No Broom Required Policy

I knew I was going to end up right back there.

But at least if we do it this way, I don't have to stay there for prolonged periods of time, and I can keep my little Lulu safe.

Because I really do need something fluffy and purring to stay sane, apparently.

My little ginger snap of a puppy just doesn't cut it when we're separated for prolonged periods of time.

I simply cannot believe that I am two weeks away from winter break. It doesn't even seem real, let alone possible.

But this is real life. I'm becoming more and more content with this newfangled idea I've arrived at. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

So let me be a blushing bride, and no, you of all people are definitely not invited to my beautiful gorgeously pretty wedding to the person who's made me happiest, because you would ruin it, and quite frankly, you don't deserve to share in our joy.

Safety Pins & Losenages

An idea.
A pencil sketch.

It's always amazed me that art is basically just covering up mistakes until finally, at the end, the picture looks the way it did in your head, except the artist always finds little places that they know aren't exactly right.

But sometimes, if you try to cover up too many of the mistakes, if you erase too much, you end up worse off than you started.

We're all just sketches.
Un-inked and messy.

And bit by bit, we ink ourselves. We decide which areas look right, and make them permanent.

We make commitments.

And once we've inked the lines and erased the pencil,

we color.

We shade.

And sometimes, we get that wrong too, and then we either accept it for what it is, or start all over again.

We're all just sketches and artists,
trying to decide which lines stay
and which ones go.

Move West to California, Become A Centerfold

Such an attention whore.

Such a whore. Look at her, she's terrible. Giving away the only thing she has to call her own, just because it's the only thing she feels like she still has control of.

I can take on this role no problem. I can shift through so many different personas by will. I can make shit up and act like it greatly affects me.

But I still can't figure out who the hell I am, and it shows every time I buy more god damn books about growing up and self discovery.

I am a miserable person. Blah. I just want it to stop.

I want it all to click back into place, I want to have more days like Dorney Park that end with a perfect kiss and happy days like getting into college and figuring everything out and stumbling into money and finding peace.

I want everything. But I guess I really don't deserve it.

What have I ever done to deserve it?

Pride

...is a very lonely sin.

Too damn prideful to ask for help. Too damn prideful to even admit you need help in the first place. Too prideful to admit to something, to prideful to say what bothers you and what you're not okay with.

Too prideful for everything.

Independent. Bah. If only. I would not mind being clingy and following him like a puppy because I know deep down I am that desperate for his love and adoration. But there's no way my pride would ever step aside to let me do that. So instead I sit here by myself turning things over in my mind and coming to the same realization I always do - I do not know who the fuck I am, and thus cannot figure out what the fuck I ever want to do.

Because he was happy that I had my own interests. And I do, admitedly, but that doesn't mean I dislike being attached at the hip in certain situations, specifically those where I am in a strange environment surrounded by strange people I have never met before.

Or even fricken Otakon, where I felt completely abandoned and unwanted, and when we did meet up for certain panels he was cold and cruel and cranky, like he hated being around me. And yeah, I know I goofed with not knowing where the hotel was, but we found it eventually, and I had had other pressing matters filtering in and out of my head that at least in my opinion were much more important than a stupid convention.

But to quote, for a lot of it you do have to go "do your own thing" which works great I supposed with people who aren't morbidly terrified of being alone and suffer from extreme sessions of seperation anxiety which then turns to misplaced aggression.

But it's all my fault anyway because I am way to prideful to ever admit any of this.

I hate that I know all of my problems and cant solve them. It's very fucking frustrating. I really just want to let everything go but I feel that that's sort of denying some sort of emotion.

I don't want to bother anyone, so instead I get angry and defensive because I've lost the ability to hide my tears except not really because he only notices now and then and didn't notice at all during Otakon or Assateague so I guess I'm doing okay.

Because I'm falling apart and I'm completely alone and even though things are getting better they're only better when Im downing pills that make me feel so fake so I don't take them like I'm supposed to and then when I don't my mind is randomly infiltrated by thoughts of betrayal and older memories that manage to link together and wash up to my conscious thought processes and so I cut myself off from touch and words and everything and just want to be alone and at the same time being alone only makes it worse and I just can't win and really don't know what to do.

Especially now. One more week, and then I really am alone again. I'm such a pessimist. I don't want to feel fake but I don't want to keep having random crying sessions and I'm sick of always being so fucking miserable and there's really nothing I can do about it so I hate complaining about it because I know how annoying that can be.

Pride. It's fucking lonely man. Fucking lonely as hell.

Now the Bear Trap is Your Mouth

Everyone I know is playing StarCraft II.

It's funny how life can keep going on and on when you feel like you're stuck.
Like you've been stuck.
Like you'll always be stuck.

Like you're sitting out on a lake staring up at the sky at 7:03, seven hours pass, and it's 7:04.

No, I am not innebriated. No, I am not intoxicated.

But I'm also not thinking very clearly, if at all. I am fighting all sorts of urges and darknesses and everything is just pissing me off and everyone's reaction is just making me more and more annoyed. Because people are getting pissed at me. Because people are trying to help. Because people are leaving or not leaving or everything or nothing and I don't like any of their reactions and I want to be left alone and be surrounded by people at the same time.

Surrounded just so I know I have to act, have to be a certain way. So I can keep pretending. So that when people repeat that "everything is going to be okay" I can just nod and smile.

There was an investigation, forensics, finger prints, nineteen children died. Seven days in prison.

I am beyond gone. I am beyond desperate. I am just plain lost now, and I've lost all drive to try and pull myself in, so I'm just going to let myself wander more and more until I just deteriorate. I don't want to explain things to people half-cheerily, laughing even though it feels like I'm being stabbed in the stomach every time I replay the tale. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of feeling like I need to make up an exuse for feeling anything, for being worried, stressed, hurt, depressed. For feeling bad about making people worry. I just want it all to stop.

Dear jesus please make it fucking stop.