I've been watching Where the Wild Things Are and i think it affected me so much because it appealed to the child that i am-- not simply the story i loved and the big, fascinating-looking monsters, but the intensity of emotion and the inability to do anything with it. The sadness and fear that manifests itself in anger; the need to be close to someone but also not to let them know they're important to you; the utter panic of learning that something you clung to for stability would someday die. It made me think of when my grandma died; my mom's family was torn apart and couldn't seem to find the maturity to admit they needed one another. They just wanted their mommy.

I haven't seemed to be feeling much of anything lately. Happy, yes. Angry, fine. But things like sadness, guilt, and compassion i just can't muster, and that scares me. I can put up a front. My Little Sociopath.

I just want to take all the paint and makeup and frosting i can find and smear it on the walls, see what i can come up with, find out if the stains on the walls will show me a picture of what's wrong with me.

So am i a horrible person? From my lack of emotion and recent actions i think i can safely say yes, but the problem is that i can't seem to care. I'm hurting the people i care about and doing it remorselessly and all i can think about is an article i read in psychology in sophomore year about a little boy who stabbed frogs with a pair of scissors.

Sharp, skin, tension, twist, blood, wrench, guts, spilling, blood, gasp, blood, nothing. Nothing, nothing.

I have trouble conveying this and not sounding insensitive in it (because i am insensitive), but i just need to be alone. And at first i thought it was just from romantic relationships, but now i know that it's all relationships. For a while i just want to be alone and not be anyone's friend, daughter, sister, roommate, girlfriend, classmate. I just want to be alone. And i want to paint. And hopefully what i will see won't be nothing.