DIADEM
I've seen the realm of dewfall
With jaundiced lamps and golden candelabrum
Smear of cloud on your feet
flickering all over the place.
Lord, was it heaven?
But it was some time ago
Oh, my dearest Kind
It was just some time ago.
Now some time has gone
Your nightmare comes right
Slumber of being trampled, my Dear
Because you were by oneself.
Look for a devotee
Please,
behold of yourself,
you wish you were dead.
Abigail, please dispatch me some aid.
For what I'm about to write.
CORONAL
I've been wanting to write this for some time. And I will not, somehow, regret the usage of my language.
Pardon my grammatical mistakes. Or, any mistakes really. It's just, I feel much more comfortable writing in English. Because there are some words I just can't express in ours.
I love being awake in the middle of the night. I just, again, love it. It's not that I never sleep, although my record of staying awake was more than 48 hours. Yes, 48 hours with no single snore. But this is just me nowadays. I love my lonely nighttime. There's a divine elaboration of that word, 'nighttime', "the time between evening and morning; the time of darkness.". That's the coolest definition I have ever heard for such a long time. Nighttime. The time of darkness.
There are few things that I'd lovely consider to be my favorite things at nighttime. It's the mad silence. You can just listen to it. No sound. Yet, it would keep you awake. It's the madness. Your mind starts flowing out. It trembles you. And you begin to hate yourself, or incredibly satisfied with yourself. It scares you. You wish you were dead. You wish you had an illness. You simply just want to die. That's not just the silence speaks to you. It's your mind.
How uncanny of myself to think that I'm the only one feeling like this. I, sure, highly doubt it. But what differences does it make to feel this way, with those people that also think like this. They probably had accomplished their suicidal thought. Or probably got a great treatment like Naoko from Norwegian Wood. Anyway she still killed herself though. But, maybe it's just me who want to think like this. That's the thing though. I love considering myself as a very ill-minded person. A crazy one. I want to be a basketcase. I want to be invincible above my invisibility. That's the real thing. I want to go to a psychiatrist. I don't feel well. That's what I thought. If I just look alright, there's the twist, I want to be not-well. I mean, isn't that just odd enough? To feel that way?
Have you ever cried for literally no reason? I mean, you've got to loathe crying in public, but you just want to cry. And then after that you just realized, you had nothing worthy to cry for. You blame yourself for that reason. You feel like you are the filthiest human being, you take the blame on everything because of your pointless tears. And, you feel empty. You just make that tough decision. You feel empty.
Have you ever stared at nothing and wanted your inner-voice to shut up? I mean, I cried for that. What am I? Why would I want my inner-voice to shut the hell up? That killed me. Although it sounds tremendously scary and funny, I cried for it. I don't want them to come up. That's why I told them to shut up. It's not like I'm schizophrenic or all. I'm not hearing things and most certainly not seeing any odd things. It's really my voice that I don't want to talk to. I, sometimes,execrate them.
There are three exasperating times of bawl that I remember clearly. The first one was when I just got accepted at my college and I hated it. I prosecuted loudly. I really did not deserve to be here in the first place. I cried for my dead grandfather. I wanted him to come back. I still want him to be alive. I want him to appreciate the way I am. At least I think he was the only one who felt that way. I still think that no one appreciates me like he did. So that was the first one. I cried in my mom's room, but she just didn't listen. Probably mom just don't give a fuck about every whimper I said. I cried in my classroom too. Alone, in my classroom's darkness. I couldn't write the slides that my lecturer gave me, because I was busy wiping tears over my face.
Goddammit, this just makes me want to kill myself more.
The second and third breakdown were with my best friend. This happened when I realized that I am a typical cultured Indonesian woman. The one that has no self-esteem above womanliness. The one that cannot talk about vagina freely. The one that can't speak of nudity. Even though nudity was one of the first things that God taught to Adam and Eve. "Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves". It's written in the book of Genesis. I mean, come on. I'm ashamed of being me. I cried for that. I couldn't stand the burden of nudity. This freaks me out like crazy. I just blame everything more and more and more. I can't forgive myself, you know, for the blames.
See, when I'm having a breakdown, I just stop breathing. Then I close my eyes or stare into nothing. And I start to hyperventilate. Like I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to get mad. It's all over me, at the same time when I'm clutching hard into something. Sometimes I just clench hard onto me, hoping there would be blood dripping over my fingers and all. But it just never happened. You know, after that, my mind just go all over the place. I think of the nastiest things an individual could ever imagine. I mean, I'm aware of these things. I'm aware of having one of my breakdown. But I can't stop it. Or, I don't want to stop it. Because, again, it's just feel right to feel that way. I want to be mad. I want to get hurt.
I just had that kind of feeling again a couple days ago, minus all the screams and cryings. It was the hyperventilation and mind overflowing like mad. I tried to look for a help, to make it stop. I texted my best friend. But I couldn't just let her know what had happened. I mean, two times I had my breakdown in front of her, and one time she couldn't stand it and she cried over me. That's the nastiest thing a friend could've done to you. That's not all though. I acted very very vile, repugnant, and improper that time. I just cannot forgive myself for that. I'm so sorry for making that happen. Or making all the realization happen. That, now, she nor I couldn't easily appreciate the least giveaway of the creator.
Will I just pass this pace though? I mean, is this common? For adolescent in their early twenties? Am I just not-going-to-sleep out of love? I could stay awake like this for more than 24 hours and not feel a thing to my body. But my mind will just run like shit. But I like it very much. I love it. Is this considered as a self-injury or a masochist act? But who gives a fuck, you know. Everybody could stay awake as long as I do and not having their mind blown up. Maybe they just like to drink coffee, or watch football. But not me. I mean, I like coffee. But I also like my mind to be blown up. Over the racking.
But it actually feels weird because I almost believe that, somehow, I'll die in the age of 27. There, I said it. It's not that I want to be Kurt Cobain or Jimi Hendrix or Janis Joplin or the rest of the 27 Club. It's just, I feel that kind of way. It's very hard, yet simple to explain. I just feel like it. Now, that I've read Norwegian Wood I think of something else too, that my 21st will be the toughest of my life. I just feel like it. If it has to be, then be it. If not, then great. I mean, you could take an advantage of leaving young. You wouldn't see further death of anyone you love, that's the first one. Your long journey of sinning will be fast ended. I mean, come on, at least we're figuring something else out.
You know, I've got to try to be Holden Caulfield of The Catcher in the Rye sometimes. Having the best day I won't forget. Having tremendously too much feelings in a night. Wanting to run away. And watching dumb people act.
People are funny you know. You can just watch them without them being aware. Still, you laugh above their imbecility. How funny people are. So so so ignorant, moronic, imbecile, footling human being. They think they're tough. Pfffft. Come on. I've seen hatred, and human is just the worst thing that could happen to me. Or, the earth.
So, congratulations me, for being so hoggish. I love this, thank you.
Let us sing this song together:
"Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me the Horizon
Can you help the hopeless?
Well, I'm begging on my knees,
Can you save my bastard soul?
Will you wait for me?
I'm sorry brothers,
So sorry lover,
Forgive me father,
I love you mother.
Can you hear the silence?
Can you see the dark?
Can you fix the broken?
Can you feel my heart?
I'm scared to get close and I hate being alone.
I long for that feeling to not feel at all.
The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.
I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim.
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