and what do i say once the gag has been removed, at least partially removed…
what a frightful, eventful, boring day. pieces belong to me, others covet and protect their moments of the day. i wish they would all just disappear, me as well. do i care of the trouble we end up in? do i care for the announcement of a plan and a means for our death.
the smile betrays everyone. oh, she’s so intense, they say. not even a clue.
my need for self-destruction is as demanding as an organisms’s need for oxygen. i give not; i only take.
you’ll make a remarkable teacher, she said. how can the professor not see through the surface. am i that good? i don’t want to be that good.
but i am multiplicitous, meaning ONLY that there is always, always, always an “if,” “and,” or “but” to every feeling thought, feeling, emotion, and action. what i am is only what i pretend to be. i don’t even know me without the pretense.
the music offering the sentiments I of which I am deprived. can i just fucking scream? i want to cut. last night was so close. what began? i can not speak for i don’t know. sheila has been talking in my god damn ear. i hear her accent which she is less shy of using.
we’ve decided to bite the bullet and look foolish. we are going to collect some toys for the littles and bring them to randy’s when we go. maybe they’ll feel safe, or rather we’ll feel safe letting them out. thought about doing it as Xmas gifts. D. is upset that we want to do this. I understand but they can not be ignored. they want the sense of family from which they were deprived for so long. and as some wake up to our reality, it’s better they wake up to feelings of warmth, safety, comfort, and love, love, love.
why do i remember that damn hot cocoa sticker on M.’s ?
the music is a tonic. where did i go wrong?
i want someone to love me like a family member? take care of me. make me feel protected and safe and warm. D. is only able to provide emotionally. i don’t feel safe that he will take care of finances or step up to the plate in any situation. he is challeneged in some ways.
this is why writing more often is futile. i’m so glad we no longer have to study Robert Frost. i kept getting flooded with images of the grandparents house and didn’t know how to deal with them. this is another good fucking reason not to write. it angers me. it makes me so pissed off i don’t know how to deal, cope, or contain. i want to punch something.
i want it all to matter, god dammit. somehow, somewhere, please let it matter to someone. please let it make a difference in my suffering. because know undeniably, i am the mother of all suffering. i invented it. what did he say? i brought you into this world…i can take you out. then fucking take me out asshole.
i told D. that earth was hell and I meant it. there is a paradise the good people go to and the bad people come to earth. earth is hell. and i must have been really really bad because my hell is worse than others.
shitful bitch. who is someone to compare miseries? when someone doesn’t know what happened five mintes again or what is typed above the line that i can’t see. so fuck off.
i’m caving in.
i need to laugh. i finally figured out how to post a video on a blog. wasn’t that what the tech. class was supposed to do?
do get too happy in your pants.
end it here and enjoy the show. save your potty mouth when the littles aren’t around.
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