tired

Can I just

Can I do anything without having to fight for it? Can one thing in my life not be a fucking struggle? Can't I just... do something productive? Just one easy, simple thing. Please.

I was planning on doing some errands and shit today but now all the energy's just been sucked right out of me. It's not enough for me to just struggle and get shit over with, there always has to be something that has to drag it out, make me wait, make me stress. There always has to be little things that make it impossible to sleep, to eat, to relax.

And you'd think I'd get used to it and become a better fighter because of it, but that's never the way it works. Instead I've become the kind of person who just sits there and never does anything, who procrastinates everything and never puts out effort unless I absolutely need to, because I know that if I do, the second I become enthusiastic or proactive about anything I'll have a million fucking obstacles to overcome.

I just get so tired.

And I can't sleep.

I'm tired all the time.

all nighter

I've been awake since about 1PM yesterday afternoon. The last week or so I went from getting up at around 10 or 11 every day (my preferred wake up time) to getting up at 1 or 2, and being unable to fall asleep until 4 or 5 AM. I tried setting my alarm to wake up earlier but I ended up falling back asleep immediately after I turned it off.

I spend most of the day slogging around and forcing myself to do simple tasks, if I do anything at all. I also spend most of the day hating myself. And of course the whole hating yourself thing just makes you more paralyzed and unable to do stuff. Sometimes I get a rush of energy around 10 PM, and sometimes I can make that last until about 3 or 4. It's good because at the beginning of that time I can usually write or draw something good, but bad because after a while I know I should go to bed but I lay in bed and continue thinking of stuff I should be writing down, and then I don't and I forget about it. And I don't sleep.

Yesterday was bad. I usually talk to my parents on Sundays and I turned off my phone. I just didn't feel like talking to anyone. They've already sent me some worried text messages that I haven't answered yet - they're both at work so I'll wait until they're home to tell them I'm still alive.

Just tired.

I don't know why I thought an all nighter would help, but I always do whenever my sleep schedule gets screwed up. Making myself stay awake is easier than making myself sleep. But I don't think I've ever made it to my regular bedtime after one. But yesterday I just decided it was time for one. I think maybe I'm punishing myself.

Right now the tiredness is hiding behind my eyes, it's at the front but not taking over. It comes and goes in waves, I'll feel it really bad and think seriously about going to bed but I hold it off and goes away and I feel normal, a little. I'm running out of stuff to do. I can't draw anymore. And the internet is making me tired. Reading is always hard after an all nighter. I have stuff to do today so I'm trying to hold off until it's a decent time to do them.

It is now 10:39 AM.

Taxidermy

When I die

Put flowers inside me

Fill me with jewels

Seashells

Stuff me with beautiful things

and sew me with golden string

Then put me on display

That will be how I live forever

and remind everyone

of what they couldn't have

and what I could only achieve

in death

We'll See What Happens

When I made this blog I wanted it to be anonymous, but connected to my main blog through the account because I figured it would be easier to manage that way. But I found my name is still attached to posts, so even though there's no "About Me" section to the side and this blog isn't linked to any of my others, it's still obviously the writings of Leah Powell, amateur blogger, webcomicker, and gigantic idiot.

Yesterday I was talking with someone and he told me I shouldn't use my real name for certain internet things, and I told him I didn't care much because it's easy to figure out who I am when I write about myself, or if there's pictures of me, and once you do that its easy to find my other blogs and the webcomic and whatnot. I jokingly told him I was "all over the internet." But then it got me thinking about this blog and why I made it.

I kind of want this blog to be for all the stuff I'm not comfortable posting anywhere else - I've been posting poetry on the webcomic tumblr for a while and on the one hand it's been good because people like it, it gets a few notes, but on the other hand it feels wrong to have the comic and then as soon as it goes on hiatus there's like five horrible depressing poetry posts.

So I made this and put the poetry here and said this place as open season, and if I wrote something and didn't like it I could delete it. I want this place to be open. But I know I'll over think stuff before I post it.

I'm envious of people who can write journals or keep diaries. I have notebooks I use for writing down random thoughts but they're always thoughts relating to fiction, nothing personal. But every time I do write something personal it feels great. Writing has always been my way of getting stuff off my chest, but I've always used fiction as a way to hide it, to cover it in fantasy so no one gets hurt, especially not me.

Just now, I wrote a whole paragraph but I deleted it.

So I guess we'll see what happens.

Medicine Jar

A bottle of headache pills

A box of nausea pills

A bottle of pills for stomach cramps

A bottle of pills for diarrhea

A packet of cough drops

A packet of throat drops

Four pills of 5htp, (I keep the full bottle in the kitchen)

Bandaids

Condoms

A little bit of marijuana, (I don’t know how much exactly)

Seven tabs of acid

A bunch of little unmarked pills I found, (I don’t know what they are, I don’t know why I keep them because I’m afraid to eat them)

A dead monarch butterfly

Between the Walls

i want to live between the walls

and scratch

and scrape

and tap

and for once

be what keeps someone else up at night

Hydra

what a burden to bear

every time you heal

there is more of you to wound

Witches

i wanted to be a witch

i wanted to hex people

i wanted to blight their crops

i wanted to curse their children

i wanted to build a rickety fence of human bones around my house

i wanted to give people a reason
to burn me at the stake

but when i got to walpurgisnacht

everyone was hugging and holding hands

and telling me to love myself

and all the demons
were still inside