6/5/96
You know why I hate people? I hate people because people walk right by me without a glance. I hate people because people gather in groups, talking, and laughing, and having a blast, fucking oblivious to anything important. I hate people because people don’t like talking to me because I’m depressing. I hate people because people don’t take time to listen. I hate people because people don’t take time to even attempt to understand. I hate people because people change their minds. I hate people because people forget. I hate people because people can’t communicate. I hate people because people make rules about right and wrong based on opinions which can never be either. I hate people because people have emotions. I hate people because people use their emotions to fight about things. I hate people because people are weak. I hate people because people doubt, because people are certain, because people think, because people react. I hate people because I am a person, and I know how much it sucks to be one. Mostly, though, I hate people because people piss me off. I hate people. All of them.
6/9/96
I’ve become a worthless disgrace and waste of a human life. I’m not fully enjoying or experiencing life now, but I’ve been there. I hope to come across some motivation soon, so I can put things back in order. Of course, when did I ever have motivation? It comes and goes faster than a full moon. All I’m really good at doing is watching and getting frustrated, more frustrated than most people know exists--passionately and violently frustrated.
9/11/96
I knew this time would come eventually; I’ve been dreading it for years. Lately, I’ve been reporting to all my classes, doing all my homework, making important phone calls, trying to kind of exist in harmony with all the other emotionless people out there who just wander around working for some goal they’re never going to achieve. Even if they do, what difference would it make in the greater scheme of things?
Recently I’m asking more questions, whereas I used to only write down the answers. I’m not particularly far along, but I’m beginning to become more like everyone else in the world. The process will probably never be fully complete since I have to retain at least some of my beliefs, but it still bothers me. Well, it doesn’t bother me so much that I’m becoming human; what bothers me is that I’m forgetting things. I always thought that if I ever got to that point, I would kill myself. I was so sincerely distraught over all these ideas that I assumed the realization that I was forgetting them would drive me absolutely crazy. Right now, though, I don’t want to die. Not yet. This is because I’m not as deeply depressed, and things don’t come to me as clearly. Therefore, I don’t get as upset. I miss that. Somewhere inside, I still know that being even remotely content is merely putting on a facade and forgetting about reality. I don’t like to forget.
9/25/96
It’s four weeks into the first semester of my sophomore year of college, and I haven’t missed a class yet. I haven’t skipped a single class, and I haven’t neglected to do any of my homework assignments. What the hell is going on? I don’t believe it. I’m doing so well. I’m so happy, and yet, I feel like I’m missing something--like a life. And I don’t mean a social life; I mean a life of tranquility and true understanding. Some people are perfectly happy without a life--most people, really.
All the things I’m doing lately take absolutely no thought. Yes, I do have to work on my homework. It’s not easy, but it doesn’t take thought. My concentration has been a lot better lately. It may be related to the coffee I have to drink to be alert, but my mind always used to be wandering. Now it’s always in the present. I hate it. I feel so worthless. I used to feel worthless because I was thinking about the lack of a point in life, and now I feel worthless because I know and accept the fact that life has no point, and I have nothing to think about anymore. I walk down the street everyday just hoping to see someone jump off a roof or run in front of a car. I want to see blood. I want to see tragedy. I want to see anything that will give me something to think about.
9/28/96
Yesterday, I went to a coffee shop with Braedon. It was really interesting. He apparently goes there all the time. It’s a cool place. We had some wonderful chocolate mint coffee. Because he goes there a lot, he knew all the people there so we talked with them for a good two hours about really cool shit. The people were all really goth. Most of them had blue or burgundy hair and every single one of them was wearing all black. Thank God I was wearing all black too, or I would’ve felt really out of place. It’s funny, too, ‘cause I haven’t worn all black for awhile.
Anyway, one of the conversations we had was about this guy they all knew who had been confronted by a group of evildoers on the street a few days previously and in order to avoid injury from them, he pulled out a knife, stuck it in his own arm, and started crying for his mommy. They left him alone. That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.
All the people we were talking to seemed happy but very obviously depressed and, therefore, very thoughtful and fascinating. Well, at least it was obvious to me that they were depressed. I guess a lot of people don’t pick up on these things.
10/12/96
I dressed in goth for the first time this weekend. I wore black boots, black thigh-high fishnets, black shorts short enough that you could see the garters, a black bustier, and a ripped black shirt. I died my hair black and wore black lipstick, nail polish, and eye shadow. It was very cool.
The intention was to go to hell night at the goth club, but hell is 19+. I borrowed Camille’s ID for the night, and even though I don’t look a thing like her, they let me in. The problem arose when they wouldn’t let Braedon in with a birth certificate. I don’t get it. He goes there all the time. Apparently, it’s a new rule. So we had to leave and we went back to that coffee shop he likes for awhile.
When we got back to my building, we sat in the lounge and talked to some random people. They were really cool. I ran into them today at school and they didn’t have the slightest clue who I was. When I tried to refresh their memory, their jaws just dropped open. They were so shocked that it had been me they were talking to. I think it’s pretty cool that people didn’t recognize me when I wasn’t in goth. It’s like I got to be someone else for a little while. I wish I could escape from myself more often.
Oh, and you’ll never guess what I did today. I got my bellybutton pierced. It hurts a little, but not as much as I thought it would. People either love it or hate it. I love it.