kā lai saprot sevi, kā lai nepatīkamās domas aizbīdīt, izstumt no prāta? es nespēju, un mocos jau otro nedēļu. es nezinu, vai es vispār gribu atkal dzert. jebkad. briesmīgi ir tas, ka, kad es beidzot sāku sevi pieņemt, vismaz cenšos, viss noiet griezi. es atkal sevi ienīstu, ahahhahaahā! tāds naids ir sulīgs, pat patīkams. es zinu, ka es sevi nicinu. Un patiesībā es no tā netikšu vaļā nekad, nekāāāād.... mans prāts ir iestrēdzis nesasniedzamos ideālos. es saku un neticu.

derētu kādriez piedomāt pie darbībām. hmm.

un kārtējā negulētā nakts.

ieslīgšu savā "otrajā dzīvē". vismaz tur esmu savādāka, jo nemūldu.

i lay my hand on the mouse and another hour goes by,
then another,
and another, accompanied by apple bites and cereal, nectarines and blueberries. and toast. and carrots, and anything else in sight. then chocolate, not to mention breakfast and lunch.
but i spot myself in the mirror again, and everything changes. Daily, like it was set by the clock: always after, never before. always at the idle moments, making me hate my self even more, and cherish the sentence whilst saying it.
but that wasn't what i wanted to write.
I glanced up at the clock and realized time has flown by and wasted... and i rushed out frantically, searching for something to paint, something.... anything... but of course, what ever i choose is just a last-minute resort. my mother never accepts. neither did she this time, but what does it matter.
two hours past, and i'm back with a small, square shaped painting of flowers. I'm told they look like boring dress fabric, and my mood sinks even lower. but not low enough, not yet.
until i'm reminded again of people i don't want to see
and through that, through that.... i'm reminded again of my self
analyzing my thoughts and actions never gets to any conclusions, just tears
again
i wonder how often i cry, i've never counted. a few times a week, perhaps? it would be curious to find out.
And with all this, i realize again how imperfect i am. how rude and awful, especially to those who i should be more careful with.
i'm ghastly
to be truthful,
i'm not nice at all. not underneath those smiles and endless laughter (and polite frazes, can't forget those). I'm raw and rigid. and sharp, snarling and shouting at the top of my voice.
unfortunately, it always comes out whilst talking to potential friends. I always get bored mid-way through, and then i regret it.

well guess what, sabine, it's fucking happening again. let's see you try to stop it, just like you try to stop your self crying at night, eating at day, and talking, blabbering endlessly.

ahhaāāa, endless ramble that only i can squeeze meaning out of.

oh, i almost forgot - two new oekakis ~30 minutes on each

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