Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep.*

I'm not sleeping at night, instead I'm watching infomercials. I remember seeing my first one whilst I was on holiday in the US, it was Tony Little and I found it hilarious. That was before I even knew what an infomercial was, I had watched it for 20 minutes before I realised they were selling something.

The presenters are just SO enthusiastic, I think I'm hoping they'll tire me out. My favourites are the ones which have no possible real world applications. They remind me of 'Chindogu' (I think that's what they're called). The 'Go Duster' is a prime example of this, it sounds like a good idea but who's really that lazy - it's a duster which spins and apparently makes dusting fun by giving you "an uncontrollable urge to dust". It sounds like the beginning of an anti dusting-addiction government film 'The dangers of dusting'.

I also write when I'm up at night, I'm trying to write a book, I know everyone thinks they have a book inside them but I figure if I finish it that'll be an achievement in itself. I only managed some completely off topic poems though. I did write in my first post that my poetry is twee and maudlin so you have been warned...again.


What Price?
I do not value my self at all.
It does come as quite a shock.
That I did not realise before,
was obviously a mental block.

I have thought of death as my one salvation
It’s not anymore; I want to live.
I have had an existence up to now
It’s not enough; I want to live

I want to have friends I want to have love
I want to be loved.
I want to be loved by me and another.
I want to be liked.

I want someone to know exactly what I’m like yet
Still want to be with me…

Always.

The below is rambling prose, I'm going to put everything up here, I like the idea of it's permanence. I used to be a cutter, I guess I still am, I haven't done it in months but I do think about, recently I think about it often.

I want to cut again, I find this so lonely.
I have nothing to spare me pain, I have nothing, nobody between me and Them.
They’re everywhere, pressing down on me, suffocating me, hating me, without the cutting I can’t release Them from my mind.
They just stay and fester – filling slowly with noxious deadly ‘stuff’, bloating up and out like a dead body dredged from a river 2 months after jumping. I try to ignore Them but the stench burns my eyes, and makes me cry.
I tell myself I'm better than this, but I don’t truly believe it.
I tell myself that if I ignore Them they’ll go away and I’ll have won, but I don’t truly believe it.
I tell myself They’re not really there and I'm imagining things, but I don’t truly believe it.

*Fran Lebowitz