Found It

I know what I want now.

I want to go to art school. The thought of it had always frustrated me because of all the people I've met and seen that go or have gone to art school. They all think they understand how the world works. All of them do rip-off versions of other people's rip-offed versions of other people's ideas. They are all fucking blind (and not in a good way either!). They are all insecure and unstable with themselves but they still think they know everything. I don't want to be seen as one of those people! The chances of anyone in S.F. thinking the same thing when they see an art school kid is probably just a handful, but I can't help but think that everyone thinks that, even the people that go to art school.

What has held me back from going to an art school like I've wanted to when I had found out it exists, is the people, the cost and if I could get a job later after spending so much money and time it it. Now it doesn't fucking matter to me.

I've been drawing since I picked up the pencil. I've been writing since I got locked up in the mental hospital. I've been sculpting since I carved that creature out of wood in my Facilities Maintenance class at Jobcorp. I've been painting since I got my own watercolor set. There is not a day I don't write or draw something. I've been doing this my entire life and this is all I want to do.

I want to live in Pacifica. I'll drive to S.F. to work as a stripper so it'll pay for the ridiculously priced schooling. It's perfect, except for the stripping part. I'll be able to be by the ocean all the time and enjoy the fog that manifests itself daily. It'll be a quiet place, no overgrown teenagers screaming at each other, no children crying, no one to cringe at except at grocery stores.

The thought of this puts me at peace. I've never been happy about putting things together, I didn't think I could handle it. Ever since I was a kid I wasn't happy about getting my own place or winning a million dollars, I wouldn't be happy about it even if I wanted it. I'm used to things not going the way I want it to, I'm used to things going bad, so that's what I looked forward to... For everything to fall apart, even me.

Ocean, coffee, gaming, dreaming, astral projecting, learning, art school, shooting guns, publish books, paint and draw my astral travels and dreams, sculpt figures, parkour and circus training, publish my Serial Killer Romance novels and comic, mushrooms, and photography.

It sounds really good to me right now.

Running On Two Hours Of Sleep, Again

After eating a leftover chicken wrapped in foil with my bare hands and eating chicken-potato-wrapped-tortilla with jalapeno and cheese, I was inspired to start taking dandelion supplements. My grandpa is a herbalist, he owned a hospital before he moved to the States. Anyway, dandelions give you a detox everywhere, blood, skin, liver, they're really good for after you eat fast food. I was thinking about this because the chicken in the foil must have been weeks old if not months, I have no idea how old the chicken-potato-wraps are or how long the cheese has been sitting out here in this kitchen. I think I could really use one of my grandpa's dandelion extracts.

Since I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight, I've dedicated my time to making miniature polymer clay masks and finally reading Seeing With The Mind's Eye. This book has been bursting with good energy since I've seen it, maybe it's from all of those people that have become enlightened from this book or maybe it's just from the words written inside.

Very recently I've been doing things in dark I would get up in the middle of the night to get some water and I would do everything in the dark, walk down the stairs, through the hall, pour the water, drink the water, in the dark. It was strangely more comfortable and peaceful than when the lights are on. There was less "noise". Ever since I was a kid I've always been completely terrified of it. It wasn't until a month ago I could finally sleep with the lights off. The lights now, I've noticed, have been the cause of my sickness and my lack of motivation, it is what causes fatigue and my monstrous headaches.

I've also learned that I can not concentrate no matter how hard I try, around my laptop (even when it's closed). I tried reading a very interesting book today, but I could get a few words down and my mind would trail off. My laptop was closed, I had my book on top of it, but I couldn't focus. I was very calm too. I relocated myself to the couch, where I was able to read three pages before I had a strong urge to get up and do something before I forgot about it. Upstairs, in my room, I am able to finish books in one sitting. I would go away in it for hours and not even notice the words I'm reading or when I turn the pages. I lose this ability the closer I get to the laptop. I think the radioactivity that comes to and from it does something to my aura, to people's aura, maybe (besides the multi-tasking installing short-term memory into people brains) that's why people are so all over the place in the thoughts and words.

Sitting Around With A Blanket And The Windows Open For Hours

I am currently over at Steve's. It's four in the morning and I am awake by myself.

I drank A LOT... I couldn't even walk straight (and I am one of those weirdos who has perfect posture when drunk), but having an addictive personality, I hate and am really uncomfortable with lowering down (even just a little) to the normal state of mind. I remember stopping somewhere in the middle of Steve's house, telling him, "I think I'm depressed", he asked me why, but I don't remember what I said.

I made Steve these cinnamon-nutmeg-cookie-stick-monsters that came out of the toaster oven yesterday, I forgot to take a picture, I'll ask Steve to take one later, he only had one because he wanted to show his roommates.

Steve's refrigerator is growling along to Gehenna.

I did inventory work to loud pounding metal. That is one of the greatest moments of work in my life.

A couple days ago, I was raging with pure determination to get rid of a piece of skin that clung to my back. Skin and blood clung deep under my fingernails and made my hands slippery and sticky. That piece of my flesh was something that held me back and kept me down, so I got rid of it. I left it bleeding all over my back. The part of my body that vibrated failure is gone and the pain is a reminder.

The blockage is gone and everything that has been holding me back is quickly falling out of my way.

Vomit, Bile and Salt.

It is 2:54AM and I am sitting and poking at things. I can't sleep again.

I went onto myspace, I haven't touched things on there since December 2010, it's October 2011 now. I felt like my heart was going to shatter. Old memories came rushing at me so fast I thought I was going to drown.

I wish I could go back to the way things were, before we had all seperated. I miss everyone.

I wish we could have never seperated. I took that time for granted, I thought everyone was going to be around and the same forever. I thought I wouldn't notice the change, but my god have we changed.


Dammit... God dammit.

Burning Bridges

I'm leaving in ten days to Chicago. I've never met Lionel before, and we don't know each other personally, the conversations we had were always only occult-related because we were both very obsessed a couple years ago. I haven't spoken to him in years, and yes, I just out of the blue asked him if I can spend a week over at his house. I've never spoken to him over the phone, so we are very much strangers, but I'm taking the risk of spending a week over his place because I need to get out. I need some place new, I need a rush, and some adventures. I haven't done anything exciting that has got my blood pumping for over four years.

I like that he is spontaneous, which is what I need right now.

I have to get through this, I want to get through this. I've been avoiding people because I don't want to deal with them. They hardly ever listen and they are so full of themselves. But I've destroyed my social skills from avoiding to meet new people. I want to fix it. I have to fix it.

Right now, I keep questioning if the trip would even be worth it. I know that's a horrible thing to think about. I've already bought the tickets so I can't talk myself out of it... But I can always get a refund. Which I don't want to do because that just defeats the purpose of buying the tickets in the first place. Asking myself if it would be worth it would be expecting something out of nothing!

I have to burn bridges, no turning back now.

San Jose, CA

to Emeryville, CA

Sunday, October 16

4:10AM

Emeryville, CA

to Chicago, IL

Tuesday, October 18

2:50PM

Chicago, IL

to Emeryville, CA

Tuesday, October 25

2:00PM

Emeryville, CA

to San Jose, CA

Thursday, October 27

6:45PM

Flashback

When I was nine months old, I found out things die. I was in Portland, and my mother had got me a bird, it was alive for two days and died in the morning of the third. Then I always fantasied about dying. I would do it for hours a day. It made me sad and I cried sometimes when I made it bad enough, but it felt good. I spent my entire day over at my grandmother's house playing by myself from the moment my dad dropped me off at 6:45AM so he could go to work, to when my mother picked me up at 6 or 7 in the evening. The days were repetitive and it never bothered me because even though it was repetitive, it was different every time. My dad would drop me off (sometimes I pretend to be asleep so I don't have to get up and he would pick me up from my bed, put me in his car, pick me up again and put me on the couch in the living room of my grandmother's house), and I would spend the morning watching Mr. Rogers and Barney. When that was over (I didn't like the other shows that came after that) I went to go play with my toys for a couple hours. After I'm done with that I go outside and bother the gophers, swing on the swings, observe plants and animals, run around by myself, swing on the swings again daydreaming (I would do this for hours, sometimes the whole day). My grandma would tell me when Bobby's World was on and after that would be Power Rangers at one in the afternoon. My grandmother taught me nifty stuff. Like making shapes and other weird designs with a rubber band, she would teach me the time and numbers, but I never fully understood, I had just recognized the shapes. 1 and 2 were easy to remember. I had always imagined 1 to be new at things, adventurous and always willing and wanting to learn and explore. 2 would be friendly and is a teacher. 3 is a little mean, like my uncle bill, he's nice half the time and the other half of the time he's mean. 5 would be really mean to the lesser numbers. 6 would be even meaner but usually never bother 3, 2 and 1, but 6 would yell a lot at 4. 7 is even meaner than six but 6 is after is 7 and 5 would try to defend 6. 8 reminded me of my cousin, he's round, spoiled, his parents buy him a lot of stuff and he's a cry baby. 9 reminded me of my cousin's mother, she didn't like me because I was better than her son. Also these numbers would have a scent, color and taste to them... It's just not that apparent now.

A Pulse.

I think it's been four years... And nothing exciting has happened since Jobcorp. I've lost it a couple days ago and started checking flights to fly over to Austin, Texas where Danial is. The whole week's trip would have cost me a grand (meaning that I survive on one meal a day, which might possibly be a burger and fries). A thousand is all I have saved up. But I needed to get out. I needed to get away from this place. I had contacted Lionel and checked flights to Chicago, Illinois and it was less than half the price it took to get to Austin. He hasn't replied yet, and it's been two days since I've sent the message. Good thing, I guess. I would have done it and  that would have been too reckless of me, it took me forever to save up that much. So I'll just get a car and won't have to worry about the people in the cockpit accidentally/purposely killing us all for whatever reason.

I wanted to get out. I wanted to go to a high energy musical screaming concert and let loose. Hit anyone who seems to enjoy bruises and bloody noses, get hit myself. Scream. Run wildly through a forest, even if it means all by myself. I wanted some excitement in my life so bad I had even thought about talking to the Slipknot maggots at my sister's high school, I'm pretty sure I would be really annoyed at them for being what I already know that they will most likely be narrow-minded, but I think they'll pump up something in my life, even if it's just a little. Yeah... I'll do that... We'll see how it goes. At least then I'll have someone who will go to a headbanging concert with me... I wish Junior didn't have to act like a Mister-Cool-Silent-Man... And I wish he was a better liar.

The fact that I think this is really erotic must mean there's something really wrong with me.

Zombified and Empty

I don't know how long it's been since I've gotten sick.

It started out with just a swelling in my throat, next day it got worse, the day after there was a lot of pressure in my head, so much it was hard to think clearly, I also had a fever. Today my nose is running and getting stuffed at the same time, pressure in my head was immense, as if my skull shrunk and was threatening to get smaller and crush my brain. My head spun. I took some Theraflu for Sinus and Cold, it relieved the pressure.

It's hard to feel any emotion. At this point in time, I'm trying to motivate and inspire myself to write, because I really want to write! But I am empty.

I feel zombified. Something eager me to do some form of exercise. So I did. I did a combination of push-ups, downward dogs, and cobras. That cleared up my sinuses in about twenty seconds. I kept at it and did jumping jacks and football lunges. I felt pretty good. My blood was hot and rushed beneath my skin. But I still couldn't feel enough emotion to write.

My obsession with serial killers and fleshy white masks led me to have a dream about Corey Taylor in his new mask. We were at a red brick wall and the sky was black. That's all I remember.

A Negative Breakfast

I was at Rubio's for breakfast and I ordered the same thing I had order the first time I've gone here. When the food arrived, I felt something wrong with it, like picking out an apple but even though it look like all of the other apples, this one felt like it had had a rotten journey by itself.

I ate it anyways. I was brought here, and the food was paid for and I hate to fling it or to have it taken back. I hate wasting. I grew up poor, dammit. I was also hungry. I had a little more than half of the salmon burrito and the burrito started screaming out poison like as if I had eaten an old, opened box of yogurt that has been sitting the depths of the refrigerator for years.

I couldn't finish it and I didn't want to see it again.

Later I was struck with heartburn followed by a stomach ache. Tonight, before I went to sleep. I felt a swelling in my throat. I was going to be sick. Dammit. It is now past four in the morning, I had made a tea called Throat Coat and ate a hot bowl of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup with twelve twists of black pepper (grind). I ate it hot, so it burned the way in and down. It did help. I'm just not very happy eating a can of perservaties.

A Lesson

I've learned that changing my mood and outlook would change the world and the people around me entirely.

The man who had taught my fifth week class at JobCorp told everyone: "You change your mind you change your life!" He said that to the class and he said it to every one of us, one at a time.

I've come across a man who had explained to me that changing my outlook would change the way people look at because because they could feel it. They could feel you if you're an inviting, friendly, happy person. They could feel you if you're being judgmental and negative.

I was having another staring competition with a cat I don't like very much. I didn't like her the moment I saw her as a kitten with closed eyes. I would usually always win this competition and she would then run away and hide in shame, treating me and looking at me like I am a monster which infuriates me. This time, she cut in the middle of the contest and ran over to me, meowing, if she could talk, I'm sure she had said, "Let's not do this anymore". Then suddenly, I wasn't angry with her anymore. I couldn't be angry at her. I was too shocked that this stupid whinny cat could do this to me. I smiled back at her and rubbed her head, "Damn you".

I've recently finished reading a book called, The Art of Racing in The Rain. I can't find the page for the quote, but somewhere in the beginning, it repeated this lesson to me.

Rejection.

My mother kindly refused a bag of chips I wanted at the supermarket. I accepted this rejection. My stomach twisted, my lower lip shook out of control, that familiar pain ran throughout my body and hot tears rushed out of my eyes like broken faucets. I couldn't stop it, I didn't want to cry but I couldn't stop it. I turned my head to look somewhere else so my mother couldn't see my face. I forced it to stop. It wouldn't stop. I walked over to the next isle and let it continue. A couple stopped and looked at me, questioning themselves if they should help me find my parents. The woman said they shouldn't get involved and they walked off feeling sorry for me. I saw my mother going to the check out line, I followed behind her and she hadn't noticed I was gone. The tears haven't stopped and I kept my head turned, following behind her with a blurred vision.

Ice Cream Fetish

First time getting expensive ice cream!

This is most erotic.

Thanks Tommy.

The Detachment of Parasitic Entities Experiment -Entry #1 & #2

Wednesday, March 16, 2011 Entry #1

Day of Mercury

Day one of the The Detachment of Parasitic Entities Experiment. I barely remember anything from this day. My mother's boyfriend interrupted the experiment by asking me to bring one of those packaged lemonade medicine upstairs for my mother. I did. I went upstairs, knocked and opened the door into the room. I tapped on my mother's bed and showed her the drink. She turned, took note that it was me and turned back, ignoring me. Leaving me to stand there holding the cup. I will not put up with this bullshit. I put the cup down on the table-stand and quickly left the room in utter frustration. The door slammed slightly from my rush to get out before I screamed. I stormed downstairs and grabbed my things to bring upstairs. I am out of here.

I'm moving in with Tommy for a couple months in return for cleaning, cooking and being assistant photographer.

I don't know how to explain to other people my decision. It sounds impulsive, maybe it was, but I needed to get out and I needed a job.

The official job I'm looking to get is down the street, a fifteen minute drive. I'm really looking forward to working at this place. No, it's not a strip club. But I am also not going say what it is until I get the job, for fear that saying it will jinx me out of this dream job.

I cried in the car. I felt like I was going away forever. I felt like forgetting this plan and continue my mindless lap-toping and let myself rot away inside each passing hour. I stopped crying when I got to his place. I cried some more when I laid down at night to go to sleep. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

Thursday, March 17, 2011 Entry #2

Day of Jupiter

I woke up early. 7AM. Usually I am not awake until 10AM or later. I had a weird dream. It was quiet. No one was here. I felt lost and alone. It was so cold that I desperately searched the house for a heater for what seemed like days. It was hidden near the door behind some large heavy wooden planks.

I sat staring into the nothingness. I am finally off the laptop from going at it for over a month.Wake, laptop, a meal, sleep, repeat. These soulless, unemotional tasks are killing me. Memory is rotting, emotionless, hostility, short temper, back pain and a ruin posture.

The emptiness I had used to fill with studying the occult history, meditations, studying of mathematics full time is gone. I spend my time thinking about people and how much I've taken them for granted.

I meditated on cleansing my chakras, body, and aura.

I had work with a photographer today at 11AM to 3PM. He was using one of the first cameras made, the film was tintypes and daguerreotypes. Every picture took five to twenty-eight seconds depending on the lighting and the film used. He let me watch him process the film plates. It started out with something that looks like a mirror, he would then put a red-coppery powder on it and polish it with a machine, then he would move it over to another station where he would polish it with something else. Then he would go over into the dark room and set the iodine into the plate, this took several minutes. After he got the color he wanted he placed it a case and went out to take a photo. After, he would come back and put it in a machine he has made. Then he would set the plate into a dish and pour a yellow chemical onto it, let it sit for a minute or two, then take it out and put it on a stand where he would pour another chemical of some sort onto the plate and he would light the bottom of the plate so the silver metal would dig into the plate. He would then pour water on it when he was done and quickly blow dry it. I spent three hours observing him.

Eric was in his early twenties, with short raven black hair, scruffy facial hair, uneven set eyes a little too close together and clothes with holes, chemical and paint marks on them, they must be at least a decade old. He also has one silver loop earring in each ear. His zodiac is an Aries but he looks more like a Scorpio.

I've been contemplating on whether or not to type this down, I guess I will since it's really off of what I usually think. I must be getting some side effects from the meditations.

I found myself staring intently at Eric from the side in the darkness of the room. I had the sudden urge to put my face in his hair and breathe in his muskiness. I wanted to kiss him hard and messy and I wanted him to push his groin into me.

I blinked and focused on work.

Strawberries and Honey -Entry #5-

Day of Sun

Tommy gave me a pinhole camera yesterday. I had never understood how it worked until then. I spent an hour trying to figure out how to assemble the damn thing. I've done three watercolor paintings today. Nothing I am proud of so I will say no more of it. I had another weird dream today, more A LOT more vivid than yesterday's dream, recall is getting better.

It was sometime passed 3PM and I was getting really hungry. I walked downstairs and out into the wet coldness of the city. The walk alone was frightening, paranoia kicked in as the passer-byers in the cars stared, after two blocks I've entered the mini alley-restaurant. Five dollars and fifty cents worth of meal but for me, it's worth two meals. People were nice for the environment they were working in. The walk back wasn't lonely, I was extremely cautious of people (as usual), always scanning every suspiciousness persons for guns and weapons, or intention of attack, but it was an enlightening walk.

The time I am spending alone is finally giving my mind, body and soul some peace. This is day number five of the detachment of parasitic entities experiment.

A Moment At Tommy's -Entry #4-

Day of Saturn

Nightmares. Headaches. Fatigue. Muscle aches. Rain, lightning, arctic conditions and many, many health problems (anemia, thyroid disorder, periodic problems, arthritis, digestion problems, skin problems, headaches/blood pressure problems, paranoia and anxiety attacks). Today is the full moon, the biggest in twenty years, but the clouds have the moon covered. I've recently started meditating again; concentration is lacking, focus is a blur. After today's meditations, emotions and physical feelings has come back and is greatly appreciated. Since my meditations have begun, am able to hold conversations with little effort, even with strangers.

I'm slowly coming together again.

I am at Tommy's, drinking tea and wine-coolers, simultaneously.  

      I am worried about these earthquakes and floods. I had another weird dream last night, more vivid than   

      yesterday's dream, recall is getting a little better.

      This is day number four of The Detachment of Parasitic Entities Experiment.

The Rebirth Experiment -Pornography Entry-

I am currently undergoing a mental rebirth experiment, officially started as of Friday, Febuary 11, 2011, 12:06 PM, Day of Venus, Hour of Mars, Moon at First Quarter. If I would explain exactly what I am doing you would think it is a self-brain-washing experiment or I have snapped. No, I haven't snapped, it is truly an experiment, and I may change completely and not come back to how I was. I regret nothing.

I've offically brainwashed myself into accepting and liking pornography. I like it not as a tool, but as a movie, something artistic, though the VAST majority of it is just rubbish and was made to be used as a tool.

I was watching Hitoriga The Animation, episode one. It's about a japanese school girl who thinks she is different from other girls at school because the other girls at school brag about having sex and being molested and they were making fun of her saying that no one wants to molest her. She thinks differently, saying that she has much more pride than to do that. On the train she gets molested, rejects it but is frozen in shock and can't move, her body reacts to it, but she is still rejecting it, still frozen in shock., I can understand this shock, to many people it seems stupid and unrealistic, but I've been there.

You are wondering why I have decided to do this... I am doing this because I could not stand the thought of not standing the thought of pornography and anything that would link up to it. If I discover a logical reason for why I should or shouldn't continue to hold grunges against this, I may break from this mental retardation. I will not continue on living narrow-minded, spiteful and grunge-bearing. I am understanding how to accept things and people the way they are, no matter how horrible I or society sees them. I feel that it will help me become spiritually enlighten by facing my nightmares.

My last words...

These last few weeks consists of no meditation, no hobbies of interest, no normal job, no social life, no studies, no school, I am simply doing nothing for once in my life and for the first time I feel like a human being living in an over-crowded toxic city.

I don't like a lot of things. I don't like a lot of people. But I can love everyone and everything even if I fasinate for hours about torturing them. I know no one will believe that I have universal love because I always seem so spiteful. I don't like the physical elements of this place, so after this rant, I will continue with my eyes closed even if it means walking around in public with eyes closed. Screw what people think, I've killed off that part of my ego sometime last year so I have no shame.

For Valentine's Day, I want a box of strawberries and organic coffee.

I've been thinking of what my last words would be, and now I finally know what I want to say: "This is happiest moment of my life".

Rot.

I have to get out of here.

Spoiled Milk

Vomit. There is a vile demon in my stomach with a stink so foul that when I gasp for air my body shutters with a memory that I am still alive.

Hunger. Nothing satisfys it. It will always and forever be hungry no matter what I shove into it's large mouth. I can fill it up until it gets so full it falls over immbolie, but it will not be satified.

Heartburn. Twisting and tearing, an acid overload makes my insides reflex as if I were vomiting. It confuses my body to think that it is hungry. Heartburn. Freakin heartburn. Depression. Frustration. Vomit.

Stupid rants. Stupid thoughts. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid money. Stupid people. Stupid porn. Stupid needs. Stupid friends. Stupid weather. Stupid rotten milk. Stupid white kids.

I have not touched my studies in what feels like months (it's probably been two or three weeks). I feel completely dull. Daily dos and dids constists of looking for work, photography, time with rats, eatings, sleeping and memory retrival.

I had broken into my dad's house yesterday at around 4:50PM. I had knocked on the doors and thrown rocks at the open windows. He did not answer. There was no sound it the house. But the windows were open. I checked his old dark grey car. Spiderwebs, coffee cans that held ciggerate butts and ashes, dust, trash, and three pine scents thingys hung where the knob for the windshield wipers are at. I looked for keys to the house. I reached around and pulled at stuff without getting in. I got desperate, I stuck my head in and got stuck in thick layers of spiderwebs. I closed the door and said that I would find another way.

I continued throwing and knocking at the doors and windows. Nothing. Convinced that he had overdosed himself and is laying dead somewhere in the house. I went around the house for the uneempth time and pushed at the dirty and rusty screen of the window. It held. I probed and pulled at the sides and bottom of the screen, damaging my midnight blue painted nails and pushed it inwards. A man from the other house came out and told me no one was there. I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. He repeated himself.

"When will he be back?"

"Probably eight or nine." The mexican man in the whtie shirt told me.

"Oh..."

"He's probably at work, is his car there?" He walked around to the other side of my dad's house and I followed him.

"Yeah, it's all dusty."

"He has another one, a white one." The man told me.

"Do you talk to him?"

"Sometimes." The man peaked at the parking area. "Oh, no, he's not here."

We walked back. "He'll be back around eight or nine." He told me again. I thanked him and went back to the window.

I stuck my fingers underneath the screen frame and bent it outwards. I tossed the screen frame that was bent at a forty-five degrees and got onto the stairs railing. I stood there on the fragile wooden railing and shifted my weight over to the window. Now, I could be stuck like this, or I can push off the railing, letting my neighbors see my underwear as I roll into the house. I pushed off and rolled in.

I got up, dusting off the dust and closed the window. I sat there on the couch, alone in the dark while my vision adjusted to the darkness of the house. It stunk of ciggerates, vodka and mold. Nothing has changed. Everything is still in the same place. The only thing that was different was that there was mold everywhere, the ceiling drooping downwards, papers and trash scattered everywhere, the only light in the house that works is the kitchen light. I needed to wash my hands and I needed to use the freaking toliet.

The water is shut off. The bathroom looked like it belonged in a Rob Zombie film.

I entertained myself while waiting for my dad to come home by memorising what he had in the fridge and cabinat. I didn't look at what was on the papers.

I sat in the living room again. I heard those familiar footsteps comming down the hallway. So, it wasn't my imagination. I had always hated that hallway, whatever it or they are, had always messed with me. Whatever it was, it's weight made me feel uneasy. I was expecting mirrors to shatter and things to fly accross the room.

I turned on the computter, I opened up notepad and told him I was there, that I stilled loved him and I wished him well, I opened up paint and drew a rabbit comming out of a cake and eating a pink donut. I know it means nothing and I meant nothing by it except for him to smile a little at my ridiculous drawing. I left.

After the storm...

I've calmed a few, reaching that balance point I'm always at where I feel everything at once, all at an even rate. Before I was confused thinking that I couldn't feel anything, nope u____u everything. At this point in time, I am not preferring any color over any other color. Everyday I would see which color is more pleasing/attracts my attention more over the other. Usually it is pink. Today nothing fits and it bothers me.

Color is drained from my face leaving me grey, my hair is unruly and fragile. I have stopped taking the pills about two weeks ago. My hair is starting to fall out again. I am unhealthy and there's not much I can do about it. Anemia is untreatable. Sleeping habits, diet and mood can not be helped. I've tried. I have to stick to pills and meditation if I want to keep a head of hair.

I'm reading my left palm without a book or reference, and the life line says (according to me), that at the age 31/32 I will be struck with some disease or something very life threatening. If I'm able to avoid that then mid-forties or mid-thirties I will encounter an enemy of some sort and will have another life threatening event. If I can get passed that then I will live pretty damn long if I can avoid car accidents and large bodies of water. Guess how I read that. Guess. I look at the lines and every time I hit a mark I would have flashes and that is what I saw from it.

My right palm says in my fifties I will die and project outwards, learn a lot and then come back. Then I will have another near death experience a few years after, the death will be very painful and I will probably forget that I'm projecting and there's a chance I might die because I've been dead too long. Then I'll come back, twenty or so years later I'll have a stroke or something, I'll survive that, three-five years later I'll get some rare illness.

Alright. I understand the differences between the two palms to read. The right palm is under my control. Left palm is under control through the elements, planets, etc. I... Need to start getting healthy to avoid death by illness. ARGH.

Anyone up for their palms to be read?