up with this terrible pains in the back of your head that make you stop sleeping willingly.

I find myself in such a state of uncareness I absolutely adore. I wouldn't care too much even if the Carabinieri would take me from here and put me in a cell.I still wonder if being here is something so illegal anyone would actually care.

Anyway.

Dunno what to do.
Don't feel like coming here tomorrow when everybody is in the redaction,but I think I'll have to in order to see if I start working at the classifics in the weekend or not and see where they have the phone numbers to call the trainers.
I think I'll return home now....even if I'm alone.Mom and my uncle dissappeared this afternoon and haven't seen them since,but they always do that so whatever.
Even if she asks I'll tell her I went out for a walk....that is if she was not aware I wasn't at home for the whole night...I'll just let her scream because when you have insomnia everything is far away.

Must start writing.I think I will.Something about a character totally out of her bloody mind.with lots of blood,sleepless nights and self injury and lots of smoking too.
Oooohhh..getting frantic and getting ideas....
Something against corruption,ignorance,superficiality and ignorance.Yeah,that would be good.Haven't written in a month since my inspiration came back to me....must find a black pen,I cannot think while writing with that bloody red pen it hurts my eyes.
It is your corrupt I claim,it is your evil I claim.

Guess this morning I'll go to the church in the morning around 9 and only afterwards come here.

I think I'll steal a black pen....must be one in this redaction....

3:21

bloody hell, I should sleep.

or maybe not.

If I go 5 days without sleep , probably I'll be able to write something even better,even though I'll have to hide in the bathroom or something so mom won't scream I'm staying awake and consuming electricity.She'll start yelling at me for not contributing with enough money around the house soon,I know it.But this time I'll be so far away thanks to the insomnia I won't even care enough.

Forgot what I wanted to say after this.

Anyway,just rambling , as usual.
Thinking more and more about Ireland,just like I used to and it feels good because I'm getting back to myself and letting go of all other influences.

Blah....had something to do.....

I have to sleep soemtime.
Maybe I will,next week.

Noise