It wasn't a mosquito.

I just killed a bug full of my blood. I try not to kill any insects unless they harm me. This was some tiny little thing that has been flying around me on and off here at work today. I had enough once I felt itchiness on my left hand. Fuck guilt. I smashed it with a notebook. The fucker was fast - but I am faster. I hope it enjoyed it's last meal via my body. Now I'm itchy and have a little red dot for proof of death on a file folder. I wonder what kind of bug it was and I wonder if the blood stain will go from red to brown.

I'm leaving work early to go to the doctor. I can't wait this out any longer and I have so many things to do this weekend. The Fibromyalgia is acting up too... but I'm used to that.

Hello, Friday.

So once again here I am. I'm sitting at "work". Listening to 'Bbydhyonchord' by Aphex Twin via my Project Playlist thingy on my MySpace page. It's the first song that came on when I decided to listen to it (it's always on shuffle) and I must say, it's rather appropriate for right now. There is something about his music that melts into the creases of my brain and drips down all the way to my heart. I feel this way about a lot of music (since music is my Love) but his music is different since there are usually no words involved.

Music always intrigued me from every possible viewpoint. For instance, when you hear a song, it becomes it's own identity. I don't know if that makes sense. I guess what I feel is that you almost forget that people are putting together sounds to make one conglomerate section of space, time and sound. Sure you can see sound waves with proper instruments and your ear drum does technically vibrate, but really, listening, is an pseudo-intangible thing. I am insane. I am insane? I wish I could convey what I mean properly.

I think I may post some old and shitty and also some not-so-shitty poetry on here from time to time. I haven't written much lately. I haven't really done anything lately. I feel trapped where I live. Thank BOB that will be changing in a little over a week. Same with cigarettes. *waves goodbye to those on Sunday* I must sing. Some way. Somehow. By the way, does anyone know how to copyright photos and poetry on here? Not that anyone would want to steal my shit, but how do you make it official?

On my way to work this morning I used the heated seats in my car. A sure sign that Autumn is almost here. This pleases me. I love feeling the cool air from outside while my back and bottom is warm. I love wearing comfy clothes, breathing crisp air and the scent of dead and/or burning leaves. I took a different route today because of shitty Long Island traffic. The sunlight hit everything around me so beautifully, it made me want to die. I don't understand why I feel this way! Beautiful? Die? Why put the two together? Maybe I just ache for happiness so when I see something enjoyable it subconsciously reminds me of how crappy my life has been? Oh woe is me, woe is me. "It could always be worse", Jason says. "You could wake up with no arms." This is true. Very true.

My boss just turned on the air conditioning even though it's chilly. I told him I was sick and cold. "It's just a little stuffy in here..." he said. I love the consideration. I shouldn't complain. I've known the way he is for over three years now. It truly is chilly in here. Oh well. Slaves don't get much say, do they?

I think I'm going to call a doctor soon and try to get seen after work. I can't stand this anymore. Day three.

I am thankful...

for my best friends. They know who they are. My longest one in particular, Kristen, just helped me move a bunch of shit into my new place.

My friends (including my future husband who is one of my best friends and has known me for 14 years now, Jason) keep me going. Usually. I only say 'usually' because there are the moments when I want to rip my face off, bleed all over strangers and scream at them in tongues. I'd like to believe most wouldn't deserve such a spectacle, however I'm pretty much a misanthropist. And if some weren't worthy of such a gross display of insanity, at least they could walk away from it with a great story to tell. As well as some bloody garments. They make all kinds of things that take blood out of fabrics now, no?

Hey - you live, you learn. So I'm lucky to have those that understand me.

I'm used to LiveJournal...

but I will post something here anyhow to "start".

I feel empty at this moment. I have a lot to look forward to but I'm cursed with my severe depression, panic disorder and a few other things that I'm sure is the mental disorder du jour for anyone that has had their latte made the wrong way, broke their Blackberry or whatever.

I feel that all the torture I've been through since before I could speak up until now, in various forms has permanently shaped me for life. Many say this isn't so. Many say you can get help. Sure, I believe it - but how much help is there really? No matter how happy I am, there is always a lingering misery. I see misery in the most beautiful things. This isn't a choice. It was a choice when I was a teenager because I felt that was all I could relate to. Sometimes I still choose it because it's practically all I know, and what one knows equals comfort.

I have amazing pipes and have done nothing with this talent. The biggest reason being is because of the external torment I received as a child because I looked different than everyone else. Of course now, people claim I am beautiful and unique. I always liked when people use that word 'unique'. I know what you're really saying.

Well, I'm sitting at my dead end job and leaving soon. I believe I have a sinus/throat/ear infection. Yay for physical pain to add to the mental! Do I want some cheese with this *whine*? Anyone have some stringed instruments and some morose notes to follow? I do love music you know. I also love cheese.

I will end this entry with something I started telling myself years ago but of course haven't put into action (yet?):

Time to change my nature before nature robs my time.