The Bell Jar

In the 12th grade i read the bell jar. And instantly felt like the book was about me.

What i liked about the bell jar is that the ending really isn't an ending. It's actually more of a concern, it provides uncertainity for the reader. There was no happily ever after, just maybe a "well one day there could be a happily ever after, if i don't go crazy again"

Unfortunately i feel as if my hand is not clasped firmly over my bell jar. And whatever i managed to keep at bay, is forcing itself out, forcing me to deal with it.

I use to love video games. I'm not even going to lie. Tomb raider, Mortal Kombat,Clocktower, Resident Evil and recently Tekken. Now i played tomb raider Clocktower, and Resident Evil, but i just watched my brother play the other two. He also got frustrated with the last board. The last guy he was suppose to beat. In all honesty the last guy isn't that hard, it's just that you've played for so long, you fear screwing up...so you screw up and lose. Anyway. The point is that i could hear my brother cursing from the other, he put it on pause, come complain to me about it, and the go back in. After he beat the game. He put it to the side and started a new game, a harder game. And the cycle would continue.

To me, thats how life is. Thats how my "funk" is. I went to bed feeling...blah....to wake up and feel...blah...to right now and feeling blah. I feel like whatever sadness i have been hiding way back in my soul, is making an apparence, it is challenging to me a duel. I am at the last board, cracking my nuckles, nervous that i will lose and have to begin all over again. At the present i am losing the battle, i'm struggling to stand, my attempts at fighting back aren't working, the bruises are piling up, my opponent seems undefeatable, i think it nows that it can beat me, so it taunts and now i have put the game on pause.

Pause.

The first knowledge of the sadness coming back, was i had a recurring dream last night. I hardly have recurring dreams. It was the dream in which i am suppose to stop an ancient curse from being finished. I have all the materials in hand, the people with me have been taken out, unconscious from the battle, or to weak to continue. They are all yelling at me, to finsih it, one of them is yelling exactly what i have to do, the monster/figure/entity is making its way close. The museum we are in, all of a sudden errupts with violent winds, the windows are blown out by the force, we are knocked aroun. And the entity is telling me to drop the stuff, while everyone else is telling me that I have to do it. That i'm the only one who can finish it. And before i can make a decision i wake up. I wake up in a "funk".

I decided to find what it is. To find the sadness and eliminate it. Sometimes i feel so sad about just being sad, that i get angry at myself. And it all consumes me into this one big calamity. Except soon, i have to press the play buttton, and i have to finish the fight. I feel i have to find the thing that makes so sad and be done with it. Or it will consume me forever, it will always make a reoccurence, and i will not find what i'm looking for. There will never be a happy ending.

So i bought a jounral today. A real one. A black "leather bond" journal, and even splurged on a pen, because i need to write it down. I need to find what the source is, come to terms with it, and be done with it. I feel( i'm using that word a lot in this entry) bad that i consume this journal with only my sadness , in writing in this journal i realized how sad i really am some days. And that there are some things that i haven't been able to find the words to write down. But last night, i wrote myself a note, i jotted down quick thoughts, anxieties and fears, and i felt like that was one step closer.

For so long, i have been concerned with just finding out who i am, trying to establish my likes and dislikes. But the real truth comes in knowing that i've always been here, the person that i so desperately want to become. That is's not about finding out who i am, it's about digging through the layers of sadness to recover who i am. Cause i think i'm a good person, i think i have a lot to offerto people and to the world. But there are deeper issues of "stuff" that is trying to tell me, it's time i dealt with it, instead of avoiding it.

So i'm kind of cheating on this journal, with my new one. I'm not going anywhere i've just got some digging to do. A digging i wish i could share right now, but i don't know what it is that makes me hurt so much, and i don't know what i will find. I use to name my journals like Anne Frank. My last one was "dear Theirry..." don't ask. I don't know what i should name it now, i'm thinking just "dear Beckett", i've got some searching to do. Of course that will happen right after my burrito.

Oh. And to kill the dramatics for now, i don't think South African is that weird. Minus the sandal, shorts things in really cold weather. He seemed comfortable in the mix to me. Next Monday i'm suppsose to be attending a showing of Lord of War, with the rest of the Amnesty crew at some dudes house. But i'm drained with just people, and Kay, and feeling uninvited(though i think we all can come) i may just pass. Or i may surprise myself, and go. Who knows what can happen in a week, i may have defeated the last board of my funk, and am ready to take on a new challenge.

I think it's about time i pressed play now. Knuckles cracked. Swagger back. Cursing insued. I'm ready to defeat the loaming figure, and move on to the next game.

Play.