Wednesday, June 22, 2011

I'm a Loser Baby, so Why Dontcha' Kill Me?

It's summertime. I haven't slept till two and I'm disappointed.
I lost all my words so I'm just posting art.



I have no friends because all I do is draw.

Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Can you help me fight my dreams?

I never sleep well.
I wish I could, I want to go to sleep at a proper time and wake up feeling refreshed, not sleepier than before.
I just hate what happens when I try to sleep.
This is what happens:
I lay down in bed, extremely tired.
I close my eyes, and then, I'm not sure what it is, but I fall into this sort of half-sleep. I literally fall into it, one second I'm awake and the next I'm in this fuzzy, grey and mauve state. Except I don't even know I'm asleep yet. I think my eyes are open, but just barely, I think I'm moving in my bed, but I'm not; I'm immobilized, I can't move at all. I see my room, I think I'm awake in bed, I'm convinced everything is just so strange because I'm stoned. Except it's not like being stoned, nowhere near. So anyways, I'm in bed, I see the opposite wall, everything's blurry and growing in proportion, the walls get farther away, and closer very quickly. This all doesn't seem so bad. That's because it isn't the bad part. My door opens, I see my mother, I think she's coming to check on me, but she either stands in the doorway or runs up to me quickly, leans over my bed and falls through me, the mattress, and straight through the floor. Like a ghost, I guess? Then enormous pressure comes and sits on my knees and elbows, like someone's pinning me down. Through my half-opened eyes (remember I'm dreaming that my eyes are open) I look down on the end of the bed and see little shadows, or like last night, a frightening flickering man, blue like a corpse. Then, whatever/whoever it is starts ripping off my skin. Literally ripping it off. I can't feel it, but I know it's happening, I see it happening. I can't scream out, and again I think I'm moving but realize I haven't moved an inch, I can't. I look back to my mom to help me and see her in the doorway again and her eyes are black and blurry and she's much taller than usual and she's flickering, like when you watch a VHS movie and the picture gets wavy when you first turn it on. She just stands there and watches. I'm not breathing anymore, but I'm not dead, I'm not even allowed to die. I can't even describe how scared I am. I can't move, I can't scream, I can't even tell myself to wake up because I don't even know I'm asleep. And then, when all my flesh is gone, my mom (better yet, mom-creature) shuts my door, loudly, and I fall again. I feel a incredible jolt, as if I was thrown down onto my bed from at the ceiling. Now I know I had been asleep...rather, that awful half-sleep, and I can't shake the images from my head. So I lie in bed with my back to the door, because I don't want to see my "mother's" blurry black eyes. Eventually I fall asleep, really asleep, but I'm too wary to ever sleep well, it's always disjointed and stressful.

So that's what happens when I try and sleep, and I don't know why.
I think I'd feel better if I knew other people experienced something like this too. This isn't a one time thing. It's nightly, but it's much more frightening at my mother's house, at my dad it's just the surreal awareness and the shifting proportions of my room.

Does this happen to you? Or do you know what it is? I really would like to sleep.

And yeah, if it happens every night you'd think I'd remember that it happens and realize it's a dream, but I don't. Every time I'm convinced it's real until it's over.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

So Fucking Deep.

I need to go to Hobby Lobby.
I need to get a little black book to vomit inky black thoughts into, and scribble nonsensical doodles. And some nice art pens. Oh babysitting money, fifteen dollars of you is going to that.
Here is what my life has been reduced to:
-School
-Sleep (always bad, never refreshing)
-Drawing
-Reading House of Leaves:

That's it.
I can't even decide whether I enjoy it or not.
My life as it is I mean. I don't think I do.


One things for sure, House of Leaves is the best part.
Add that to the list of things I need to buy. Definitely becoming my favourite book, rather quickly.

Bye.
Oh, and I want a tattoo.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Dream About Me.


This isn't going to be lengthy.

I genuinely loathe going to the doctor.
Today was positively traumatizing. I'm sitting here, in shambles. I feel like I've vomited, but I haven't. I'm fear-stricken. I'm numb and lifeless and uncomfortable. Shaky and confused. It was a routine examination.

Crows are amazing. Crows are one of only three types of animals who talk to each other. They have a different voice for their family than for their friends. They can recognize a face for two years, and if threatened by the person, warn surrounding crows about the danger, and even generations following. I really like crows. I wish we had crows in El Paso.

I miss the black horse at the Jovi pasture. I saw him last night, he's such a darling. I think I'll call him Indigo. I've never seen a horse so love starved. He always puts up with me when I romp over to him, intoxicated, and pat him too roughly and speak too loudly in his teardrop shaped ears. Horses have sad eyes, and apparently I do too.

This post isn't about anything. I could write about a lot of things, but I'd rather not, nothing I blither is worth the trouble.

On a last note, I'm reading The House of Leaves. It's engrossing, consuming, captivating, mind blowing, and all other synonyms for the word. Also, it's goddamn frightening. I was reading in class today, and as I was staring out into space, with chills, in numbing reflection of a passage I had just read, someone took it upon themselves to pinch me from behind. I was shaking with terror, with clammy hands and frustrated breathing. This is a damn good book.

I lied. This wasn't a short entry. I'm a liar, another reason I'm not a good person.

-Tchus.