I am one considerably fucked up individual.

Yeah, not right now. I fully intend to write this.

But with my current fits of nervous packing the lack of sleep and the inability to think straight I'll give this one a pass.

I will edit this with something more substantial later. I might start looking for typos in previous entries now.

To People Like Me...

You are going to have to do unpleasant things when something more fun is there and available. You either decide that what you want to do is worth more to you than a short term gain and you go for it, or bow out gracefully now and go do something you hate in exchange for what little time you can spend doing something fun. And if what you do turns out to be fun then good for you, but remember you chose this path, whether you tried and failed, tried and succeed or never tried at you are the one who made the decisions. The choice to not do an assignment or study for an exam. Or the choice to bow out. Just make sure you have something fun. somewhere in there is something that you can really unwind doing. Because otherwise life is going to be hell. Don't overdo it, don't saturate your time with things that are only fun, because otherwise you may find it hard to pay for your rent or food. Life is made up of unpleasant moments and pleasant moments both.  You take what you get and you take what you can make.

My body is so abused.

I don't sleep unless I collapse, I eat sporadically, I rarely exercise.

I am a mess and I'm to apathetic to change.

Borrowed words and burrowed words.

There is a beauty in fire, man is forever fascinated by it. The giver of life and mother to modern civilisation some might say. Fire is both friend and foe, a tool which when directed correctly enables man to make nature his own. But if not respected this tool will just as easily bite it's masters hand than those he would use it against. Even today for all our advances we are still reliant on fire. On heat and light to prove our mastery over nature.

I sit here next to a fire which I made using wood that I cut into kindling. The delicate arrangement of materials, the strike of the match. This fire grew under my care until I deemed it safe to simply contain it. The steady burn of the embers and the flare of the flames as it eagerly lapped at the food given to it. I choose fire instead of light bulbs. I burn it hotter than I had before, air and wood devoured in copious amounts drives the temperature higher and higher. Driving away he darkness.

But I'm still cold. I feel my bones warm but a coldness grips my chest. It's cruel to say it but I've never felt warmer than when I was wrapped in your arms.

The reality is I'm cold. And no fire has warmed this chill.

Where do you go

when your safe places are miles away and you can't even find a place to hide in your own head. I'm sad and I don't know why. Like I'm not allowed to be happy. I'm so cold.

I've had altogether to much time to avoid thinking about everything.

I've had enough of avoiding problems. I'm becoming blunter. I just don't give a shit any more. And I'd rather other people did as well. If you have a problem, then say you have a problem and we work it out. No beating around the bush. But the most frustrating thing about dealing with people are the people who look down on you for holding an opinion different to your own. And you know that nothing you say will ever make a difference to them, they have their ideas and if you don't agree then you don't matter. I mean does believing in God and Evolution make me a worse person? If you say that one precludes the other then I would point you to the schools of thought that are labelled as theistic evolution. Essentially meaning that while there are not seven literal days of creation God was not entirely divorced from the creation process as classic evolutions propose. Now I have not taken anything from the Bible. I have merely made it an allegory for events on a much larger scale. However in spite of this some people would openly condemn me for holding this view. Compare this to revelation, no one in my religion would say that it's actually going to happen, so they accept that allegory but dismiss this one out of hand. I don't understand people. I really don't.

I live in the moments between second winds.

Happiness is like glass, it's there you know it's there but you kind of relegate it to the background. It becomes merely something that exists but shouldn't really be acknowledged. When was the last time you paid attention to the glass in the window. You probably noticed the window but didn't consider the glass itself. Take care to notice happiness. It makes things bearable.

I'm on my own.

At the Massey library and for the past ten minutes I have done nothing but stare out the window. I have no friends at this institution. The past few days I have had barely any company. I feel steadily more and more alone.

It's like my ideals are the only thing keeping me up. Ideals and fantasy worlds. I want to be the hero, but right now I'm the unimportant NPC. I am living more and more in my own fantasy's. I'm losing touch with reality. And I don't mind it. But I know there are people that do. People that expect certain things from you.

I feel cold.

"How did we win that one?"

"I think it was the tank tryndamere." It sure as hell wasn't the Kog'Maw who went huge, 13/6/17, was pretty much the only thing keeping your towers from being smashed down in seconds. I thought that I would receive recognition for that, but no the man who was most vocal got the praise. Thank you Chris for actually trying to give me something. I imagine I sound bitter about this, I think resigned would be a better tone. I know I carried, I just didn't think that after that I would have to go out and look for praise. I hate doing it but when I'm feeling down and then something like that happens. Class A performance I just expected a little something, Just a good job from the other four. But it happens with Blair, he has the best ranking so thus he is the best and must receive praise.

When I read this in my head I know what I sound like but I'm fully aware that people will see it as me whining, and there's nothing I can do about that save read it out.

I tried.

I did try, I honestly tried my best.

Look I honestly don't know what to call this.

At what point do you give up? When do I stop trying?

This is my comic book idea.
The book takes place in the mind scape. Then book is narrated by a cynical Fox whose colour changes. Jack, the protagonist, is blob of white and black goo who see's a man walking by and copies his appearance, he then follows him to try and understand what he should be doing to properly copy him, Jack hates his gooey form and this man is the first other thing Jack has ever seen. While following this man Jack meets a group of three cats, a woman, a suit of armour without a person inside and another blob of goo. The man is supposed to be unreachable and I never really wanted him to be integral. he was just a reason for Jack to keep moving. The woman was supposed to be representative of the supernatural, the world will act with her and she sometimes helps and sometimes hinders Jack. The three cats are representative of fears and desires in duality. They were about having fun while being aware of the bad things. The suit of armour is about loss. He's lost the person that person who really made his existence and he doesn't know what to do. The other blob of goo is about hatred. Jack wants nothing more to be something else and this blob of goo hates him because of it.

When I actually get an idea for a first issue I'll just try it out. I may need to ask around for an artist. I also need to figure out how many pages or the whole layouts and stuff. I have no experience with this.

I don't want to talk.

I want to be talked to, I want someone else to start the god damn conversations. Just something like, "Hi Jordan, how was your day?"

I feel like swearing, like screaming curse words at the top of my lungs.

I feel like punching something, someone.

I am far from fine, I am unhinged.

I've slept three hours in the past 36.

The fox who tells the stories of the shapeless man who can't outrun his own thoughts, followed by doubt, pity anger and sorrow.

A mystery like a ball of yarn which unravels from the inside out.

A curled fist, an empty palm, two tablets of Panadol.

I broke it, me. I took the little pieces and made an abomination then laughed myself to tears then cried myself to sleep.

You curl one finger at a time, you see the tension build in your wrist. The thumb covers the fingers, the thumb keeps the fingers in check, ready and waiting.

The mind will fall to pieces long before your body will, if it's poked and prodded in the right ways.

Faith is the hardest thing to display.

Because I look for the immediate, the cause and effect, the then and the the only a little later. I've always said I was religious, but just belonging to a religious community doesn't make me religious does it? I have considered renouncing my faith several times, the same way I have considered baptism several times. But do you know what has stopped me both times? The feeling of being alone. I've lost my school friends to the big wide world, all I've got left are a few that I kept contact with and the people from my religion. If I give up the religion where are my friends? I don't make new ones that easily. I'm a heavy introvert. So each time I wanted to renounce my faith because I didn't know if God existed I was told by myself, "where would you go? with who?" And every time I considered baptism I reminded myself of the times where I doubted and told myself that I can't commit, not yet I need to know more. But that's the problem with faith, it's a bout believing in something that cannot be proved, at least not in the literal sense. There are many proofs but I just, I don't know how often he acts for me, and why he does it, I neither see nor comprehend so I tend to factor it out. And it's a bad habit for someone who is supposed to believe in God.

But sometimes I wish it was a little more immediate, at least then I would be able to have a more concrete faith. Maybe if I understood how the intervention took place then I would more willing believe. But for now I'm stuck in the awkward space of wanting to believe, but not for all the right reasons, and failing to believe and not knowing what to do with myself outside of this particular path.

I need help but I'm to afraid to ask for it in case I would be looked down upon. I feel that others, because they never openly display it have very little problems with faith. That's probably not true but I can't help but feel that way. I've asked for help once and I had one person be genuinely helpful and the rest just threw things that I had heard before back at me. I think what I need most is someone else who feels this way so I could work it out with them. But I would never openly admit it. So I'm stuck in limbo. Limbo Sucks.

Why..?

Why is it now? Why would you come back to haunt me now?

I share a house...

with three people my ages who are all the same religion and I have known for a very long time. And yet I feel more alone than ever. I asked myself last night when I was in bed, why do you feel alone? Perhaps it's because I never seem to interact with them, I just see them in the morning and then at dinner time. I don't know anybody at my courses. I have developed sevre... sivir... very bad social anxiety issues. I honestly feel that I will move back after this semester is done. I like the student lifestyle but I don't think that I will be able to last here. I wanted this to work, very much so. But I just feel alone. I been having panic attacks. Not as bad as my mums or anything that would get me some kind of medication but I don't know how else to subscribe it. I will be fine when I have things to do but whenever I get even a small amount of downtime I just start to panic about money, about uni, about how lonely I am, about how I look.

As always I don't expect pity, I don't expect any action. It's enough to know that someone knows.

So Cold.

Well this lasted all of twelve seconds.

I want to go back home.

It took me a while...

... to arrive at this conclusion, but I figure that it's the right one. I mean I spent a hell of a long time thinking about this. I don't think I'm ready for any kind of relationship. I don't know how long I kept thinking about the people I've liked and gone out with just over and over. All about how I should have done it better. You can't carry that kind of stuff into a relationship, it's not fair to the other person. When you expect to fail you are more often than not greeted with it. But I still don't know how I'm going to deal with the people that I may fall for. I mean... Eugh I don't know what I mean. I know how it is in my head but when I type it or when I try to explain it it just comes out a garbled mess. Everyone is entitled to a little time being morose aren't they? I just don't know whether feeling that I was meant for something more than this is really something I believe or just me being conceited.

I've had voices in my head for a while now, then moved in at adolescence. They remind you that you should be acting better than normal because I pretty girl just walked in, they remind you that nobody laughed at your joke and now you look like a prick. They remind you that you are a nobody. Just another face in the crowd of people that wouldn't know your name or care. I don't think I'm mad. Everyone has those voices, but I gave mine shape and form and I let them dictate how I act for a very long time now. And I will probably still listen because hell what else do I have.

I whine to much. But where else do I go? Some days I do think I'm losing my god dam mind. And some days I figure that losing my mind is far to melodramatic for me.

Fuck you life, you have this terrible habit of confusing me so badly.