+

Too much going on in this head;
enough to constitute nothing.

A Declaration.

My pathetically pointless narcissism is the only thing keeping me alive.
The declaration not said in the traditional sense of the 'One day I might achieve something' vanity but simply because I can't compose an articulate enough farewell note that would be at least of some true representation of myself. It'd be my last stand as a perfectionist I suppose...
My excuse to procrastinate? I'll do it soon, I promise.

Marriage is bad for FEMALES and good for MALES.

Sunday Times:

*Single men die early: they drink more and, smoke more and kill themselves more often, whereas single unmarried women live longer than their married sisters.

* The longest life expectancies are found among groups of nuns.

Naked.

Finally released on DVD for 2008. Watched the directors commentary too, the first film I've 'felt' in ages.

Pretty much sums up my silence...

Life is terrifying and we will seek not to cross uncharted territory by never saying anything that has not already been said by someone more beautiful, someone more dead.

Emma Forrest 2002.

A-sexuality.

"I was a compulsive, serial masturbator. I utilised that organ and rode it for everything it was worth. It's no longer a motivating factor for me."
- - - -
"Sex is the refuge of the mindless.
I haven't got time for sex of any kind. That's a hang-up."
- - - -

Robert Downey JR and Valerie Solanas - speaking my mind in these seemingly endless days of inarticulacy.

Time goes by so slowly...

Earlier today I came across an old journal entry from the summer of 2006. Is it a pathetic declaration to admit I nodded my head earnestly, and worst of all - in agreement with my teenage ramblings of yore?

"If you were to ask me what I've been doing for the past few days, I couldn't tell you... It's been a year of groundhog days and the only way to differentiate such days has been by staring at the kitchen calender when making yet another simple meal for one at some ungodly hour. I know for certain that nearly every day for the past few years; this life presented the same morning wake-up call - a feeling like a lead weight holding my body down, making it hard to move one foot from the bed and start with the day ahead; which I know will hold no pleasantries of any material, form or substance. Everything I do is a diversion to stop the melancholic thinking. People will tell me to see friends, go shopping, get a job - but I feel un-capable of doing all such things. My mind is elsewhere, even the most simple tasks such as working as a Londis check-out girl proved difficult. My focus was elsewhere, all thoughts on concentrated on negativity and morbid thoughts and there was nothing I could do to stop thinking of these things - no matter how much fun I was meant to be having or how much work I was meant to be doing. I feel self-indulgent talking like this - everybody being made to job and the same 'born + work = die' cycle but at least the majority there find worth/reward at the end of a task. I simply see no worth in anything. At the risk of sounding like a bored, middle class depressive - I have tried everything and nothing, NOTHING at all gives me any kind of hope for the future."

The past truths still stand, but to accompany them is the ticking clock; fast and furious it brings with it the feeling of sheer desperation. But desperation for what action? That's the worst thing... I don't know.