Voice of the Unspoken

The angst has only grown...

2006-10-12T02:38:07+02:00

It has been a long time since i wrote in my blog, and a lot has changed. But i guess that's the beauty of life. Today the scars on my hands and arms total 10. It seems like a landmark. I am in love, painfully so; it's a long distance relationship with someone who plays what i believe to be an important part in our safety as a nation, as an international community. He is an individual, with astute and original thoughts about anything you could imagine. We talk about all that matters, and we guard each others happiness with our lives. Then why did i distinguish a lit cigarette on my arm this evening?

Is it possible to be too in love? I lost contact with my love for a number of hours this evening for a reason i cannot divulge, but in those few brief hours i ceased to exist. I was floating in indefatigable darkness, i felt as though if i were to disapear into nothing, that not a soul would notice. Why do i feel that i am nothing without him? A woman with a good job, her own flat, good friends, good intentions, and yet i feel that if he were to forget about me i would be extinguished, like a flame under water, to ashen uselessness.

The blister on my arm is growing; it may seem like i am seeking attention, but i know none of you that may or may not read this. Not one person in my life knows about the self harming, or even seems to have noticed. I once broke down in-front of my mother, i told her i was unhappy, maybe she thought i was hormonal. I guess it's a good excuse for crazy late night ramblings. Can i burden my love with more of my inexplicable emotions? I should be on top of the f**king world, but still these holes in my hands and arms keep appearing. What the hell is going on?

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Today

2005-09-23T19:47:01+02:00

Evening friends. I thought it would be more appropriate to write a more up to date log as well as presenting you with my rather morbid and lovecraftian journal entries.

Today has progressed with a certain gothic charm, not far removed from the original zombie movies of the 1970's. I currently reside near Canary Wharf, and area so heavily populated with the mindless drones of central london's most prestigious souless corporations that often it is hard not to be sucked in by their incurable malady. As i paced my way back to the bar i attempt to manage i noticed with a rather moribund facination that everyone walked in the same rhthym, the same blank expression on their city carved faces. It was as though a superior being (probably Bill Gates or Alan Sugar) had sucked the soul from each and every one of them leaving them nothing but canvasses, created for the profitablity of capitalism. I have no issue with these men and women making money and living their lives but it begs one question; if they are all so very dissillusioned with the state of their being, as they appear to be, why do they continue to put on the same pin striped suit every day? (I of course wear the same suit everyday, but that is only because i can't afford to buy a new one!)

The reason i have entered into this particular diatribe is because i deeply care for a friend of mine, more than i think he realises and every day he goes to work, weeps into his coffee and promotes something he doesn't believe in, in a manner he doesn't believe in. This is a man with so much soul and passion and intellect, so many dreams and visions that it destroys me to see him so lost, so unhappy. But what tethers him to his current existence at 23? Stablity? The simple life. The whole notion rests before me encased in a large question mark.

I think i may have run out of steam and as the sun sets as does this particular issue.

Love, good luck and a smile to each and every one of you.

Quoth x

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Wednesday 27th April 2005

2005-08-30T20:46:52+02:00

I cannot fight this restless feeling, although i havew found a direction, i have cleared the rubble something still holds me back, stops me from embracing all the opportunities that have spread themselves like a peacocks plume before me. I feel like something is missing, my knees continue to quiver over something or someone lost and i want more than anything to return to my usual self. But then i desire mystery, a tall dark oddity to enter my life and drive me to destuction. I have felt more, good and bad, in the last few weeks than i have in 22 years and it is as liberating as it has been constricting. I am taking in too much oxygen so my mind is alive but my breaths are shallow and i become confused with a thousand memories both real and false. I long for artificial clarity, more than i have before, it produces an exstatic freedom from the boundaries of everyday life, and, although it does not produce any workable solutions it dissolves day to day concerns like falling into a lovers arms to be held in sweet contentment through the night.

To be numb because you refuse to feel causes you to question your own humanity - your own human heart - but to be numb because the world is larger than your humanity, larger than the object of your desires, larger than your very presense in the room in which you lie: is euphoric.

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Sunday 17th April 2005

2005-08-11T17:37:52+02:00

I have woken from a nightmare only to find that the dream has manifested itself in reality. I am fighting to control the female emotions that ravish my fragile body, infect my already stretched and overwrought imagination. It as though the events of the last 8 weeks never happened and yet the memory is so vivid and powerful. The nightmare has ingrained itself on my psyche to the point where it demonstrates itelf on my physical being. I am exhausted from holding back tears, exhausted from smiling and planning so enthusiastically for an uncertain future. I have talked so emphatically about the prospect of not knowing, the prospect of allowing the world to guide me in whatever manner it sees fit; but now the uncertainty is real, has become dangerous and i fight against the fear that lies with such verocity in my already churning stomach.

I cant remember what i enjoy. I cant remember what makes me happy - everything has taken on a morbid and confusing reality that i thought would only make me stronger. The truth is daunting, that i have no clue what i want, what draws a small to my lips. Even in the midst of a family night in, tears of laughter streaming down my face, my heart was distant from the mirth, my thoughts never far from what the end of the weekend signified; from what monday morning may bring. I thought uncertainty would make me happy, but it is a no more enjoyable experience than the prospect of settling. So now i travel, back 'home', insecure in my thoughts and dreading the answers that tomorrow may divulge.

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Wednesday 13th April...15 days post.

2005-08-11T00:02:12+02:00

I am being slowly deflated, like a ballon with the smallest hole at its edge, a balloon that begins round and high, a balloon that smiles from its vantage point above the heads of those striving for contentment, working, resenting their lives, their positions. Then, without warning, words are said, an action or a glance pierces its smooth edges like a knife through the heart and it feels itself falling; falling till it rests on the minds of those ithad just moments before been so free of, so unaware. Soon it rests upon the ground, its air has nearly escaped form its innards and it lays, still and dejected, forgottn and crushed. It's a tear thats easy to mend, it knows that it can be re-inflated, but the prospect is low, and this belief tat has overcome all others causes the final breaths to course from its bright exterior until it is nothing but abandoned material, scooped uo and binned.

My heart has sunk, like that balloon to the roof of my stomach, where it remains, heaving a shuddering like a small child, chastised and lost. My body is still, heavy and numb; weak and longing, sad but acceptant. It's like the end of a fantastic weekend, or the morning after the arms of a new experience when the aggressive come down to reality leaves you crossed leg in the rain in an unknown place, thinking, re-playing and analysing every move, every word to search for meaning in the sudden change of mood and circumstance.

I cannot handle these ups and downs. My heart spends it days thumping against my throat or resting in my gut, being worn away by the acid in my stomach, leaving it partial and torn. But why give in to it? Why allow your physical being to be affected by such mundane occurences, such small niggles of self doubt that cast a shadow over your soul.

The ground is cold and hard like an ex lovers heart and no words are needed when their actions are loud and obvious. It's these actions, insignificant as they may be, that freeze the blood and harden the heart. Your thoughts are muddled and self accusatory, you have said something, done something, that has affected not only your present relationship on a physical level, but the manner in which he says you name or catches you eye. But the question remains: why does it matter? We live in a society where we measure our character by the manner in which we are percieved by others. When we are measured negatively in an area such as physical attraction or 'love' then it affects how we feel about ourselves. It changes our features on reflection, the manner in which we walk or carry out day to day tasks. There is no way to monitor your character without the reaction that your individual characteristics invoke in those around you. Every mindful glance or purposeful gait means far more than it should and it drives you mad. Your skin tingles and your toes curl, your teeth clench and your mouth contracts against the words that bound around your tongue until you are choked by the sensation of swallowing a thousand conversations, most of which will never be spoken.

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Tuesday 12th April - 14 days post...

2005-08-08T21:54:51+02:00

I am standing surrounded by the rubble of a thousand bad decisions; sifting through the faces, circumstances and events searching for something familiar so it can be crushed, without remorse, underfoot. The task is slow and arduous, performed with a cold heart and empty mind. I am tied in knots houdini could not shake from, confused and lost, shaking and out of control within my own personal dystopia. A wreckage of past glory, present fuck ups and future aspirations. A baron wasteground deviod of beauty and comfort extending for miles in every direction, its borders - like a solution - nowhere in sight. Moribund buildings crumble at each step, their debris demonstrative of people whose lives i have affected, positively and negatively. Some of the images land with a smile, others grimacing, horribly disfigured and others float, unsure of where they should land, or what they have meant, do mean, will me, to me.

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Friday April 8th 2005...10 days post

2005-08-04T15:14:43+02:00

I am uncontrollably spasmodic, my knees shake like they know something i don't. My body continues to love, feel and be affected by the events that occur to my left, my right, above and below me. I exist in a constant state of foreplay with a master that has taken control of me physically but not touched my head or my heart. They remain numb, untouchable. Has he done that? or have i done that to myself? I would be scary if i did not welcome it, welcome the change - i feel like i have arrived, kicking and screaming from the womb, everything has new meaning; i am learning to use my senses all over again. Every step is wild and new, every emotion is fresh and unexpected. I have been released from emotional bars and yet i am afraid to let the sun touch me. Aprehensive of impending rain and yet i want to feel and touch these experiences, and embrace them for their delicious entry into my life. But is this living really? Having no-where to call home - a well paid vagrant that detracts from settling simply because of what it means? To know the future is to welcome death; to stand arms open welcoming it to end the drudgery that you have come to call 'life'. Why? why do it? Why deny yourself the variety, the spice of life for an emotion that resembles hunger without food, lust without sex. Surely everyone wants to escape - but how many talk of leaving but never act upon those impulses? I'm acting.

But what is love? an emotional response to a physical feeling when two mammals find themselves drawn together. You hear their name and you flush like a school girl but its not pure. In his absense you shake with a longing that has settled itself in the last place he touched, kissed. An adult movie plays on a loop inside your head as you examine every move, every action - but what are you searching for? meaning? that it means more than just two bodies joining into one for brief moments of mutual pleasure. Is life so fickle that we give away a massive portion of what makes us who we are without thought. We are but mammels who know too much, think too much, who complicate the most basic and instinctive of our urges with ridiculous talk of love. Love changes you, makes you weak, dependant, and forces you, without you realising, into abandoning your dreams, your most precious aspirations. You give it up, but for what? security, company? You must know yourself before you can truely part with 50% of who you are to another individual. Love commands, like an army general on a losing side to give in, throw yourself into the fires of hell and lose your way. Love is not blind to those that look, but those that accept it and forget why they were put on this earth in the first place.

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Ah what a mess...

2005-07-20T02:29:09+02:00

Right well the abstract diary is a working process and i have pages and pages to write, but my life has entered a minefield where i appear to be irresistable to men except the one person i have true, pure, natural feelings for; feelings i have never felt before or even thought existed. A friend told me that if its not mutual its not real, but my God it sure feels real. How can he not miss the tension, the chemistry. There is no way i have got this so wrong. If i had the guts i know what i would say:

As every ounce of my soul fights against the the beating of my struggling heart i see you.
As every breath catches in my throat,
As every muddled thought confounds my brain,
As every nerve ending tingles,
As every morsel turns to dust in my mouth,
As every star, of which you know so much, goes out,
I see you, and everything you can be, without me.

Well perhaps not that exactly, might freak him out a little bit. But one bloke i was sleeping with has turned has told me that he thinks he is falling in love with me, an ex has turned around and told me that he still has feelings for me. I man i thought i liked has become nothing compared to the man that consumes my waking hours. How dare he. How dare someone steal my logic, my intellect by messing with my emotional synapses; that is all it is, lust and biology. Its all bollox and i challenge anyone to say differently...right, im going to go cork my wine...i think ive had enough!

QuOtH x

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The pause in entries...

2005-06-28T02:11:35+02:00

To anyone that has been reading my blog i am currently in Brazil and having problems finding time to add to my abstract diary. I am still writing, and the entries do infact go to the present day. It could go on forever. But lets hope not as i only seem to feel inspired when i need an outlet for all my concerns. The pre and post dates refer to me leaving my long term boyfriend. I know it seems a trivial thing, but we were together for 4 and a half years, i had a 9-5 job and lived in a little modern surburbia, aka hell. Things got a little too real, so i ended it all. It was a bit hairy for a while, i have no home, no job, and very litte money, but seem to find solace doing a bit of travelling, meeting new people and trying lots of new things (!) i wont go into too much detail there!!

It is mainly because of the way i treated him, and the way he treated me, despite 4 years of supposedly loving each other that caused me to start writing, and attempt to make sense of the emotions that coursed so unforgivingly through my body. It simply rose the question of the origins of ´love´. I just can´t comprehend how such a powerful emotion can disperse to nothing, in only a few, short, sleepless nights.

Any comments? Any similar experiences. All this crap is driving me insane!!

Quoth.

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Friday March 18th (10 days to go...)

2005-06-11T14:22:33+02:00

Falling out of Love:

The sodden leaves are damp underfoot, she needs new shoes and the last 2 inches of her blue jeans are saturated with early morning due. Her pace quickens, her heart beats faster and she feels she can still hear his gruff, cold voice resonating in her ears, through her skull, down her spine and into her churning stomach. Why? why say those things, why treat her with such aggressive contempt?

She stops; her hands clench into fists as though around his insignificant throat, and her knuckles turn white in frustration. She can feel the churning in her stomach moving through her abdomen and resting uncomfortably in her larynx. She turns, looking through the bowing canopy of reverend, twisted branches as if to call out to anyone, anything that would listen. But she swallows, her face contorts, she commands her tear ducts to with-hold their flow and continues on her way, far, far away.

Now her pace is slow, deliberate, each step an act of defiance to the thing she has developed an unabounded hatred for. It came from no-where, rose like a tidal wave out of a still ocean to engulf her with total and uncompromising fear and disgust. It washes over her in suffocating waves like the bile rising from her liver and she wretches, dry and spasmodic into the undergrowth. She kicks the damp grass, scuffing her already mud-caked shoes, she stamps her feet, punches the trees, tears at the damp bark. She wants to self-destruct, descend into self induced delirium but the prospect of artificial amnesty is unlikely. She stops again, abandons the thought of going home, abandons the thought of ever going back - not that the thought had crossed her muddled ever darkening mind. She spots a clear area, slips off her jacket and hunkers down on the cold gound, lifts her hip flask to her lips and renews her inebriation with a long slow embibement of the warm liquor. She lights her last cigarette and slips into a bewildered acceptance of her deteriorating state. Night, turns to morning, turns to dawn as the sky bleeds and she looks to the new day for an answer, but she knows that this is only the first stumble of her long awaited fall.

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Thursday March 17th 2005 (11 days to go...)

2005-06-10T19:04:04+02:00

Falling in Love:

It's glorious, positively glorious. I am warm from the toes up. It's like stepping into the ocean, heated through generations by the indefatigable nature of our sun. Step by step the warmth filters through the body until your cheeks turn rosy with a glow outshone only by a smile, a gaze. The endorphins are wildly rampaging through your skin, fat, muscle and bone, a chemical reaction to a chemical encounter, electric but unsatisfying. It is like having an itch that can't be scratched, but the itch is welcome, it tenses the fingers, draws them into a fist coupled with a sigh, an expression of built up aggression, or passion perhaps.

It is like not having enough air, but having too much and existing in a state of mirth, compensated by the desire to weep, to shout to scream. The heart fights inside your chest, it beats too fast and your body shakes with excitement. It's a mass of contradiction - comfort and discomfort, complete exstacy and total, uncontrollable fear. You can feel every beat of the human pump; every rush of blood that sends you hot, then cold again. It's like wanting to sneeze, hiccup, laugh and cry all at the same time. It's out of control,, and yet so very perfect, natural, human. It's the one thing that makes you feel truely alive. The natural high that livens the spirit, increases awareness. Your soul rests upon your tongue so that every word uttered has a purpose and means infinately more to you and the source of your joy and inexplicable physical state. If the feelings were to be bottled, labelled and mass manufactured the world would glow in a constant state of excitement and anxiety, the very ground on which we stand would shudder with desire and heave with the air coursing through its layers.

If you imagine the earth, blissfully unaware, orbiting the sun, until one day the sun represents something more, it shines with more vigour, it warms the earth with an intensity it had not felt before. This new and exciting turn of events would send the earth on an irregular orbit. The days moving toward the sun go fast with the anticipation of their next meeting. The sun, as if aware, draws the earth towards its heat with arm like rays but the earth gets coy and quietly circles the sun, its face turned away until the moment has passed and it continues on its journey....now the earth has a heavy heart, knowing that the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months till its return will drag lke a rainy day - with no end in sight.

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Impurity: March 16 2005

2005-06-09T02:06:57+02:00

Do not underestimate my fear of being alone. For someone so extraverted; who thrives on new experiences, the new emotion pushing its cold boney fingers through my skin is shocking, unexpected, and not welcome. My gut is performing my personal interpretation of War of the Worlds, pricking my stomach lining with a dull ache, an ache where the butterflies should be. In fact their fragile wings have turned to ash seeking to poison me with undeserved sentimentality. I am being torn apart like leven bread at my own last supper, drowned in wine and saturated, swollen like a suckling pig at the farmers table.

My body is tomented by 1000 pins, taunting my flesh with small irritating pricks that lack the power to break the skin. Every pin sings a love song in a small, out of tune, strained voice, a sound made more horrific by booming voices; disapproving self-righteous grumblings reverberating through the chambers of my pounding brain. The sounds and sensations are driving me mad like the beating of the tell tale heart. They all come together in a montage of sounds and images that make me fall to my knees, out of control. I feel like i am falling apart, layer upon layer, peeling, cracking, crumbling into a ball, scrunched up and discarded; kicked and shattered like day old snow.

Where has it all come from? The entire experience is like waking up in a strange place with little or no recollection of how you got there, turning and facing the dire realisation that you are totally, uncontrollably lost.

Everything is so alien, the physical and emotional turmoil coursing through my veins, fighting with my senses, is leaving me exhausted and empty, confused, vunerable and longing - so much - for the solution to this constant state of proverbial atrophy freezing my muscles, making them tremble.

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The major question....why do this at all?

2005-06-09T01:37:30+02:00

Introduction: Good evening to the internet sub-culture; I am an over intellectual depressive wannabe and i will find myself staring into the face of madness if i do not find an outlet to all the confusiion and 21st century angst that ravishes my 22 year old body. I plan on including my diary entries from the beginning of March (05) to verbalise what has been happening to me and to aid those that cannout find words to express some of the most complex and confusing of human emotions: love, and the fragility of male female relationships as you get older. The manner in which we seek to relate to the opposite sex, and how it changes depending on what extent we desire control and power in a relationship; to what extent the gender roles can be horrifically altered, and the notions of masculinity manipulated.

I have spent some time looking into the purpose of love, and i have come to the cynical conclusion that it is nothing but an emotional response to a physical desire. A way to explain the endorphins that rampage through your body when you have that chemical bond with someone. A way to make sense of your surroundings when everything is crashing, like the rubble of a thousand derelict buildings, around your feet.

So, when the urge takes me, i shall start to write the events of the last 10 weeks in order to make sense of them. In order to save myself from self-destruction, and return to normalcy and clarity....but the question remains to be asked, is that what i want?

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