“Accidentally on purpose…”

the attention just encourages her..

Month: June, 2014

this infinity is too big for me

I don’t want to think about my crazy here in such an “out loud” kind of way today.

There are other things in my head too. Like the way I get so frustrated over how hard it is to acquire the things I really need or want. I have everything else. Also, the way I feel eve more trapped than ever, my little cell is now a big, pretty kind of solitary where I have the extra special torture of owning a vehicle I can’t afford to drive and that is like having the key to get free but never finding the lock. I would make an appt to get my most recent tattoos touched up but I can’t. So of course new ones are def out of the equation. I keep trying to read and then I start to panic, little knots in my stomach, hearing every little sound, seeing every tiny movement around me. I pick up a book and suddenly I am in sensory overload and reading is impossible.

I don’t want to think about my crazy at all…but every effort to distract myself fails because of it.

I wrote something. I’ve no idea if it is good or not. It has no title and I’m pretty sure it isn’t finished. I’m in no condition to figure out these things but I’ll put it here to sit and be forgotten most likely. I think it has been almost two years since I wrote anything that wasn’t a rambling blog post.


You brighten my skies
In such a way
that it hurts my eyes
and burns my skin.
Your silence hurts my soul
It quietly ties my stomach
Into so many little knots
Each new one tighter than the last.
Counting off the days and years
That have been taken away
While I sit unable to shed all these tears
Let go these heavy heavy burdens
I have carried and hidden and covered
For so many years.


I know, I know, how dare I be unhappy. The nerve. How dare I be so selfish as to be who I am and have these feelings and want things when I have all I have. Yes, I am a selfish ugly bitch and I don’t fucking care. I pay my dues every minute, every hour, every day, every chance I have to shine for you or help you or comfort you and yes I am this selfish.

Truth is…I am a lie.


here, take the end of this rope…now just hang there for eternity because you’re not allowed to let go

I was just angry and frustrated. Now I’m also scared and fighting off the panic attack. The kind you get from feeling like you are actually running for your life because you were so traumatized as a child that even in the middle of the day with lights on everywhere you are terrified of the darkness and loud noise that there seems no logical explanation for.

I know I’ll be fine at some point but these periods, these random moments throughout each day where I feel so much like I just can’t take anything anymore…they are closer together and last longer each time and soon I may just fucking give up.

I’m done subscribing to the notion that just because EVERYONE on the planet has it worse than I do, I am not allowed to ever experience or express a negative emotion or thought without the guilt of a thousand catholics.

It is really tiring focusing so much energy on faking it. I can’t be lonely because I live in a nice house? I can’t be sad or feel ugly because my husband buys me things? I can’t hate the way I look to the point of wishing I could literally cut away the fat on my stomach, arms and thighs because other people think I look just fine or other people weigh more and somehow I’m evil for not being so in love with my appearance? I can’t be mentally ill because then I’m just a childish drama queen, so I have to fake it. Fake it for so long that I can’t even cry…but I finally did and it didn’t help. I thought it would. I thought, if I could just feel for a minute then I can get by a few more years.

and why the fuck can’t I just be? be me. be careless. be spontaneous. be able to change from one thing to another and then back again? be able to read more than one page of a book. be able to go to bed at night to the sound of music or the sound of silence? be fun instead of obnoxious. be in love without wondering if my feelings are real anymore? be silent when I have nothing to say? I am the queen of filling awkward silences and I hate it. why can’t I be someone that people want to talk to? why do I have to keep being?

fuck it.