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9 November 2008

Which Century are We Actually in Here?

I have dyed my hair and lo! The Villagers arise in ingdignation that I am soon strange freak – I can not believe their reactions as I listerned to lecture after lecture and even before I did it – I got concern from some about how |I would be viewed – I thought they were being abit silly but in this Fucking Backwards place it seems not – they were right and I was wronge – people round here are so up themselves that I want to shake some scense into them but know that they would probably break before any scense actually reached them.

8 November 2008


And so once more the pressure of normal life has me swamped and I run to those things I know work, this blog and the nshn forum. I can feel the ground rip out from benieth me and the precipiss is waiting with a hungry wide mouth.

I will not allow this to happen – I am over a year shelf harm free now and I fear that world though it looks so inviting and so controlled but the choas has me and I fight to become me once more – I will be the person I have to be reguardless of the obsticals set before me as ultamatly I am selfish.

I feel the power of my thoughts bending the world when I sit down to do my college work, I can see the potential in everything I touch and then I am at home and the Little Lady is lovely but the Ancestors swamp me and consume my thought – the very reason the King said, ‘sod it just go and do your masters – before you can do nothing other than look after the sick and old.’ I can not care for them in the way they expect I do not have the time nor the patience nor the health to do so – I am not physically or mentally stronge enough to take them and their continual demands and the world tilts benith my feet when I think on that I am expected to do.

But the stress – oh the stress of what I have chosen to do – it pour down thickly on me and prevents deep sleep and yet… and yet I crave the lost thoughts of academia and the way my brian goes fuzzy after four hours solid reading or maths or writting. I need this or I really will go insane and then I feel I am helping – just by talking and interacting with others of my true ilk – I am helping – giving them ideas and pointing out unforseen issues with what they are already doing or just considering – I feel the power, the purpose – the release and I crave it more and more.

Home feels more and more like a tether and I do not want to exist here anymore and yet…. and yet the King, the Little Lady are my world, my solid base on which everything is built and here is where the panic begins.

And so I push up to the surface though it is a receeding light to me and the pressure burns my lungs and I feel the chocking fluids of life killing me before I ever begun.