Little Fire

Aydn's Secrets

 Another Worthless Day, Not Worthy of a Date

I don’t even bother with the dates anymore.  This wretched journal is all I have left of the insidious black hole that my life has become.  Absolutely meaningless.  There’s no reason for me to get up in the morning, no one to answer to, no one to be proud of me, so why try to accomplish anything?  I don’t need this free education for lifelong financial security.  It’s pointless for me to go to school anymore, but it’s what she would have wanted.  I didn’t even know what to study when I enrolled.  She’d laugh at me, and then turn her attention to support me for choosing such an incredulous topic of study.  But she’s not here to cheer me on or even to find disappointment in me.   I couldn’t find interest in anything, I had no goals and I still don’t.   I spent my mother’s legacy, a 200 thousand dollar scholarship, on metaphysical studies, including telekinesis, demonology, precognition and psycho kinesis, among many other things.    She’d kill me for wasting my talents.  She wanted me to be the artist she always saw in me.  My passion died with my biggest fan.  I’ve been reduced to doodling.  I have no one to paint for and nothing in life inspires me to do so.  I don’t want to live in the world of the living.  My studies are as close as I can get to ever having a relationship with her again.  The fragmented hope that I may be able to hear her voice once again resounds in my heart.  Good night again, lonely world. 

Tuesday, November 15th

Yeah, yeah, yeah…with the dates again…I figure that if I ever care, in my old age (ugh OLD) I may want to follow my dreadful existence with a sense of chronology.  I have to know when I finally went off the deep end.  Quite frankly, I don’t imagine myself knowing when it was happening.  I am so lost, with nowhere to go, no one to find me.  I tend to realize the depth of my alienation when the holidays approach…this season is the worst.  Now until January, I promise to sequester myself from public. Fuck the families and their turkeys.  Fuck happiness, presents, and Christmas.  Good thing I’m not a Christian…God would send me to hell.  I live enough of it here on Earth.  Every day is a reminder of how much I don’t have.  If anyone were to question me on the relativity of happiness to money….my answer would be an immediate.  Money cannot buy happiness.  I’m sure the utterly shallow would beg to disagree, all the while flaunting their Prada skirts and Jimmy Chu’s riding in their Mercedes.  Me, though, I have all this money and I spend it on nothing.  I hate the conglomerate clothing companies that employ defenseless, starving women and children in second world sweat shops.  I refuse to wear their blood, sweat, and tears.  Give me a thrift store any day.  Of course, my mother never allowed that either.  She wanted better for me than she had before I changed her life.  I’ve worn all the labels before.

Now that I’m thinking of it, I don’t care much for eating when it comes right down to it.  My mom loved to cook, she was amazing.  I will never taste another morsel that could hold a candle to my mother’s culinary arts.  She went to culinary school while pregnant with me.  She was perfect in every way.  She thought of everything once I was conceived.  Her world was created for me and I tore it all down the day she was ripped from mine.   What a selfish idiot.  How I often loathe myself.

Nov. uhh…16th….3 a.m.

Kolonopin doesn’t ward off the nightmares anymore. 

What’s the point in attempting sleep, knowing all too well how it’s gonna end?  Night after night, dawn after dawn, after sunrise.  I turn to my pages for security.  I want to let it out, but I just can’t put it into words.  I’m so unsure of myself these days.  Slumber erupts into tormenting nightmares that linger long enough to haunt me for days after my brutal awakening.  My waking hours are spent in longing, aching for comfort.  My face, periodically chapped by unyielding tears, often resembles a zombie.  I’m so lost in this world of hurt that I cannot find my way out.  I no longer have the vessel to integrate with society.  My social umbilical cord was cut long ago.  Slowly, I slip deeper into my cavern of hopelessness.  Someone please rescue me. FOUR A.M. AGAIN…….