I am The Scorpion Entry 5

July 27, 2008 9:50 p.m.-10:30 p.m.

I haven’t been writing in you much.

But, here’s the good news- I’m sorry.

Anyway, I had a realization.

I don’t really write anything.

I mean, I write; but nothing about my life.

Maybe because it’s the same everyday?

Basically all I do is take care of the baby.

I never leave.

But I shall try to start writing the things that happen; if only to remember them better.

I have a horrid memory, if you recall.

So…lately.

I’m going to Cruefest.

Pit Tickets.

I’m fucking…dying to go.

Getting to watch a band I love, up close, crowd pumping and screaming…

It’s like a fucking dream come true.

Trapt, Papa Roach, BuckCherry, Motley Crue, and Six A.M.

This is the one thing in life that is keeping me from being fully numb.

I feel…

Young for once.

Not jaded or empty or too experienced for my years.

I’m excited- nervous, even.

It’s refreshing.

Also, I’m reading The Heroin Diaries.

The book is…indescribable.

Amazing.

You’d have to read it or you’d never understand.

I had a random thought.

If I got Motley Crue’s signatures tattooed on my body, I know where I’d get them.

Mick Mars on my right shoulder.

Like a guardian angel I guess?

Always has your back, always behind the scenes.

Always giving you courage.

He’s such a fucking brave person- perusing his dreams even with all the pain.

Tommy Lee- Inner thigh.

Pretty sure that one is self-explanatory.

Vince Neil?

Base of my neck.

Kind of like that itch you can’t scratch.

Monkey on your back.

You kind of love to hate him.

It wouldn’t be Crue without him.

And finally, Nikki- Right under my collar bone; not really over my heart, but close.

Why?

Because, he is closest to my heart.

I relate to him.

And his book stirs things in me I had forgotten.

Emotions I thought had died.

Memories haunt the corners of my mind.

Would I ever get the tattoos?

Maybe.

Why did I think this out?

I was half asleep- so sue me.

Anything else new?

Just college.

I’m starting in a week.

Online classes.

Forensic Profiling.

Why do I like this subject?

Maybe because I can relate?

Maybe because I like to pick things apart?

Maybe because I want to understand myself?

Maybe because I just like psychos?

Doesn’t really matter why.

It’s my future, and I know I will enjoy it.

My mother has been in bitch mode lately.

Nothing new.

I’m a horrid mother.

I’m addicted to the internet.

I don’t care.

I don’t want her haunting the pages of my diary too.

Fuck that.

I am The Scorpion Entry 3

July 24, 2008 9:56 p.m.-10:10 p.m.

My brain hurts.
I think I’m getting sick.

It always happens when I get like this; when I go to the ‘Nothing Place’.
I stay up as late as I can (or am allowed) then sleep.
I sleep as long as I can; trying to get lost in my dream worlds.

I hate life.

I wish I could just…watch.

But I’m forced to live; eat, sleep, actually survive.
So, I sleep as much as I can.
I don’t do drugs or fuck and I don’t want to bleed away the numbness.
Drugs aren’t an option.
So I sleep.

Is this even making sense?
I can’t tell.
My eyes are burning like I have a fever; my brain feels sick.
I’m reading Heroin Diaries, but I don’t even know if any of it is getting through.
But, I know it is because I’m having day dreams.
Even when awake I dream.
I lose myself.

I was zoning out and I felt a sting in the crook of my elbow and this warmth flooding into me. I looked down at my arm to see what it was- only to realize that I had been dreaming.

It had felt so fucking real.

It wasn’t like the cold ice of a vaccine; no latex slide of gloves against my flesh. It was an almost comforting feel of a calloused, calming hand lightly gripping my forearm; a warm, tingling heat spreading through my veins.

What was being injected into my arm?

Who was holding the needle?

I have my suspicions, but I will leave them unsaid.
If I write them down, I fear these sick dreams will only become more vivid and my obsession with this subject will only get worse.

I’m afraid, yet I am so numb and brainsick I can’t seem to make myself care anymore.

All I can tell you is- if I had been born 20 years ago, I’d sure as shit be a fucking junkie.

(I look back and ask myself why I ‘Drugs aren’t an option’ was in bold, but I’m afraid to answer my own question)

I am The Scorpion Entry 1

Make Me Care

Slipping, slipping away
Relapse of emotions
Worlds turned to gray

I’ve never craved salvation
Or a white knight on his steed
But I’ve had a realization
Self-destruction is what I need

Rusty knight with golden eyes
Shining lance held in his hand
Fill me full of all your lies
Make me feel, make me understand

No solution, no remorse
Injection made to make me feel
And as the drug runs its course
I realize it isn’t real

Rusty knight with golden eyes
Shining lance held in his hand
Fill me full of all your lies
Make me feel, make me understand

Daydreams of solutions
I will never seek in this life
Sex and pain pollution
But too scared of needles or a knife

Rusty knight with golden eyes
Shining lance held in his hand
Fill me full of all your lies
Make me feel, make me understand

Glamorized
Stylized
Actualized
Realized

I crave these things that I know destroy
To feel, to breathe, to live
I know that drugs are not a toy
Though the only solution this world seems to give

Rusty knight with golden eyes
Shining lance held in his hand
Fill me full of all your lies
Make me feel, make me understand

Would I push the plunger in?
No one will ever know.
Do I wish I had the courage to give in?
I bet you pray the answer is no.

I wish I wasn’t scared
I wish I could make me care
I wish I was scared
I wish I could make me care

I wish I could just give in
I wish I could make me care
I wish I would feed this sin
I wish I could make me care

I wish I was someone else
I wish I could make me care
I wish I could be myself
I wish I could make me care

I wish I could feel
I wish I could make me care
I wish I wasn’t real
I wish I could make me care

I wish I could just give in
I wish I would feed this sin
I wish I wasn’t scared
I wish I could make me care

I wish I could make me care
For just a moment

July 21, 2008 4:10 p.m.- 4:32 p.m.

If Nikki Sixx can do it, why can’t I?

The Diary I mean, not the heroin.

We are both in a very bad place; wasting away before out very eyes and not knowing how to fix it. His solution was to get clean. What is my solution; start doing drugs?

I wouldn’t say this is a depression.

That would be so much simpler.

No, this is quiet the opposite. I can’t seem to feel anything. Yes, rare glimpses of emotion; but few and far between. Most of it is acting; ghosting through life and praying.

Praying for what?

Praying to who?

Doesn’t matter.

I just pray that maybe…I will start feeling?
Or maybe that I can teach myself to care?
I don’t even know what I pray for, all I know is that I hurt inside. In a vague sort of way.

I ache.

I ache for these emotions I can’t seem to find.

It feels like my life is some hideous play. There are a few reoccurring characters, but I am the star.

But I don’t have a script.

Everyone else has one and they all expect me to play the part that was written for me, but I have no clue what that part is.

So I stumble and try to follow what they do, but I always end up failing
So I go silent, which is apparently worse.

But I am sick of falling and failing.

I just want…

I don’t know what I want anymore.

All I know is that I am not happy.
I’m not happy with who I am or how my life is.

I will never regret having a child, but I hate that she has to be raised by me.
I am by no means a bad mother.
I know this.
But I am not…what I want for her.
I don’t want her to end up like me.
The girl that wishes she was stupid enough to do drugs to feel something other than emptiness.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am not glamorizing drugs.

I want the bad effects as well.

The Fear, the Paranoia, the Pain; anything that can get through this shell.

I crave destruction.

I crave self-destruction.

I want to remake myself.

Only when you have reached the lowest pointing your life can you truly see yourself and fix your problems.

I wish…I had run away on my own.
Killed the girl I was completely.

I don’t want her inside me; crying all the time.
I want to beat her into submission.
I hate the weak little shit I used to be, and the scared girl I am now.

I want to be…fearless and reckless.

I wish I just…wasn’t me.

I don’t want to be me.

I want to throw it all away; everything.

Leave this all behind.

But I have responsibilities.

Baby is crying. I have to go. Like I said…

RESPONSIBILITIES