repress, suppress, digress, undo success.

where do i go from here?

my blogs are apparently too dark...
my innermost thoughts are so tainted and dark that they're hard to take.

want some truth?

i'm drunk as fuck and want y'all to leave.


good night.

seppuku

There's a steady low hum that's barely audible while I go about my day to day life. When my day is uneventful, I can barely hear it. Sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, my head is almost silent. It's when I enter the outside world that the hum increases to a dull steady bassline, walking down the darkened snowy streets, the low frequency starts to mimic the beat of my heart. A pulsing, throbbing note so low it almost blends in with the sounds of traffic. Orange streetlamps reflect the snow back up to my eyes. My shadow retaliates by eating up every sparkle in my path with each step. Head down, hands in pocket. The beat starts pulsing in my diaphragm just below my lungs, in between my last rib and moves further up. I try to swallow it, it doesn't like that. It wants to take over. My heart starts beating in 6/8, I steady my pace and steady myself against the rush that is threatening to melt my spine. I feel the uncontrollable urge to sing at the top of my lungs, throaty and low. I can't help but walk faster as I start seeing floating gray circles in my peripheral vision, they're fighting for a place in the darkness that's closing in. Head still down I look up as a bus roars by, inches from my face; illuminated from within by fluorescent tubes and passengers aghast. The bassline creeps into the back of my throat and almost chokes me. It drowned out every outside noise. It almost drowned me.

I hate death.

i hate the repurcussions and the ramifications it carries for those on the outer circle.
I hate the fact that it makes others reflect upon their own shortcomings and in turn makes them place the blame on another's demise inwardly.
but why?
sometimes it's necessary.
sometimes it's not a question of what's right or wrong for the world, it's a question of what's right or wrong for the person making the decision regarding their action to take life into their own hands.

i have no control.
i have no self control.
i have no control over the worlds' state of affairs.
i have no control over those who tried to control me.

Am i desperate?
why do i always come back to you?

i can't breathe.

that sounds so clutchy and myspace-y and like a total overreaction to life.
but here i am...

choking on tears and pent-up resent regret hatred
why the fuck is this on blogger?
why do i post this shit on the internet?
no one cares.
no one wants to save someone else when they can barely sustain themselves...
that is
except for me


am i an anomaly?

do i hold myself in any higher regard because i'd rather put my friends first?

i don't.

i can't do this anymore. this is not a suicide note. this is not a death wish.
just please, don't ask me to stick around because my absence to you would be unbearable.

if you loved me at all, just let me go. let your selfishness go.

this is what's best for me.

i need to go.

(love)lips.hips.tits.ribs.(hate)

in the beginning.



There was a girl.


She loved food. but it made her sad when it made her bigger.






She lost lots of weight and all the people in the land cheered for her.




She never told anyone how much she hated it when people only cared about what was on the outside.













She tried on many masks in an attempt to find one that fit.



None of them ever did.




She never wanted pity or sympathy or help. She stopped caring about anything beyond the next day of consciousness.
The trapper of souls became the trapped.
Life got tiring. Boring. Repetitivemonotonousdeaddeaddead.
What's the point anymore?


I'm fucking sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I'm sick of lying. I'm sick of crying. The only time i ever feel happy and whole anymore is when i'm saving someone else's soul. Whenever the favor is being returned, i recoil and run away...
HI MY NAME'S YURI AND I'M OKAY AND I DON'T NEED ANYONE (especiallynotyou) TO SAVE ME, I'MNOT BROKEN AND I DON'T NEED TO BE FIXED I'MNOTLOST
and i certainly don't need to be found.
i feel like the end of days is closer than i think and it's not self induced.
I've just reached a point where the desire to repair the damage is so far removed from my list of priorities it seems that i've resigned myself to reaching the end of the road once i've hit this metaphorical brick wall.
I don't want help.
i don't want to cause grief or worry.
i don't want anyone whom i love dearly to read this and think that it's a poorly veiled attempt at a cry for help.
I'm merely voicing the truth;


I

JUST

DON'T

CARE

ANYMORE.

i wanna save the world. i wanna help my friends find their self-fulfillment.
i wanna eat a bowl of wasabi mashed potatoes and not hate myself for it, but if that's not possible, then i'd like to at least know that i saved someone else.

who reads this shit anyway?

i'm out.

-Y-

let's just never wake up. deal? deal.

"I would have given my first and last breaths to have spent the first minutes of the decade with my parents despite our turbulent relationship. I love them more than I really should, given some of the things they've put me through. But then again, i think they love me more than they really should as well, considering the small hells i've put them through time and time again."
-Yuri Kimura, 2010

My first and last breaths of the decade and decade to come are going to be taken with these two humans tonight, and i wish more than anything that they weren't.
what the FUCK does this mean?
I was up all fucking night last year working and self loathing, in a dirty fucking motel room; alone. I was covered in booze and smoke and party and regret. I woke up wishing i could've been with my parents and eating soba noodles...now i wish to fall asleep, magically drift into the sleep of a million years like some fairy tale princess..

God fucking damn this blog is pointless.
I don't even care who reads this shit anymore. I don't care if it's loved or hated, i don't care if people develop opinions on my character soley based on the verbal vomit that i pour out on this page, what the hell. why not?

i've realized that it takes a somewhat selfish and self deprecatory person to write a blog. A blog doesn't make me famous. A blog doesn't recognize the fact that i've been through hell and not nearly close to coming back; it doesn't validate me. A blog doesn't justify even a fraction of the shit that i choose to write about. A blog doesn't earn me the right to be a self righteous, smarmy little girl.
For some it might.
For me, it doesn't.
I wonder if my words will ever be validated. There are amazing people who believe in me enough to want to publish my words. I'm a scared son of a bitch and keep putting off getting around to and submitting a final edit. Self-sabotage?
probably.
i need a key to unlock my wods, a key to take my emotions and turn them into something tangible; words on paper, words in print, words on a screen...
that key is ultimately something that makes me FEEL something strong enough to feel the urge to capture the moment, to make me reach for a pen and paper or jump on my phone or the nearest available computer and turn my speeding thoughts into a written form that someone else might be able to

maybe it's optimists vs pessimists, not masochists vs sadists?

Sunday Morning demolition guy's joint gift of appreciation. i DO love money and i DO love salt and pepper. They know me well.

Shelley <3

Ron's Gift..

Ron with garden salad, grk dressing and g.toast.

Janice and Cooki

My last post was something else...it was the verbalization of all the dark things that i realize drive us to destroy, and it ended unlike anything else i've ever written. My endings are usually blithe, sarcasm/dark-humour infused one-liners, meant to take the bitter edge off of the rest of my words. Apparently it's what makes my writing style so readable; i'll touch upon some dark, insightful shit then i'll joke about it and make the reader laugh.

I didn't laugh at my last post.

Then i got to thinking, am i dwelling on the negative because it feels good to have something to excuse my destructive behaviors on? Am i constantly surrounded by positivity, and only seeing it when it suits my best interests? Do i blame the negativity for all of the shit in my life because it's so much easier than realizing that i am actually just selfish for having secret mini death wishes? Am i refusing to seek help because i JUST.DON'T. WANNA?

arghhhghghgggggg.

So i was thinking back to my shift yesterday at the restaurant; it's been described as a restaurant that is in a "black hole of a junkie, whorehouse, filthy piece of shit excuse for a place to go work at".

This is true. It is what it is. But it's also a place where the inner beauty of people is so much more apparent when it's surrounded by so much darkness.

I have my regulars. I have a good memory. I like making people happy. So, i know that when Biker Dave comes in he's gonna have coffee in a to-go cup with 2 creamers and 2 sugar twin, with an extra-large (i break out the biggest bowl we have) of the soup of the day with 5 packs of crackers.

When Janice comes in every morning (minus Tuesdays) she has a glass of cold water, no ice, and the 2 Egg Sunshine breakfast. 2 eggs scrambled, hashbrowns without seasoning, crisp bacon (not burnt) and cucumber slices and grapes instead of toast. Her boyfriend of 7 years just gave her a promise ring. She loves to read.

Jim comes in every day without fail, on Saturdays he meets his brother (who looks like Paul Newman) and gets the 2 Egg Sunshine breakfast, with his eggs poached medium, brown toast buttered to the edges, tomato slices and grapefruit instead of meat. And one orange marmalade, because he makes an open faced egg sandwich with one slice, and eats the other with the marmalade. Coffee black.

Brenda is part of the Osborne Village Biz. She comes in every morning and sometimes for lunch. When it's really cold out she gets a small bowl of oatmeal in a big bowl so that she can put in lots of warmed up 2% and an order of dry rye with peanut butter and honey.

When it's not killer cold out she'll get a fried onion and cheddar omelet with grilled tomato slices instead of hashbrowns, buttered rye.

Al comes in every day. EVERY DAY, he's a mechanical engineer (like my dad) and specializes in air; cooling, heating, air filtration etc. He has an office/house on Gertrude a few blocks away but lives outside of the city. Al is 76.

Al is one of my best friends.

He's so smart, so fucking smart...he's old and wise and we have a relationship based completely on trust and respect and have nothing to gain from each other except for the insight of someone who's completely opposite on the outside, yet ultimately the exact same on the inside.

I know so much about his past; his childhood, his schooling, his upbringing, his opinions on religion and spirituality, his fascination with human social interaction, we share with each other reviews on music, theatre, symphonies, interpretations of biblical passages (that is for another entry entirely).

But i've come to realize that in this deep pit of despair, this black hole of an establishment, there is so much beauty to be found. There are people who come faithfully every day, not only for the cheap food and close proximity, but for the conversation with me and exchange of daily experiences. I have come to rely and depend on my regulars to keep my routine what it is; routine. I have established bonds with people who outside of the restaurant, i would never have had the chance to get to know. The way i look, the way i do my hair or makeup or dress, it has little to no relevance to someone like Al. He looks at me and my stupid new tattoos and laughs as he says, "Well, you only live once, right?", or on the flipside, "Why would you ruin your body like that?" (i'm assuming it's his engrained old-school mentality on tattoos that makes him think like that.) It's never a matter of proving my punk-rockness to someone, it's never a matter of destroying my body to gain attention, because these people couldn't care less. They take notice of when i lose weight and invite me to sit down and take a break, eat lunch with them. They notice when i'm not my usual cheery self and ask me how my day is going with a genuine concern. I do the same for them.

Ron has worked at the front desk for 20 years. Chances are, if you've been to a show at the Zoo in the past 2 decades, you've met him. He is cranky. He is jaded. He is worn and old and so accepting of human scum that he'll treat you the same whether you're a junkie, prostitute, medical student or police officer. He doesn't smile. He doesn't care how you are today. He gets his job done, he rents out rooms, he sells cigarettes and lighters, and he calls security when someone shows up too drunk to fight or call their own cab.

He works 11pm-7am and always orders a chili dog and fries to go (he lives upstairs) or a medium garden salad with garlic toast unsliced for breakfast/lunch when he gets off of shift.

Yesterday he came up to me and gave me a card and an assortment of chocolates and said, "I was going to get you something to wear but i didn't know your size".

...WHAT?

This is a man who probably hasn't shopped for a woman since he was child and shopped for his mother. This is a man who has been described by many as a "tightwad", a "Scrooge", a "total grouch."

Are you fucking serious? I felt tears well up in my eyes when i saw his smile reach his own gray eyes in appreciation/adoration for me. I know what he likes to eat, so i make sure he gets it. Simple enough, right? I think for him, it's a big deal because no one had ever made sure that he had his meal ready for him when he got off of his graveyard shift, no one ever offered him a glass of ice water when it was hot outside and there was no air conditioning inside of the hotel.

I have come to realize that there is so much beauty in the world that we don't allow ourselves to see because we're born to stereotype, and the only acceptance we have is for someone who will somehow validate us on a meaningless surface level. We'll donate to Cancer Care Manitoba because it makes us seem empathetic or people who 'fight for a cause'.

I personally think that's all bullshit, and i am so fucking grateful to the people who have opened my eyes to a world of beauty while working in an abyss of everything that is wrong in this world.

Happy New Year.

xxoo

and so this is Christmas.

lately i've felt dark and quiet inside.

i've felt like my light that burns so bright and overpowers everything dark in it's path;

i feel like it's not bright enough sometimes.

i don't know who reads this. i don't know if there are people out there who read this and who don't know what my current situation is...

here it is in a nutshell.

1. I'm a wreck these days.

2. I try hard (so.hard.) to be a good person and shine my light on others.

3. I have come to so many epiphanies and realizations and reached the 'next level' of comprehension of the human psyche merely through the day-to-day interaction and conversation with friends that i feel like i may just explode. I have a million thoughts a minute that i feel like everytime i have a relevant realization, i feel the need to blog it or somehow articulate it but it's never at an opportune time. I'll be serving a customer and feeling like shit and faking a smile, and they'll look at me and tell me that i'm the brightest part of their day. I'll be in the kitchen and prepping desserts and the cook will look at me and tell me i'm 'pretty good for a girl'. I read so much into these moments and overanalyze them, but it's heightened my awareness to the point of me realizing what it is that makes us human.

4. I had a conversation that spiralled downward into the fundamentals of what it is that

MAKES US HUMAN.

the question, "What is the meaning of life"? has gone unanswered until now.

I have realized that the meaning of life is to ultimately be the person who proves themselves to be superior to the rest of civilization. We live 'selfless' lives by helping others because we WANT TO BE PERCEIVED AS BETTER THAN THE SELFISH WHO DON'T CARE...but when it comes down to it, does that not make us selfish? We want to prove that we are helpful and caring and generous and grateful, so that we can feel better than our peers who are uncaring.

We are divided into 2 categories as a species; the ones who try to better the world around us, and the ones who take advantage of what the world can give us. The givers want to be responsible for the change, the shift of human consciousness. They want to disprove the belief that we are all born to die, and our time on this planet is irrelevant. They want to sincerely CHANGE THE WORLD and whether or not it's selfish, it's respectable. On the opposite side of the spectrum, we have the ones who know that we all have an expiration date and milk every drop of life that they can. They know that we're all gonna die and there's vulnerable people out there who will cave to their every whim and make their existence more pleasureable, usually on a material level.

The givers are the optimists. They want to change the taker's perception of life, regardless of it's on a physical, material level or a human, emotional level. They like to believe that their light can overpower the dark, they want to believe that they can change a person who's jaded and dead on the inside to someone who is more like-minded and positive. They NEED to believe that their light can overpower the dark. They need to see the darkest of the dark and try to change that with their light. They need to be challenged constantly, given new hurdles to jump and new obstacles to overcome; they need to find someone/something who is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum and shift that person's mentality to prove that they are ultimately right.

For instance.

Take a girl who is a taker.

Hey, she's fucked on every level. She hates herself, she can't deal with her emotions, she puts other people down to elevate her own self-worth, she slowly kills herself in any way she knows how because she feels that she deserves it. She goes to parties because she knows that she's pretty enough to bat her lashes and inhale your 8-ball with a giggle and a smirk and there's never a question of paying for anyfuckingthing tonight.

She'll charm you with a cheap smile and make you feel important. To you, that's somehow enough. She thinks you're a fucking idiot.

Night after night she does this. Night after night she feels deader, more vacant, more hollow...like she's only good for one thing.

Smile. Take a pretty picture. Dress like a slut. Drink all the punch.

At the end of the night, there is nothing. NOTHING.

All along, she's known that she is a good person. All along, she has known that she has her intellect and her charm and her fascination for the world around her to keep her fueled, she doesn't need the worthless compliments or the many vices she has come to depend on to keep her alive.

She realizes that life is about living, not trying to kill. It's not about tamping down emotions with chemicals, it's not about seeing the dark side of people to try to feel empowered, it's not about self medicating because she has somehow deserved this feeling of inadequacy.

Her life becomes about trying to show others that living is possible without trying to make something else die. Her life becomes about overcompensating for the fact that she was at one point; a selfish, naive, ungrateful hollow excuse for a human life.

Her highs come from making SOMEONE ELSE smile, when they feel undeserving of it.

Her highs come from elevating someone else's self-worth, because she KNOWS how it feels to have that epiphany herself, how validating it is for someone to point out every positive aspect of her and know that it's not just hollow vacant words.

Her highs come from knowing deep down, that she has always been deserving of kindness and respect but pushed it away because someone else was always trying to push HER down to elevate THEMSELVES.

I have known the dark side. I have tried hard, so bloody fucking hard to make every sad person i know smile because i know that i've BEEN THEM and it's POSSIBLE for them to smile and be the person who i am today.

I know that i am in the place, the situation that i'm in today because i tried to prove myself to be a good person to someone who will ultimately never comprehend the enormity of what i'm trying to offer. Some things will never be changed. Some values are set in stone, and that's commendable. I want to make the world a better place, yet ultimately, i have a self-destructive side and that is my choice to make whether it's via alcohol, self-hate, or unattainable goals.

Life lesson learned:

We are all born knowing that we are going to die.

From an evolutionary standpoint, we want to be the most successful, the most evolved entity that we can when we die, so that we set the precedent for the next generation and have our legacy live when we cease to exist.

We ultimately elevate ourselves through a series of pushing others down so that we can seem superior. We need to feel better than the next so that our existence has purpose.

We dwell on feeling negatively towards ourselves so that we have something (a goal) to constantly strive for, to achieve; because if we didn't, our lives would have no purpose.

It comes down to us being divided between sadists and masochists.