Silently screaming,
Upon the hills of Eden,
Hiding,lifelessly.
A haiku inspired by the screaming emo music blasting in my room at the moment. It seems as though I have felt that way, whether I realize it or not. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to the 1800's. Back then, death was so much in front of you. Popular entertainment was to visit hangings, or watch beheadings. If someone died then, it was "Okay, you're gone, but it was going to happen anyway." Through two hundred years of change, death isn't as much a common occurance. When someone passes away, people mourn for days,weeks,months, sometimes even years, and it greatly affects us. It is very bothersome to me. I do miss the people that passed away, but I don't dwell on it for years. Like certain people, whom I shouldn't speak. To conclude my death speech, I'd like death to be up front again. Not because I am homecidal, but because it will relieve the world of the constant mournings and awful horror movies based on killers, which most are. rolleyes
Pieces of my life: PT II
Silence. With faint music in the background, I'm not hearing very much, aside from the clicks of my letters being pressed into the computer. It is very lonely, though right now I am glad that I am. I watched Scrubs, which is good because I didn't miss it today,lately I've been missing it. I did, however, convince my mom into getting me the first season DVD of the show. I'm really bored, but I am happy that I am not wasting my time talking to people. Talking for the most part gets me stressed out, unless of course, it is the one man on earth that makes me happy. Stress leads to anxiety. I got so stressed out, I had an anxiety attack again today. It was hard to breathe, and when I did finally get my respiratory system working well again, my head still hurt from all of the commotion. People come to me for guidance with their problems. I have problems of my own, but I try to help and be the best person that I can. And sometimes, it's too much for me. At a deeper level, anxiety turns into fear. After the attack, my hidden phobias burst out like rain in April. That I know of, I have two.
Autophobia- Fear of oneself
Agoraphobia- Fear of crowded places
Since my house only consists of four other people and three animals, my agoraphobia usually stays hidden. Which it did. But today, after my anxiety attack, which Jesse had to listen to, my autophobia started it's magic. I passed a mirror. As usual, I stopped to check my hair. I met my own eyes, and my heart pounded in terror. I didn't bother to finish my hair, I just returned to my room and continued the Gaia christmas Event and dancing in my seat to the emo genre that makes me happy.This morning, the day after, it no longer affects me. Though I was startled by an awful nightmare that occured. I don't remember it vividly, like I did when I awoke, gasping for air, relieved that it was only a dream. There was a large asian male, do not know his name. He owned land, mostly hills. A small dimly lit house was at the base of these hills. Somehow he controlled me, like I was his slave. There was another slave, older, red beard. He acted as if he were my father.
Fear. Anger. Anxiety. I cried again today, the first time in a long time.
I have no idea what's wrong with me. I can't look at myself. Don't want to see my face. I can't, I won't. Something lies behind it, something...malicious. I don't know what to do with myself, I won't know what to do. I am compelled to write, to listen. ButI will not look at my face. Never again.
Upon the hills of Eden,
Hiding,lifelessly.
A haiku inspired by the screaming emo music blasting in my room at the moment. It seems as though I have felt that way, whether I realize it or not. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to the 1800's. Back then, death was so much in front of you. Popular entertainment was to visit hangings, or watch beheadings. If someone died then, it was "Okay, you're gone, but it was going to happen anyway." Through two hundred years of change, death isn't as much a common occurance. When someone passes away, people mourn for days,weeks,months, sometimes even years, and it greatly affects us. It is very bothersome to me. I do miss the people that passed away, but I don't dwell on it for years. Like certain people, whom I shouldn't speak. To conclude my death speech, I'd like death to be up front again. Not because I am homecidal, but because it will relieve the world of the constant mournings and awful horror movies based on killers, which most are. rolleyes
Pieces of my life: PT II
Silence. With faint music in the background, I'm not hearing very much, aside from the clicks of my letters being pressed into the computer. It is very lonely, though right now I am glad that I am. I watched Scrubs, which is good because I didn't miss it today,lately I've been missing it. I did, however, convince my mom into getting me the first season DVD of the show. I'm really bored, but I am happy that I am not wasting my time talking to people. Talking for the most part gets me stressed out, unless of course, it is the one man on earth that makes me happy. Stress leads to anxiety. I got so stressed out, I had an anxiety attack again today. It was hard to breathe, and when I did finally get my respiratory system working well again, my head still hurt from all of the commotion. People come to me for guidance with their problems. I have problems of my own, but I try to help and be the best person that I can. And sometimes, it's too much for me. At a deeper level, anxiety turns into fear. After the attack, my hidden phobias burst out like rain in April. That I know of, I have two.
Autophobia- Fear of oneself
Agoraphobia- Fear of crowded places
Since my house only consists of four other people and three animals, my agoraphobia usually stays hidden. Which it did. But today, after my anxiety attack, which Jesse had to listen to, my autophobia started it's magic. I passed a mirror. As usual, I stopped to check my hair. I met my own eyes, and my heart pounded in terror. I didn't bother to finish my hair, I just returned to my room and continued the Gaia christmas Event and dancing in my seat to the emo genre that makes me happy.This morning, the day after, it no longer affects me. Though I was startled by an awful nightmare that occured. I don't remember it vividly, like I did when I awoke, gasping for air, relieved that it was only a dream. There was a large asian male, do not know his name. He owned land, mostly hills. A small dimly lit house was at the base of these hills. Somehow he controlled me, like I was his slave. There was another slave, older, red beard. He acted as if he were my father.
Fear. Anger. Anxiety. I cried again today, the first time in a long time.
I have no idea what's wrong with me. I can't look at myself. Don't want to see my face. I can't, I won't. Something lies behind it, something...malicious. I don't know what to do with myself, I won't know what to do. I am compelled to write, to listen. ButI will not look at my face. Never again.
