Hello, I'm your Friendly, Neighborhood INSOMNIAC, and this is my blog.

Who's with me? Project: Revolution

Join me on my Late-Night Journies

Let me tell you one of my Bed-Time Stories


<< January 2008 >>
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Words to live by...

"This above all: to thine own self be true."
-William Shakespeare, HAMLET

"Anything less than extraordinary is a waste of time."
-Tiffanie DeBartolo, 'Dream for an Insomniac'

"No day but today."
-Jonathan Larson, RENT

"It's alright it's ok
Welcome to this life
Don't worry sweet baby
Cuz it's over before you know"
-Leah Andreone, 'It's Alright It's OK'

"Nothing in the world is weaker than water,
But it has no better in overcoming the hard."

"Name me the final number."
-Yevgeny Zamyatin, We

Some beautiful people...

"In the quest for knowledge through experiences, the soul becomes fragile."

"Funny how hard it is to convey satire to crackwhores."
-The Tubby Parcel

"I'm going to be one of those hermits who talks to her cat and lives in huge paranoia and doesn't sleep."

"There is no true Right or Wrong.
No absolute Good or Evil.
No Truth... No Lies.
No Black or White.
Everything is relative, perceived.
There are Just Shades of Grey."

"...the only stupid or unreasonable mindset is one that is prematurely closed."

"There was a point to this story, but the narrator lost it somewhere along the way."

"The hues that color the myriad worlds of the imagination are so vivid, so compelling that all too often mere 'reality' can't compete."

"Soon enough, my armies of flying monkeys, toasters, and the undead will march upon an unsuspecting world. Well, I suppose the monkeys will fly. No use in having flying monkeys and having them march like the rest of the cannon fodder."

"sometimes i think that it's the noise stars make that keeps me awake at night."

"for the desperate attempts i have made to feel content, i must now stop. i can not live, blurred."

"Why did I get a tattoo on my wrist? So I won't slash them! I'd hate to ruin the tattoo."

"There's a lot of silence I want to say."

"A desire runs in your blood, while a need causes that blood to run."

"Sadness sells,
But I'd rather support your smile."


"I like guacamole, too. But not as much as Gandalf."

"as you trace the outline of your feet on the ground, it suddenly occurs to you how bloody human you are. you look at yourself as though you haven't done so before. and then you begin a thorough exploration of self"

"Interesting fact: Most tropical marine fish could survive in a tank of wild urban-jungle monkey blood.
But I personally wouldn't recommend trying it."

"i'm an equal opportunity insulter."

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It starts out small; little things that work their way in and begin to jab, to hurt.  And my stupid, obsessive brain begins to cycle those little things through, round and around, and those little things get bigger and they consume my thoughts until there is such a noise that I can't hear anything new, anything good.  After that, everything is colored by those stupid little things that I keep working around, and it becomes a physical pain that sets into the core of me.  I get the urge to replace food with alcohol; self-medication to dull the pain.  It's a hard urge to fight.
I'd hate to say it's the weather; I really do love the rain.  Of course, I might love it because it matches my natural melancholy.  It does remind me of some of my lowest lows, when I didn't have to cry because the sky did it for me.  I'm not that girl anymore, thank the Powers That Be, but I remember being her.  I gravitate to her old habits when I experience a room full of people I barely know, habits I've spent so long trying to fight.  If I could just tell my brain that the person I'm talking to doesn't think I'm a complete weirdo and would rather I just disappear, maybe it'd be easier.  Maybe I wouldn't have to rebuild these walls I've been trying to break down for so long.  I miss the people I knew, the ones I was sure accepted me for me (or, at least, sure enough).  Sometimes I wish I'd never moved out here, and then I remind myself that they're mostly gone now, anyway.  Or they've changed, and I've changed, and I don't know if I'd be comforted by them anymore.  But maybe if I pretend like I'm okay enough, eventually I will be.
I was so almost there.  Then I remembered; I realized who I really am.
Anyway.  Fuck.  Happy New Year.

Posted at 12:20 pm by FNInsomniac


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