*scream*

Work is dead. The Scrabulous website is down. I need my crack. I'm going to rip faces if I don't get my crack!

Borderline Personality Disorder (unedited conglomerate).

Right now. My brain and heart twists into each other. Painful tangles of what I know is rational along with my instinct and heart . No cognition. Marijuana. Distract. Not really, no. Cold water. Drink it. Distraction. Promise ring, promise ring, promise ring. Look at it. LOOK at it! Not enough. Nothing is enough. Nothing is ever enough. I will keep my mouth shut. Something about aging helps me with this, but inside I am screaming. I will be abandoned. I am a horrible person. What is there about me that makes it worth it? Stop looking at the time. I already know what tonight was supposed to entail. That doesn't help me. Look at the phone again. No, nobody has called. Play more Scrabble online. I love him so damn much. Love is the only thing keeping me from not lashing out on him for no reason. Controlling this feels like I'm fighting against something that is killing me but giving up the fight. I do not like the feeling! I am not one to lose a fight! I have to surrender. Surrendering feels like suffocating. I feel like I'm not being MYSELF. Self control, self control, self control. Take another hit. Holding it as I type this sentence. Now I am coughing. Check my phone. Nothing. STOP IT. I am pathetic. Fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or flight. Clonazepam and Marijuana takes the edge off. I want to cut the tip of my tongue off. Literally. Not the expression but I picture doing this at least a couple times a month. Same for pulling my earrings through the piercings in my ears, or pulling the bar through my tongue piercing to the tip of my tongue. I have stopped cutting. It has been months. I am on day two without a cigarette and I am craving one so badly I could rip faces. If I think about having one for long enough, eventually this calms down. And now? Now I'm back to where I began. Why can I not be okay? What did you do to me, Nature? Check my phone again. YOU FUCKING MORON. Not for nothing my sound is off. I almost don't want the phone to ring. If I talk to him, I don't trust myself to not say something stupid and uncalled for. I am trying to control myself. Check my phone again. He called! I missed it and now my stomach is burning. I feel good that he called but now I feel guilty for not answering. However as I just mentioned, I don't want to put him through Hell for my own issues. The fucking TV. I look up and why oh why must the Burger King guy be on? I fucking loathe him. I also loathe the surinam toad. If you don't know what that is, look it up. Disgust. Patterns. Certain patterns make me anxious. Patterns made from HOLES. LOOK IT UP, I tell you. He called me again. Am I an asshole?

I just spoke to him.

I cannot wait...

to make a list of all of the things I will NOT miss after I move out of this fucking place.

I can't stop thinking about this today...

Machines. 98 years here. Brown blocks of chronology visible through dried and opened lips. A small bug lands on her mouth. Like the one that bit me last week on my hand. She's not even dead yet. Tiny and frail, she (the machines) gasps for air. A dying, wrinkled flesh robot. My Grandma.

We leave the hospital. Sun showers ensue. A full rainbow comes through the clouds. I have never seen a full one before. Only halves or parts.

Two days later, gone for good. The day after that, burial.











5.23.10 - 8.14.08


*Edit* The pictures are getting cut off but only a little bit and I don't know why. Still not all too used to this site. If you really care, just right click and view image.

.

The only one who would apologize
was someone through a screen

I smell your spit on my face
and my smokes are around the block

My stomach is down to the chair
and my ears itch so deeply - I cannot reach to scratch


... Breakthrough.

Smoke or cut.

Smoke or cut. Smoke or cut. Smoke or cut. Smoke or cut.

Random Ray ramble...

Firstly, Happy Autumnal Equinox to anyone reading this today. =)

Today I am trying to put my end of Summer goal into action. No more cigarettes. At least no more cigarettes daily, no more grubbing (at least for a long while), no more buying packs. I hate this because I love smoking. I love the act. It's definitely more of a psychological addiction than a physical one for me. I know this is true. However, just in case - I have some stupid (insert whatever brand you like here) gum to use that J got for free from some sample website.

Anyway... Only six more days until we move into the new apartment. It's been super stressful and tiring but words cannot express how elated I will be to be out of the fuckery I am in right now. Constantly getting sick due to the environment (basement apartment plus a filthy roommate), the disrespect I (and my friends) have received; The list can go on. However since I am leaving, I will also leave the long list behind as well. Or at least for now. Maybe there will be a retrospect post at some point. Hah.

Baba (John, J's step dad who is actually more like his real dad because his "real" dad isn't the quite the best person in the world) helped us out a great deal yesterday. We went to Home Depot and bought a bunch of wood and built our own platform high bed frame! Now we will have room for storage underneath the bed, plus no more bed squeaking because of a shitty frame or box spring. *wink* This platform is absolutely diesel. He also gave J some money for our U-Haul and other things we will need. A nice wad of cash. We were not expecting that. I feel a little guilty. I'm going to get him a Thank You card. J was almost in tears on the way home last night saying how he doesn't know how he can ever repay John for what he's done for him. I told him, "Just tell him that. That's all you need to do." J is blessed and now, I am extra blessed.

So it turns out I had/have a sinus infection. I'm on day four of antibiotics. Antibiotics; What a wonderful thing.

I just scratched my right eyebrow.

Crisp air and a cricket choir.
Singing their deaths.

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.