It's the 7th of January and I haven't even been to college yet. It's snowed here so college was cancelled yesterday and today.
I'm eating relatively normal - For me, eating relatively normal means eating when I think about it. So sometimes I'll eat alot because I'm bored and all I think about is eating...or sometimes I won't eat until my stomach starts hurting because I just won't think of it because I'm busy doing something else.
My college courses are boring the hell out of me. As soon as my sister picks me up a prospectus, I'm signing up for a different course for Creative and MEdia...whether I'll get in on level 2 or level 3, I don't know, it depends on what grades I get for the ones I'm doing now.
I'll be lucky if I pass at all.
I go back to work on sunday. The only reason I'm looking forward to it is work means money and money I need at the moment - unfortunately. If I have the money to, I'd probably never leave the house.
I'm finished with malborough house, I've once again convinced everyone that I'm perfectly happy and sane.
THat's not a complete lie I suppose. I am bordering on happy...I've never been sane so that doesn't really count.
Now I guess I suppose I should explain the title of today's blog post.
I'm a writer. I'm not published or anything, it's just my natural...I guess you could call it talent although my stories are definitely nothing special.
THe story I'm working on at the moment I've been working on...on and off for the last seven years at least. It's a very involved story lol.
But it makes me sad. I've created this world and all these characters. And I mean fully created this world. There are kingdoms and cities and seas and a world history and everything. Details on everything. It's getting to be as involved and detailed as JRR TOlkeins Lord of the rings, though I'm a ways off getting it up to his standard. I'll never be as good as Tolkein but that's not what's upsetting me about it.
The point is, you can create this world in as much detail as you want, but you can never be part of it.
You can create characters and make them act however you want, but you'll never meet them. You grow attached to the world, start to love the characters...but sooner or later you have to come back to reality and accept the fact that you live in this world, not the one in your head.
Make no mistake, if there was some way I could transport myself to the world I've written about, I would go in a heartbeat.
I believe that somewhere is a dimension of 'belief'. That is, there's a dimension that's filled with whatever you imagine, kind of like in never ending story.
Maybe I even lived on my created world in a past life and I can write about it now because it's like a distant memory.
I mean, I don't know if any of you ever get this, but sometimes when I write, I get to a bit that just clicks, and it just feels like I didn't even come up with it, y'know. It's like I already knew it ages ago.
It's kind of hard to explain.
But it makes me so sad that I have to come back and live in this world. I've probably said before, I hate this world. And I've never felt as though I actually belong here, never, even as a child.
In the last 18 years I can't rememeber a time where I ever felt at home, there's never been a sense of belonging that I've read about.
The only reason I'm not trying to kill myself again is because I believe everything happens for a reason. I have some sort of purpose to perform on this world.
You see, it's all to do with energy. There is a natural balance to the universe that I'm sure you know about; hot, cold, light, dark, good, bad, night,day, etc etc etc.
Connecting all of these is energy. Everything done and thought and said, all of it, it all creates an energy. When you die, there's no way you just simply die and that's the end. Death is just a transference of energy. You were human energy, your human body dies, you rejoin the energy of the universe and it starts again, though not necessarily as a human on earth.
Anyway, whatever, explaining what I believe has nothing to do with it.
When I've done what I'm here to do, I think I'm going to know it, and I think then I'm supposed to kill myself. I don't know why, but the only way I can see myself dying is by my own hand.
Besides, if I kill myself, it's down to me how I do it. Not because some pyscho decided to shoot me, not because I got blown up by some suicide bomber who's beliefs I do not share, not because I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Suicide may be seen as the cowards way out, but I never claimed I wasn't a coward and it feels right to me.
I can't imagine myself ten years from now. I just can't do it. I certainly can't see myself in my dream job.
And I'm not sure I'd even want to have my dream job. I can't see myself ever being truly happy. No one's ever truly happy.
Everyone has their own way of coping with the fact that our world of so called civilisation is going down the drain. I hate todays world. I hate guns, I hate cars, I hate industry, and I hate technology. I mean, yes, I have a computer, but that's because most things happen on the computer now.
I even hate modern medicine to a certain degree. It goes against Nature to make a woman who's sterile pregnant. She was obviously not meant to have a child. I'm sorry for those who want children but can't have them, I truly am. I might be that way myself. But fertility treatment is another of mankinds stupid ploys to play god.
I can't even begin to explain how much I despise this reality. I despise this world and most things in it and I would do anything to be somewhere else.
My way of dealing with this is writing stories. I get so wrapped up in what I'm writing that I go for hours without stopping and for a little while I forget that I'm not there.
And then something happens, I'll need a pee or my mum will call me or something like that... and it all shatters.
I'm bordering on madness day in, day out. It's a terrible feeling.
You can create a world in as much detail as you want...
...but you'll never be part of it.
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