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The purpose of my iPod is to drown out the background noise of everyday life with good quality music. But what happens when life is silent, and the only sounds being made are in my head? That is the kind of noise no amount of beautiful guitar solos or melodious tunes will drown out. "Fight fire with fire", they say, right? If so, the casualties of this battle are only my restfulness and peace of mind. Only morning will tell of the victor...
My mental state may be in slight disarray, but at least I can still type a good-sounding update, eh? At least I thought it was good.
I can't sleep. I have practice in 5 hours. I'm screwed. This whole ordeal has really ******** with my head. It's such a simple task: choose one or the other! Alas, anyone who knows me can tell you of my indecisiveness. Or maybe they can't, I don't really know. What I do know is that I am agonizing and tormenting myself over one choice: just one. We really know that it's not just one choice, though. This one "measly choice" will result in a chain reaction, which will then result in the death of myself (at least partially) and the things I have created. Sure, giving up one will certainly save me more than giving up the other, but loss is still loss, and no amount of reassurance can make up for that. So what do I do? It's simple, really, I fry my conscience until someone gives in, whether it be my torturer or...well my other torturer. Unfortunately, it seems like the latter is the weaker of the two.

Stupid Gaia....This damned text box isn't working. It's caused the erasal (is that even a word?) of a good 3 sentences! Basically what I'm saying is that one cannot know of their own sanity. My requests aren't too irrational: give me what I want please, or I'll implode. Now, I'd rather not self-destruct, but it's beginning to look like I don't have a choice. Now, surely, this rant doesn't make me crazy, does it? Im just a girl who's ******** pissed off and can't seem to clear her mind. I'm not sure if writing these entries is helping or feeding my "psychosis". I'd like to think they're helping, but what the hell do I know? I think what I know is s**t, or what I don't know is s**t. It doesn't matter, the end result is s**t and my own unrest.

Why do I have this delusion that writing this will somehow get someone's attention? People don't care about my complaints, and I think I know that--

I've lost my train of thought. Thank you, Till. Once again, your music has entranced me. Maybe now I can get some sleep...4 hours is better than nothing.

Liebe Liese, lass die Gänse
Ich will von deiner Haut probieren
Vom Blute rostig, ist die Sense
Bist du freundlich nicht zu mir