http://anon-ni.livejournal.com/

the less-censored truth.

This job is eating at me, slowly.
I'm giving it all I've got, is what I tell them. What's true is a much different story.
Ha, story of my life; half-assed attempts at making it all work out. I guess I should face facts and try harder, but I just don't feel like I have it in me, these days.
Go get 'em, Jane.
You can do this.

Sometimes I do the most irrational things. Yet, I don't seem to see these things as irrational. It's everyone else that has a problem.
Hmm. Society is odd, I must say. What's wrong to them is normal behaviour for most people my age. . . I just happen to carry things a little far.

Or do I? I mean, I've taken notice of a pattern with my age group; rebel, rebel, rebel. Then it's time to be responsible for a moment.
How the hell does this work, anyway?

Well, the good news is that I really like my new tattoo. Whether or not any one else seems to. Why? Because it's fuckin' cool, and it's on MY body, not THEIRS.
- Fin.

I have soaked up every ounce of strength I have, for tomorrow.
It's funny...seems as though I do that for every day. Will the strength start diminishing?
I can't give up hope now, when I'm so close to a break. The monotony is fading, somewhat. But the oddities grow in number daily, and I'm not sure as though I can take it much longer.
Ah, well. I'm hungry.
Off I go.

I'm feeling this void, lately.
It's as though I'm not a real person; I don't really feel connected to anything. I guess this should come as no surprise...it IS the winter time. I lose all faith in life when the sun is gone, it seems. Last winter, I was a completely different person. I had a best friend that I was truly connected to, a living situation that was, while sometimes intense, comfortable. Men in my life that enjoyed my company, and a healthy sex life. I spent every day in the sunshine of life.
I will admit that I often times find myself missing those perks, though at times I'm glad that my fast-paced lifestyle has found some sturdy ground.
I have been sitting here thinking and re-thinking the brash course of events that have played out as my life in the past year. I find myself at a loss as to how to describe them, but I cannot be sure as to whether or not that is a good thing.
I shall work on figuring this out.

I woke up in a haze, my life sitting before me as though it was not being lived.
What is this place that I call my conscience mind?
Where am I to go from here?
I have taken steps to formulate a conclusion to this life, though for now, I have no place to call home. I have never wanted so badly to see what is to come, for some days I do not feel like getting up from my bed...I do not feel as though I can go forward from here. This forthcoming hurt that I am always feeling is constant; it cannot be ignored, pushed aside, or tossed away, it seems. I am always facing toward the anger of the past, though I seem to take steps forward.
Hmm, such, I suppose, is the irony of this life.
The irony of my good fortune, as it would seem. I hold nothing in high esteem, these days.