Monday, March 31, 2014
X
You walked into the light, pulled up your pants to show me your calf, I touched it, then you covered that up and started telling me more silly stuff. You are a brief moment in time, lost if it's not acknowledged or appreciated. You spill your thoughts out when you show me what's in every drawer. The contents of your history, the drugs, the drinking, the pain, the bad decisions and used up moments. You keep talking, talking, against what I say, you are stuck on that train and you don't know how to see yourself how I and your other friends see you. If you start talking about it, you go on and go for a while, the same stream of consciousness every time, and I don't know if you want me to give you an answer or worry for you or just accept you. I just accept you and try to love you best. You are a sweet person when you rest your head against mine, when you offer me food, when you say "okay", when your head is resting on my chest and I can hold it and feel your hair and we can be quiet and okay. I want you to feel love and goodness, and I know that you do. I'm here for you to talk to. I will get annoyed after a bit because I am human, but keep going. You give good comforting advice when you know how. When you don't, you try and say sorry. I like you sober, or tipsy, or drunk. I don't like you high. I also don't like you when I'm high. Your whip is in my drawer and I wanna look hot like Lights, so thanks. You're funny so I don't care if you bite my arm or touch my armpit or flick my butt or give me a butterfly kiss. You're hilarious, so yeah, I'm gonna tickle you and bully you and steal your stuff and put it back and never tell you if I like subtitles and ask for your addies. I'm glad we're friends, and I'll miss you if you move away to college in the fall. But more than missing you, I'll worry about you. I worry about you sometimes, when I'm not there. I was worried when you went away during Christmas; remember when I told you to be safe and not get into too much trouble? I was serious. People like you are hard to find, so keep yourself safe and relatively healthy. We'll find out where you go soon, and life will move on always, but I hope I get to spend a bit more time with you in my life.
I Will Tell Gary
There is no God, and all of this is meaningless.
But today, there is a God. And he had a plan for him.
Talking shit, drinking wine, eating good food, laughing about other people's flaws and silly things we see on TV, sharing information about ourselves, wearing tank tops and slippers and hair down, cussing, speaking freely, all in a small, neat, artsy apartment in Cedar Park. I am so different from:
Sitting on the edge of the seat, never saying a word, taking shit from people who used to be my friends, gazing across the pavement at a circle of friends who I'm too scared to say hi to, staring down at my Triscuits and apple slices and milk boxes, picking up my ugly lunchbox when the bell rings, dragging myself to Theology or Physics or Coach L's English class, back before what happened. So different from:
Skipping lunch to spend an hour with a nun, working on homework, crunching numbers with the school freaks, avoiding eye contact in halls, too scared to heat up popcorn, sitting in silence with two new friends and a boy who does nothing but read, him asking you to prom in the hallway, and you ask him why.
I'm never the same person. My body decays every year, but my personality is growing up. As it grows, it doesn't decay like the flesh. It flourishes. It chips away at small parts that fear rejection and acceptance, it clumps on bits of humor and assurance. I feel okay more often than I did when I was young. I don't remember growing up very well because I was very anxious or okay I think. I was either so okay that it is unmemorable, or I was hurt so I forgot. It bothers me to not know which is the case. But the problem with where I was a few years ago:
You were staying in your bubble. Going to a foreign land and seeing devastation with those people doesn't help. I want you to feel uncomfortable, to crawl out of your skin and scream and cry and tear your hair to pieces in anxiety and loss of security. I want your heart to give out for a minute, your feet to free fall down a path, and I want you to stop where life takes you. You want so badly to change the world, but I fear you never will. The world, first of all, doesn't like change. The first obstacle. The second is that your idea for change is painful. I do not want to listen to your books, to your fantasies, to your arbitrary morality. Here is what I want to do: try some X, go to a rave, trip my tits off, and sleep til 5pm. Tell me why I shouldn't, once. Tell me why it's a sin, who I'm hurting. And what happens next? I do what I want. You're right at my ear to whisper sweet somethings, how I'll be forgiven. I don't want mercy. If I have done wrong by some Almighty power, then I am responsible for it. I knowingly do what I do. I drink, I smoke, I take drugs, I fool around with guys, I cuss, I do what I want, come home at 3 am, and I know that I do it. So don't tell me your God will forgive me. I never asked, and I don't want it. I am not sorry for living my life. What an odd concept to tell people, that they'll be forgiven. To tell people that they can love, but this way or that way only? I tried for 9 years to be holy. I guess I'm just a natural born sinner. I'm not cut out for religion. It doesn't bother me now that I've stepped outside the one-way window. So I want to change the world. I want to raise some people to be good, to not hurt others if they can help it, to survive and thrive and continue the lineage to make the world a nicer place. I won't make them pray, but I'll teach them how. I won't get mad if they don't want to go to church, but I'll take them to anywhere they wanna go. I'm going to change the world in this way. It's called hope, blank slates, magna carta, simple soft heads with plates unattached. But what are you going to do? Dress them up on Sundays, make them be like you? You're assuming that you are right and that you have the truth. You want to truth? First, you need to let go of that desire. Truth comes to the clean-hearted, not those with contracted hearts. Let that go, and you can get closer. Your God won't help, and your religion REALLY won't. But these are my current beliefs.
So the world is highly fucked up and constantly complicated. Every moment in a catch 22. Put your belief in predestination, and you will not think so. But now I am a part of the world, for the first time. I kept myself locked away. Now, I'm here. I love it, with its horrid gossip and ruthless bloodlust and the tears and the medicines and the mistakes. I love it more than religion, more than God, more than my past. I'm done with that. I'm free now, for the first time in my life. It is lovely.
But today, there is a God. And he had a plan for him.
Talking shit, drinking wine, eating good food, laughing about other people's flaws and silly things we see on TV, sharing information about ourselves, wearing tank tops and slippers and hair down, cussing, speaking freely, all in a small, neat, artsy apartment in Cedar Park. I am so different from:
Sitting on the edge of the seat, never saying a word, taking shit from people who used to be my friends, gazing across the pavement at a circle of friends who I'm too scared to say hi to, staring down at my Triscuits and apple slices and milk boxes, picking up my ugly lunchbox when the bell rings, dragging myself to Theology or Physics or Coach L's English class, back before what happened. So different from:
Skipping lunch to spend an hour with a nun, working on homework, crunching numbers with the school freaks, avoiding eye contact in halls, too scared to heat up popcorn, sitting in silence with two new friends and a boy who does nothing but read, him asking you to prom in the hallway, and you ask him why.
I'm never the same person. My body decays every year, but my personality is growing up. As it grows, it doesn't decay like the flesh. It flourishes. It chips away at small parts that fear rejection and acceptance, it clumps on bits of humor and assurance. I feel okay more often than I did when I was young. I don't remember growing up very well because I was very anxious or okay I think. I was either so okay that it is unmemorable, or I was hurt so I forgot. It bothers me to not know which is the case. But the problem with where I was a few years ago:
You were staying in your bubble. Going to a foreign land and seeing devastation with those people doesn't help. I want you to feel uncomfortable, to crawl out of your skin and scream and cry and tear your hair to pieces in anxiety and loss of security. I want your heart to give out for a minute, your feet to free fall down a path, and I want you to stop where life takes you. You want so badly to change the world, but I fear you never will. The world, first of all, doesn't like change. The first obstacle. The second is that your idea for change is painful. I do not want to listen to your books, to your fantasies, to your arbitrary morality. Here is what I want to do: try some X, go to a rave, trip my tits off, and sleep til 5pm. Tell me why I shouldn't, once. Tell me why it's a sin, who I'm hurting. And what happens next? I do what I want. You're right at my ear to whisper sweet somethings, how I'll be forgiven. I don't want mercy. If I have done wrong by some Almighty power, then I am responsible for it. I knowingly do what I do. I drink, I smoke, I take drugs, I fool around with guys, I cuss, I do what I want, come home at 3 am, and I know that I do it. So don't tell me your God will forgive me. I never asked, and I don't want it. I am not sorry for living my life. What an odd concept to tell people, that they'll be forgiven. To tell people that they can love, but this way or that way only? I tried for 9 years to be holy. I guess I'm just a natural born sinner. I'm not cut out for religion. It doesn't bother me now that I've stepped outside the one-way window. So I want to change the world. I want to raise some people to be good, to not hurt others if they can help it, to survive and thrive and continue the lineage to make the world a nicer place. I won't make them pray, but I'll teach them how. I won't get mad if they don't want to go to church, but I'll take them to anywhere they wanna go. I'm going to change the world in this way. It's called hope, blank slates, magna carta, simple soft heads with plates unattached. But what are you going to do? Dress them up on Sundays, make them be like you? You're assuming that you are right and that you have the truth. You want to truth? First, you need to let go of that desire. Truth comes to the clean-hearted, not those with contracted hearts. Let that go, and you can get closer. Your God won't help, and your religion REALLY won't. But these are my current beliefs.
So the world is highly fucked up and constantly complicated. Every moment in a catch 22. Put your belief in predestination, and you will not think so. But now I am a part of the world, for the first time. I kept myself locked away. Now, I'm here. I love it, with its horrid gossip and ruthless bloodlust and the tears and the medicines and the mistakes. I love it more than religion, more than God, more than my past. I'm done with that. I'm free now, for the first time in my life. It is lovely.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Friday, March 28, 2014
Caffeine, Nicotine, and Adderall
Bitter dancer, ever turning.
That combo should help me study. Just took 1/4 an Addy and drank half a Trenta cup of iced coffee. I'm feelin' it now. A bit jittery but nothing too bad. Pretty good actually. I gotta shower then study!!! I don't know if my nostril can handle the rest of the Addy. I'm an amateur. Just gotta stay focused. Don't worry. Take a shower, snort the rest, and study time! :-) Shall be fuuuuun.
That combo should help me study. Just took 1/4 an Addy and drank half a Trenta cup of iced coffee. I'm feelin' it now. A bit jittery but nothing too bad. Pretty good actually. I gotta shower then study!!! I don't know if my nostril can handle the rest of the Addy. I'm an amateur. Just gotta stay focused. Don't worry. Take a shower, snort the rest, and study time! :-) Shall be fuuuuun.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Social Skills
I had a chat last night with Ryan and I noticed how good he is with people. I mean really, everywhere we go, he seems to have friends. He said it truly took practice, and that he used to be very shy until he was about 16. So I need to make an effort. This has been an ongoing problem since I can remember, and I really want to open up to people. I generally like people. I like their stories, their opinions, their lives. I want to hear it and learn from it. The obstacle I have is myself. I am ridiculously individualistic and private. I'm extremely shy and quiet, and it takes serious effort for me to be talking in a social situation of over 3 people. I'm going to college in January and I need to start practicing my social skills. I feel so shitty because for 5 years, I drowned myself in an unhealthy friendship, so I have a lot of learning to do. But I can do it. I'm determined.
Epiphany addiction. Yes, I have that. I need to put in more hard work, more effort. It's going to be hard as hell. And work is going to be hard as hell... But you can do it.
Vague advice. One day you'll "be yourself" but it's not helpful for now. Seriously. Specifics.
Fake it til you make it. Works differently for different people.
Honestly, I tell myself a million times a day, "There's nothing wrong with you. You have the right to be yourself." Does that really help? I mean I think it does in the short term, but I have skills, just like learning an instrument, I need to hone. I'm ready to fucking try something new. Something's gotta work. I'll tell Alison this.
ARTICLE 1: ASKING QUESTIONS AND SEEMING INTERESTED AS A "KEY" TO CONVERSATION
Yeah it really doesn't work for groups. You need to know how to contribute. Even for one-on-one I feel people will start to think you're boring because you're not really sharing anything. In the past, I always let people talk and talk and now I realize it's really annoying because while I like hearing about people, I WANT TO TALK TOO!! I HAVE COOL STORIES!!! And I totally agree with the bit about people who want to monopolize a conversation and take advantage: CAT!!! And sometimes Ryan haha. He will start to go on about how people love him so much until I say, "Dude stop that's so fucking annoying." At which point he'll smile a desperate little smile and say, "I'm not trying to be, it's just the truth" at which point I'll feel like kicking him in the nuts. Ahh friends. But seriously Bianca, don't let people take advantage of your quietness. That's evil and enabling. Ew. You need to learn to interrupt when necessary. I feel like with my dad I can converse pretty well. I did well last night with Mike and Ryan, because 1) they're both chill and 2) it was a small group setting. I don't do well when I'm in a group and I'm the only new person, like when Ryan and I go to Starbucks or something. Also, I really like talking..........about myself........so I want to.
Article 2: Main concepts
Experience experience experience. You're not going to become a social butterfly by reading self help books OR this new website you found. Get out there. Do shit. (HOW?...) I see lots of opportunities: UNIVERSITY. And a new job.
Take initiative with making friends. It's not creepy. Don't be so passive (practice this....somehow).
Article 3: Factors that seems to contribute to shyness, etc.
Copying behaviors of people you were friends with that weren't good behaviors. Jenna. Jenna. Jenna. Her style works for her life and what she wants, but not at ALL for who I am. Unfortunately, I spent many years trying to hone HER skills and be like her, but this was only shooting myself in the foot: I have a choice between suffering and learning in my own way, in the life I want, or being good at interacting in a life I don't want, a life for somebody else. I choose the former.
Notes: Pushing people away. When I'm starting to get to know a group of people, I'm very happy to and want to get to know them more. I want to know a lot more. I especially take interest in a few specific people (usually a guy... ugh why) and want to know everything about them, I want to help them, etc etc. But then after a certain point I try to push them away (especially if the relationship is really intense and I feel like I'm getting too close). Getting really close to people scares me. I tell people to run, that I'm no good, that they're better off without me, that I deserve bad things and deserve to be hated. It's weird because the people who see me the most clearly tell me these thoughts are so wrong. They ask, "What have you ever done so wrong that you deserve this hatred?" All I can do at that point is cry and not know, but know that I do. Same reasons I (used to?) hit myself, because I want someone to do it for me. To hurt me, hit all the bad out of me. I have all these negative thoughts, this depression, sometimes even manic, all this absolutely insane, fucked up stuff inside of my head, and it really draws me away from other people. I need to know how to filter that and still feel connection, and I also need to know how to open up to the people I trust. I've opened up a bit to RJ, more to Ryan, a bit to Taylor, some to my dad, and that might be it.
Epiphany addiction. Yes, I have that. I need to put in more hard work, more effort. It's going to be hard as hell. And work is going to be hard as hell... But you can do it.
Vague advice. One day you'll "be yourself" but it's not helpful for now. Seriously. Specifics.
Fake it til you make it. Works differently for different people.
Honestly, I tell myself a million times a day, "There's nothing wrong with you. You have the right to be yourself." Does that really help? I mean I think it does in the short term, but I have skills, just like learning an instrument, I need to hone. I'm ready to fucking try something new. Something's gotta work. I'll tell Alison this.
ARTICLE 1: ASKING QUESTIONS AND SEEMING INTERESTED AS A "KEY" TO CONVERSATION
Yeah it really doesn't work for groups. You need to know how to contribute. Even for one-on-one I feel people will start to think you're boring because you're not really sharing anything. In the past, I always let people talk and talk and now I realize it's really annoying because while I like hearing about people, I WANT TO TALK TOO!! I HAVE COOL STORIES!!! And I totally agree with the bit about people who want to monopolize a conversation and take advantage: CAT!!! And sometimes Ryan haha. He will start to go on about how people love him so much until I say, "Dude stop that's so fucking annoying." At which point he'll smile a desperate little smile and say, "I'm not trying to be, it's just the truth" at which point I'll feel like kicking him in the nuts. Ahh friends. But seriously Bianca, don't let people take advantage of your quietness. That's evil and enabling. Ew. You need to learn to interrupt when necessary. I feel like with my dad I can converse pretty well. I did well last night with Mike and Ryan, because 1) they're both chill and 2) it was a small group setting. I don't do well when I'm in a group and I'm the only new person, like when Ryan and I go to Starbucks or something. Also, I really like talking..........about myself........so I want to.
Article 2: Main concepts
Experience experience experience. You're not going to become a social butterfly by reading self help books OR this new website you found. Get out there. Do shit. (HOW?...) I see lots of opportunities: UNIVERSITY. And a new job.
Take initiative with making friends. It's not creepy. Don't be so passive (practice this....somehow).
Article 3: Factors that seems to contribute to shyness, etc.
Copying behaviors of people you were friends with that weren't good behaviors. Jenna. Jenna. Jenna. Her style works for her life and what she wants, but not at ALL for who I am. Unfortunately, I spent many years trying to hone HER skills and be like her, but this was only shooting myself in the foot: I have a choice between suffering and learning in my own way, in the life I want, or being good at interacting in a life I don't want, a life for somebody else. I choose the former.
Notes: Pushing people away. When I'm starting to get to know a group of people, I'm very happy to and want to get to know them more. I want to know a lot more. I especially take interest in a few specific people (usually a guy... ugh why) and want to know everything about them, I want to help them, etc etc. But then after a certain point I try to push them away (especially if the relationship is really intense and I feel like I'm getting too close). Getting really close to people scares me. I tell people to run, that I'm no good, that they're better off without me, that I deserve bad things and deserve to be hated. It's weird because the people who see me the most clearly tell me these thoughts are so wrong. They ask, "What have you ever done so wrong that you deserve this hatred?" All I can do at that point is cry and not know, but know that I do. Same reasons I (used to?) hit myself, because I want someone to do it for me. To hurt me, hit all the bad out of me. I have all these negative thoughts, this depression, sometimes even manic, all this absolutely insane, fucked up stuff inside of my head, and it really draws me away from other people. I need to know how to filter that and still feel connection, and I also need to know how to open up to the people I trust. I've opened up a bit to RJ, more to Ryan, a bit to Taylor, some to my dad, and that might be it.
Oh God, Where'd You Go?
God?
God?
It's so weird to think of God now, after all that's happened.
I remember when I was a little girl, how some things just didn't make sense. Like when people would say, "Just say when." I thought that was the silliest thing ever, because to me, "when" was just a concept. I didn't understand how that could be the magic word to mark the end of someone pouring milk or something. I like child me. I was very rational, I couldn't be fooled. I mean, I had a big imagination. But I knew what was what. I try to be that way at work sometimes. Just hold myself high, as a person deserving respect and fear. I'm kidding about the fear part. Or am I? I do sometimes wish I could be that girl that makes men scared, makes them sweat and very nervous to ask on a date. Unattainable, beautiful, proud, mature, lovely. Since I am the center of my own universe (literally speaking), I document myself. I fascinate myself. It's so bad, but not really. I'm in a relationship of sorts with myself, before I can expect to love others. I'm always waiting. I need to work through hard times, but I do owe myself the goodness of being happy. I don't deserve self-harm or depression. I have worth, just as much worth as I put on the people I love, respect, and admire the most. I am equal with them. That's an interesting way to look at things. If I could see myself the way I saw other people. How am I any different? At the end of the day, of our lives, I am no better or worse.
Darling, I don't care so let me go. To mama, arms open wide, I'll go.
I deserve a good man. I deserve to laugh. I love that scene from Breaking Bad where Jesse says, "I deserve this. I deserve everything that happens to me."
My arms are cold and I don't like that one bit.
God?
It's so weird to think of God now, after all that's happened.
I remember when I was a little girl, how some things just didn't make sense. Like when people would say, "Just say when." I thought that was the silliest thing ever, because to me, "when" was just a concept. I didn't understand how that could be the magic word to mark the end of someone pouring milk or something. I like child me. I was very rational, I couldn't be fooled. I mean, I had a big imagination. But I knew what was what. I try to be that way at work sometimes. Just hold myself high, as a person deserving respect and fear. I'm kidding about the fear part. Or am I? I do sometimes wish I could be that girl that makes men scared, makes them sweat and very nervous to ask on a date. Unattainable, beautiful, proud, mature, lovely. Since I am the center of my own universe (literally speaking), I document myself. I fascinate myself. It's so bad, but not really. I'm in a relationship of sorts with myself, before I can expect to love others. I'm always waiting. I need to work through hard times, but I do owe myself the goodness of being happy. I don't deserve self-harm or depression. I have worth, just as much worth as I put on the people I love, respect, and admire the most. I am equal with them. That's an interesting way to look at things. If I could see myself the way I saw other people. How am I any different? At the end of the day, of our lives, I am no better or worse.
Darling, I don't care so let me go. To mama, arms open wide, I'll go.
I deserve a good man. I deserve to laugh. I love that scene from Breaking Bad where Jesse says, "I deserve this. I deserve everything that happens to me."
My arms are cold and I don't like that one bit.
Pitseletters
If anyone asks, you've got a prescription. You've got an addiction.
I'm tired of feeling like nobody wants me. I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself. I'm tired. I'm tired. I lay here in fucking bed, after being so successful, what happened to me? I want this, don't I? I brag about it, how awful I am. What is wrong with me? Truly, what is wrong? Tonight, I'm a little mad at you, yeah. I'm just a little mad. More than anything, I'm confused. Everything feels fuzzy and I don't know who I am. I can't get a grip on anything tonight. I don't want to sleep or move. Now I get what Dee said, but I always have. I have so much and I'm really grateful. That's the thing, right? Love yourself. But I just fucking want to talk to you without feeling like a monster. I'm mad and I want to yell at you. I do. I want to tell you how fucking confused I am and I don't want to smile or play dumb anymore. I don't want to think people are looking at me. I'm so confused beyond belief. I just don't know how to be a person at ALL. I can't feed myself, dress myself. I know that the further I go into crazy, the worse I'll get. The more drugs, the happier I'll be for a bit, then I'll remember all the stuff I forgot. Nothing wipes it away. Nothing makes me feel clean. Fuck. I just got mad at Ryan because he said he couldn't hang out. The problem is I just don't want him to be perfect. I want to just chill and do homework or whatever. I just don't want to go home. Zach said no, Zack, Shannon,... Fuck this shit. I've changed so much it's quite amazing. I'm selfish now, dumb now, lazy now. I CAN'T DECIDE WHO TO BE. I just need something. Something. It's not Ryan that I need, not love, not family. It's peace of mind. I can't fucking get that. Peace of mind. I want to draw and create and graffiti and run and be free. I can't do anything nice. Done with this. So done. So so so so so so so done. So here's the plan, once and for all.
1) Finish watching AHS.
2) Eyebrows.
3) HOMEWORK. FUCK MY LIFE DO YOUR WORK.
I'm tired of feeling like nobody wants me. I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself. I'm tired. I'm tired. I lay here in fucking bed, after being so successful, what happened to me? I want this, don't I? I brag about it, how awful I am. What is wrong with me? Truly, what is wrong? Tonight, I'm a little mad at you, yeah. I'm just a little mad. More than anything, I'm confused. Everything feels fuzzy and I don't know who I am. I can't get a grip on anything tonight. I don't want to sleep or move. Now I get what Dee said, but I always have. I have so much and I'm really grateful. That's the thing, right? Love yourself. But I just fucking want to talk to you without feeling like a monster. I'm mad and I want to yell at you. I do. I want to tell you how fucking confused I am and I don't want to smile or play dumb anymore. I don't want to think people are looking at me. I'm so confused beyond belief. I just don't know how to be a person at ALL. I can't feed myself, dress myself. I know that the further I go into crazy, the worse I'll get. The more drugs, the happier I'll be for a bit, then I'll remember all the stuff I forgot. Nothing wipes it away. Nothing makes me feel clean. Fuck. I just got mad at Ryan because he said he couldn't hang out. The problem is I just don't want him to be perfect. I want to just chill and do homework or whatever. I just don't want to go home. Zach said no, Zack, Shannon,... Fuck this shit. I've changed so much it's quite amazing. I'm selfish now, dumb now, lazy now. I CAN'T DECIDE WHO TO BE. I just need something. Something. It's not Ryan that I need, not love, not family. It's peace of mind. I can't fucking get that. Peace of mind. I want to draw and create and graffiti and run and be free. I can't do anything nice. Done with this. So done. So so so so so so so done. So here's the plan, once and for all.
1) Finish watching AHS.
2) Eyebrows.
3) HOMEWORK. FUCK MY LIFE DO YOUR WORK.
TV Lounge
It's only fear.
Alexi Murdoch. That's what I want right now. And Scala & Kolacny Brothers. Damn, teenage dirtbag. I thought I'd do a bit of journaling because I haven't in a while and I've been feeling so restless today. I make a fool of myself with my energy, don't I? But I'm feeling more settled anyways these days. I used to worry so much what people though, how I looked, sounded, acted. I still care, but only about the essence. Maybe that's why so many people around me seem imperfect; they're just living. Like Ryan would say: "Everyone's just a person doing a person thing." What he discovered tripping on acid, what I discovered growing up. I think of Becca, how she can be so rude and imperfect and it all just fits together. I don't care if I come off that way. Maybe that's why Ryan interests me so much: he tries so hard, but we all know. We will always know. He holds himself together, doesn't ask for a thing, but in small moments he shows himself. He's fun to figure out. I feel the more I talk to him, the less I feel romantic about it. Which is what I want. I don't want to have feelings for him. The feelings I did have are fading. I am, of course, attracted to him as he is quite attractive. But that's physical. I just want to share in friendship with him. I want to be there and tell him what he doesn't know but thinks he does. He's very egotistical, and he's figuring stuff out, there's nothing more I like than when he laughs. I've heard him really laugh twice, and he's heard me really laugh once. I've heard him laugh from sadness, and he's heard me laugh from sadness twice. That's all right. I sometimes feel dizzy and sick with self-hatred or sadness, and that's when I need to go to his house and sit on his couch with Moon. I feel okay in the darkness there, maybe with something to eat or drink. I don't like interaction so much when I'm sad. It hurts. I miss cuddling, because oh my how I do love touch. :-)
Today was manic. Driving around, couldn't focus, talking to everyone, feeling the need to be extraverted and not being about to focus or study. I can't be alone ever. Ever. Ever. I hate that. So much has changed since earlier days. That's why I feel so old. Every fucking year, a roller coaster. Never knowing what will happen. I can't even remember the last time I remembered last year. It's so dumb. Like those kids that move all over the country, my family just moved me all over the board. One day, Chris is playing Santana on his electric, coming home sick, breaking down doors, and the next he's gone. I'll never understand that part of my childhood. I will never understand what it did to me, if it did anything. That kills me. I can't handle that...Such a big part, just lost. I don't know how to feel about it. Some days, I'll feel like talking for hours and hours, some days not. I don't know why. It's odd the way it all happens. It's like a big weight is off my shoulders, every time I think about how fucking FAR I've come. I've come so, so, so, so far in terms of confidence and acceptance. Wow. And it all just kinda showed up one day. I really hope I have a daughter. I'll tell her all of this, probably like my mom told me, and she'll never remember any of it. Ah. Can't handle school right now. I wasn't cut out for this: focusing!!! I can't even get a fucking travel agent! I hear about a music festival and I go crazy. I think about coffee and I can't move. Ugh. Fuck my fucked up life and fucked upedness. General.
Alexi Murdoch. That's what I want right now. And Scala & Kolacny Brothers. Damn, teenage dirtbag. I thought I'd do a bit of journaling because I haven't in a while and I've been feeling so restless today. I make a fool of myself with my energy, don't I? But I'm feeling more settled anyways these days. I used to worry so much what people though, how I looked, sounded, acted. I still care, but only about the essence. Maybe that's why so many people around me seem imperfect; they're just living. Like Ryan would say: "Everyone's just a person doing a person thing." What he discovered tripping on acid, what I discovered growing up. I think of Becca, how she can be so rude and imperfect and it all just fits together. I don't care if I come off that way. Maybe that's why Ryan interests me so much: he tries so hard, but we all know. We will always know. He holds himself together, doesn't ask for a thing, but in small moments he shows himself. He's fun to figure out. I feel the more I talk to him, the less I feel romantic about it. Which is what I want. I don't want to have feelings for him. The feelings I did have are fading. I am, of course, attracted to him as he is quite attractive. But that's physical. I just want to share in friendship with him. I want to be there and tell him what he doesn't know but thinks he does. He's very egotistical, and he's figuring stuff out, there's nothing more I like than when he laughs. I've heard him really laugh twice, and he's heard me really laugh once. I've heard him laugh from sadness, and he's heard me laugh from sadness twice. That's all right. I sometimes feel dizzy and sick with self-hatred or sadness, and that's when I need to go to his house and sit on his couch with Moon. I feel okay in the darkness there, maybe with something to eat or drink. I don't like interaction so much when I'm sad. It hurts. I miss cuddling, because oh my how I do love touch. :-)
Today was manic. Driving around, couldn't focus, talking to everyone, feeling the need to be extraverted and not being about to focus or study. I can't be alone ever. Ever. Ever. I hate that. So much has changed since earlier days. That's why I feel so old. Every fucking year, a roller coaster. Never knowing what will happen. I can't even remember the last time I remembered last year. It's so dumb. Like those kids that move all over the country, my family just moved me all over the board. One day, Chris is playing Santana on his electric, coming home sick, breaking down doors, and the next he's gone. I'll never understand that part of my childhood. I will never understand what it did to me, if it did anything. That kills me. I can't handle that...Such a big part, just lost. I don't know how to feel about it. Some days, I'll feel like talking for hours and hours, some days not. I don't know why. It's odd the way it all happens. It's like a big weight is off my shoulders, every time I think about how fucking FAR I've come. I've come so, so, so, so far in terms of confidence and acceptance. Wow. And it all just kinda showed up one day. I really hope I have a daughter. I'll tell her all of this, probably like my mom told me, and she'll never remember any of it. Ah. Can't handle school right now. I wasn't cut out for this: focusing!!! I can't even get a fucking travel agent! I hear about a music festival and I go crazy. I think about coffee and I can't move. Ugh. Fuck my fucked up life and fucked upedness. General.
"At Arms Length, I Will Hold You There"
That which you judge, you become.
How monstrous. I need to start being a bit responsible again. I go through phases: oh, this time I'll be a fuck-off burnout and ignore everything. Oh, I guess now I'll be little Ms. Perfect. Okay, time to choose again. I learned when you're not being yourself, you're just discrediting your worth. I'm worth my time. It's funny because when we're little, we write in diaries and think we're so important. We think that it's enough to just document your life, rant on paper, go on and on about a singular person, you. But now I think it needs more purpose. There's people depending on me. At least, that's what I tell myself. I have a family, I have friends. Yeah, my friends are a bit of a clusterfuck from how they were a year ago. Yeah, stuff's changing. Big deal. I never liked stability. I feel okay alone today. When you feed that craving to distract yourself, it gets worse and worse. I don't want to get used to being alone, though. It's easy. It gets lonely, but it's really easy. Loving people is tough shit. I wonder why life is the way it is. Not the societal stuff. That's easy to trace. But the loving, the caring, the overall goals of it. Maybe that's societal, too. But I want it to be something more, something innate. I want to love and care and make good people laugh and be happy. It's just a desire in me. I used to think I was evil, I would become a murderer. I was always worried about being possessed by the devil. But now, I see I just need to step forward. I'm no longer writing for me, but for the person or people I will bring into the world. I keep thinking about what Dee said about having children. She said it was scary, and she didn't want to bring someone into a world she thought was corrupt. Isn't it insane just how morally obligated women are in terms of humanity? We bring forth more people. Yeah, the men help us obviously, but in the end we choose whether or not to bear the child. We know how shitty life can be, all the pain, all the people who kill themselves, all the drunks, and yet something tells us, It's worth it. I've made it this far, and I know someone else can. I will teach them, I will love them. I will make their life better than mine. I don't see children really as connected to their mothers. We are all alone, essentially. It is the sad truth of the human body. Trapped in cavities, filled with liquid and no room for anything else. We can share thoughts in the presence of oxygen. 'Leh, you'll be loved forever. You are loved before you exist here with us. I love you. I will make your life good (not easy, not simple, not boring, but good). You possibly have the craziest, worst mother on earth, but you will cry and laugh and love and hate and I will help you. That's my wish, now that it's 11:11. Goodnight.
How monstrous. I need to start being a bit responsible again. I go through phases: oh, this time I'll be a fuck-off burnout and ignore everything. Oh, I guess now I'll be little Ms. Perfect. Okay, time to choose again. I learned when you're not being yourself, you're just discrediting your worth. I'm worth my time. It's funny because when we're little, we write in diaries and think we're so important. We think that it's enough to just document your life, rant on paper, go on and on about a singular person, you. But now I think it needs more purpose. There's people depending on me. At least, that's what I tell myself. I have a family, I have friends. Yeah, my friends are a bit of a clusterfuck from how they were a year ago. Yeah, stuff's changing. Big deal. I never liked stability. I feel okay alone today. When you feed that craving to distract yourself, it gets worse and worse. I don't want to get used to being alone, though. It's easy. It gets lonely, but it's really easy. Loving people is tough shit. I wonder why life is the way it is. Not the societal stuff. That's easy to trace. But the loving, the caring, the overall goals of it. Maybe that's societal, too. But I want it to be something more, something innate. I want to love and care and make good people laugh and be happy. It's just a desire in me. I used to think I was evil, I would become a murderer. I was always worried about being possessed by the devil. But now, I see I just need to step forward. I'm no longer writing for me, but for the person or people I will bring into the world. I keep thinking about what Dee said about having children. She said it was scary, and she didn't want to bring someone into a world she thought was corrupt. Isn't it insane just how morally obligated women are in terms of humanity? We bring forth more people. Yeah, the men help us obviously, but in the end we choose whether or not to bear the child. We know how shitty life can be, all the pain, all the people who kill themselves, all the drunks, and yet something tells us, It's worth it. I've made it this far, and I know someone else can. I will teach them, I will love them. I will make their life better than mine. I don't see children really as connected to their mothers. We are all alone, essentially. It is the sad truth of the human body. Trapped in cavities, filled with liquid and no room for anything else. We can share thoughts in the presence of oxygen. 'Leh, you'll be loved forever. You are loved before you exist here with us. I love you. I will make your life good (not easy, not simple, not boring, but good). You possibly have the craziest, worst mother on earth, but you will cry and laugh and love and hate and I will help you. That's my wish, now that it's 11:11. Goodnight.
Friday, March 21, 2014
4,000 Luxx
I love these roads where the houses don't change.
Fix it, nigga. Right? My mind is a huge pot of sauce, and I don't know if adding more stuff will help. I do that, don't I? I say, "Oh, here, let's add this and this and this and this." I can't write, I can't function. I don't like when I get like this. It makes me hate talking, or hearing other people talk. It makes me yearn to be alone, but then crave interaction. It makes everything backwards and reversed and rewinding. It makes waterfalls shoot up, clouds rain on the atmosphere. It's not okay like this. It's not okay to feel like I'm on something when I'm sober. Mania.
Mania. When ghost alcohol runs through my blood, I scream in my car, I drive twice the speed limit. I can't stop. I keep going, going, smoke the next cigarette, find the next person to be around, find something to destroy yourself. Cut yourself. Kill yourself. Do something new. Try it once. My mind races, my heart races, I struggle in my bed like I'm in a straight jacket. I toss, make noises. Can't sit or stand or watch or listen. I can't do anything. I make lists, tell myself I'll get up and do this or that, but something brings me down. The up. Everything becomes spongy, like the moon, and I can feel fake laughter frothing at my teeth. I feel like a hound in the night, ready to take off when the patrol guard comes around with his net. It's mania, it's crazy. It's weird these days because I can see it for what it is. I used to think I was just different. I don't know what I am. My heart hurts at the thought of silence. I want to talk but I know once I do, I'll hate myself. I hate myself even when I don't. It's a never ending, fucked up nightmare. Spiral up, Spiral down. One minute I care, the next I sleep the days away. I don't eat, forget to shower, or just don't. Everything becomes a mess, I try to lose my mind, I call him and cry and feel sick and funny. I don't know I don't know I don't know. I want a hug right now. I just want a hug. That's all. I want a hug and someone on the phone. On and on I go, but you know what really helps? Self pity does NOT. NO, NO, NO!!!! Working my ass off. Throwing my all into something nice. My first broken heart carried me all the way to the fucking podium. So fuck the haters. I just need a little reminder: FUCK. YOU. I'm going to make something of myself. I'm going to learn. I'm going to laugh. And all of you who don't think I will, you'll fucking see me race ahead. I have determination. FUCK DEPRESSION. I need to write my paper, turn it in, then find something to do. I'll be okay. I'm so crazy, but I just want to fly and be me. I know one day someone will get that. I'm not as scared as I was when I was younger. Being young is really hard. Its get better. (Joke.) You don't need anybody. You don't need anybody. There will be a person, many people even, who can see me and be okay with it. My dad. I think of him. He still loves me no matter who I am. And I grew up telling myself, he has to. It's his job. But now I see it's really not. There's so many shitty parents who don't love their kids. I was just lucky. I am so lucky. I want to stop wanting. But the things is, and we all know, it's not going to stop. Ever. I've always been like this, and I always will be. I will always have depression, always have mania, always not want to trust. But I need to know how to deal with those demons. I've gotten a lot better. Remember when I used to lay in bed all day? Remember when I'd cry and drink and self harm and feel like shit over some boy? I'm better now. I smile sometimes, even. Don't tell me I'm not beautiful. I am gorgeous. Tomorrow I will look nice, I will be nice. Tonight, Jessi, who is an honest girl, said I make her happy. I look at her and see how beautiful her face is. She's a person who is real. She's gorgeous, so you'd think otherwise. She's awkward at times, happy, bubbling, unsure, but fuck she is a nice person. She wants to be liked, but she wants to be good. She reminds me of myself. She said I make her happy. Wow. That's an honor.
Fix it, nigga. Right? My mind is a huge pot of sauce, and I don't know if adding more stuff will help. I do that, don't I? I say, "Oh, here, let's add this and this and this and this." I can't write, I can't function. I don't like when I get like this. It makes me hate talking, or hearing other people talk. It makes me yearn to be alone, but then crave interaction. It makes everything backwards and reversed and rewinding. It makes waterfalls shoot up, clouds rain on the atmosphere. It's not okay like this. It's not okay to feel like I'm on something when I'm sober. Mania.
Mania. When ghost alcohol runs through my blood, I scream in my car, I drive twice the speed limit. I can't stop. I keep going, going, smoke the next cigarette, find the next person to be around, find something to destroy yourself. Cut yourself. Kill yourself. Do something new. Try it once. My mind races, my heart races, I struggle in my bed like I'm in a straight jacket. I toss, make noises. Can't sit or stand or watch or listen. I can't do anything. I make lists, tell myself I'll get up and do this or that, but something brings me down. The up. Everything becomes spongy, like the moon, and I can feel fake laughter frothing at my teeth. I feel like a hound in the night, ready to take off when the patrol guard comes around with his net. It's mania, it's crazy. It's weird these days because I can see it for what it is. I used to think I was just different. I don't know what I am. My heart hurts at the thought of silence. I want to talk but I know once I do, I'll hate myself. I hate myself even when I don't. It's a never ending, fucked up nightmare. Spiral up, Spiral down. One minute I care, the next I sleep the days away. I don't eat, forget to shower, or just don't. Everything becomes a mess, I try to lose my mind, I call him and cry and feel sick and funny. I don't know I don't know I don't know. I want a hug right now. I just want a hug. That's all. I want a hug and someone on the phone. On and on I go, but you know what really helps? Self pity does NOT. NO, NO, NO!!!! Working my ass off. Throwing my all into something nice. My first broken heart carried me all the way to the fucking podium. So fuck the haters. I just need a little reminder: FUCK. YOU. I'm going to make something of myself. I'm going to learn. I'm going to laugh. And all of you who don't think I will, you'll fucking see me race ahead. I have determination. FUCK DEPRESSION. I need to write my paper, turn it in, then find something to do. I'll be okay. I'm so crazy, but I just want to fly and be me. I know one day someone will get that. I'm not as scared as I was when I was younger. Being young is really hard. Its get better. (Joke.) You don't need anybody. You don't need anybody. There will be a person, many people even, who can see me and be okay with it. My dad. I think of him. He still loves me no matter who I am. And I grew up telling myself, he has to. It's his job. But now I see it's really not. There's so many shitty parents who don't love their kids. I was just lucky. I am so lucky. I want to stop wanting. But the things is, and we all know, it's not going to stop. Ever. I've always been like this, and I always will be. I will always have depression, always have mania, always not want to trust. But I need to know how to deal with those demons. I've gotten a lot better. Remember when I used to lay in bed all day? Remember when I'd cry and drink and self harm and feel like shit over some boy? I'm better now. I smile sometimes, even. Don't tell me I'm not beautiful. I am gorgeous. Tomorrow I will look nice, I will be nice. Tonight, Jessi, who is an honest girl, said I make her happy. I look at her and see how beautiful her face is. She's a person who is real. She's gorgeous, so you'd think otherwise. She's awkward at times, happy, bubbling, unsure, but fuck she is a nice person. She wants to be liked, but she wants to be good. She reminds me of myself. She said I make her happy. Wow. That's an honor.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Papa May Have
Billie Holiday.
Can we all just, not?
Must people come through at 5 minutes to close and order something, then bitch about it? Maybe it's just me, but sometimes I truly hate people. I miss Ryan. Fuck feelings. My chest hurts. I hope that egg was okay. Hm. Hm. Paranoia. I just can't seem to sleep until late late at night. I paint, read, watch shows, write, sit, whatever, but it doesn't work. My stomach is growling and I know I'm in a horrible fix. I think about death when I read, sometimes. How odd it would be to not be. Be to not be. I adore thoughts of passion, of lips and legs and hair and coffee days. It's all too good for me, but I will better myself. Drugs? Okay. Alcohol? Okay. I just can't sleep. Don't you see: this life isn't all nine to five work five to ten zombie ten to six sleep six to nine pretty up. It's two: love; three: mistakes; four: crash the car; five: drive me home in the rain. I'll never be the same. Not after Joe, my first boyfriend, Zach, my first love, and Ryan, my first friend. I'll remember these people when I'm old and have nothing to talk about but my past. I'll talk about Jenna and our 6 years of friendship. I'll talk about Gmo, the first real asswipe I ever got involved with. I'll talk about Richard Gamez and his conspiracy theories and Vietnam stories. I'll talk about Kelly and Becca and Rayna and all the people I didn't like at first then did. I am so so so tired. I will only get 4.5 hours of sleep tonight. At most. Maybe only 4. This isn't good. I want physical touch, want to cuddle, just unwind and fucking watch Netflix with Ryan or go get a fucking massage or whatever. I hate the public. I hate middle aged women with dyed hair and frosted highlights and purple jackets and big chunky jewelry and a constant need for white mocha sauce. I hate little kids who scream into the voice box, I REALLY hate awkward, snooty, unsure-of-themselves-overly-happy teenagers who think every moment is their big moment. I hate feeling so much pressure to do my work a certain way when I know if I was just left alone like I am with good shifts, I'd be able to get stuff done quicker. When I'm losing my shit, I'm not more productive. Hell, tonight I was slow and cranky. Yes. But fuck, I'm a human. If we've lost that concept in retail, I'm confused. I don't go to restaurants and treat waiters like shit. I don't go to coffee shops and think that I am fucking owed free shit or heavenly service just because I'm shelling out several bucks for a drink. Yeah, treat me with respect. Yeah, do your best. Cool. But don't fucking dehumanize me, or come around telling me my coworkers "paid" you for a drink that was always (really, ALWAYS?) made wrong... first, fix your fucking grammar. You paid them. Fuck. Seriously? Don't waste my time, please. There's people behind you in line. It's like, I'd love to give you free shit, but yeah, not really. You don't fucking deserve it!! You really expected me to give you something. And when I didn't, you ASKED for it?? Nerve. Wow. Ugh. And you, fucking sprawling out all over our lobby with your kid and his PSP making noise every 5 seconds, PLEASE LEAVE. SERIOUSLY. YOU DO NOT LIVE HERE. YOU ARE NOT DOING ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE LIKE WORK OR STUDY. YOU'RE JUST TAKING UP SPACE IN THE NICE LOBBY CHAIRS. KBYE??? Okay this is moving to Tumblrrr.
Can we all just, not?
Must people come through at 5 minutes to close and order something, then bitch about it? Maybe it's just me, but sometimes I truly hate people. I miss Ryan. Fuck feelings. My chest hurts. I hope that egg was okay. Hm. Hm. Paranoia. I just can't seem to sleep until late late at night. I paint, read, watch shows, write, sit, whatever, but it doesn't work. My stomach is growling and I know I'm in a horrible fix. I think about death when I read, sometimes. How odd it would be to not be. Be to not be. I adore thoughts of passion, of lips and legs and hair and coffee days. It's all too good for me, but I will better myself. Drugs? Okay. Alcohol? Okay. I just can't sleep. Don't you see: this life isn't all nine to five work five to ten zombie ten to six sleep six to nine pretty up. It's two: love; three: mistakes; four: crash the car; five: drive me home in the rain. I'll never be the same. Not after Joe, my first boyfriend, Zach, my first love, and Ryan, my first friend. I'll remember these people when I'm old and have nothing to talk about but my past. I'll talk about Jenna and our 6 years of friendship. I'll talk about Gmo, the first real asswipe I ever got involved with. I'll talk about Richard Gamez and his conspiracy theories and Vietnam stories. I'll talk about Kelly and Becca and Rayna and all the people I didn't like at first then did. I am so so so tired. I will only get 4.5 hours of sleep tonight. At most. Maybe only 4. This isn't good. I want physical touch, want to cuddle, just unwind and fucking watch Netflix with Ryan or go get a fucking massage or whatever. I hate the public. I hate middle aged women with dyed hair and frosted highlights and purple jackets and big chunky jewelry and a constant need for white mocha sauce. I hate little kids who scream into the voice box, I REALLY hate awkward, snooty, unsure-of-themselves-overly-happy teenagers who think every moment is their big moment. I hate feeling so much pressure to do my work a certain way when I know if I was just left alone like I am with good shifts, I'd be able to get stuff done quicker. When I'm losing my shit, I'm not more productive. Hell, tonight I was slow and cranky. Yes. But fuck, I'm a human. If we've lost that concept in retail, I'm confused. I don't go to restaurants and treat waiters like shit. I don't go to coffee shops and think that I am fucking owed free shit or heavenly service just because I'm shelling out several bucks for a drink. Yeah, treat me with respect. Yeah, do your best. Cool. But don't fucking dehumanize me, or come around telling me my coworkers "paid" you for a drink that was always (really, ALWAYS?) made wrong... first, fix your fucking grammar. You paid them. Fuck. Seriously? Don't waste my time, please. There's people behind you in line. It's like, I'd love to give you free shit, but yeah, not really. You don't fucking deserve it!! You really expected me to give you something. And when I didn't, you ASKED for it?? Nerve. Wow. Ugh. And you, fucking sprawling out all over our lobby with your kid and his PSP making noise every 5 seconds, PLEASE LEAVE. SERIOUSLY. YOU DO NOT LIVE HERE. YOU ARE NOT DOING ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE LIKE WORK OR STUDY. YOU'RE JUST TAKING UP SPACE IN THE NICE LOBBY CHAIRS. KBYE??? Okay this is moving to Tumblrrr.
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