Get Fucked

If there is one thing i can't stand, it is fake friends.  Tristan has always been questionable in my eyes in terms of trust.  he's broken it before, and i was a fool to think he wouldn't do it again.  there is always some excuse, some reason that we can't hang out or play DnD.  this has been going on for the past month.  and what's the kicker is that these pathetic excuses use to be reasons FOR playing DnD.  he's blowing me off, and what's worse he's spending that time with my ex, who has nothing good to say about me.  i never take jabs at his personal decisions or lifestyle choices, no matter how mad i am at him.  but he will be quick to judge me.  Jamie is a far better friend, but is easily influenced.  naive to a degree.  if he didn't have that child that used to be mine i would tell him to get fucked and never have dealings with him.  i don't need people like this in my life, but unfortunately if i want to be a part of Rowen's life, i have to deal with his bullshit.  and it is bullshit.  i have been seriously considering a hex, for i still have a swatch of his blood, but last time i hexed someone, someone died.  that's playing with fire, but i am so disgusted with his behavior as of late that i'm tempted to make a doll and saw off its foot.  i've already talked to him about this.  more excuses, more pathetic lies.  i'm at my wits end; he and Jamie were my only friends, and now i am alone again. 

am i really surprised? no.  how can i be?
my coffee pot broke.
my electricity is about to be turned off.
i have a compression fracture in my spine.
my dad is talking behind my back to my ex's mother, and taking her side on everything.

i wish i was dead, but i have serenity to live for.  it's not fair.
if this is a dark night of the soul, i'm waiting for things to get worse.

everybody can get fucked. i hate this town, i hate this situation... because of my injury i CAN'T go back to work, though i've been ready to take the leap and give up on disability because five years is ridiculous. 

i wish i were dead.

Believe in Strength

Through all the ups and downs of the past few months i would have never expected to be in a situation like this.  on saturday i got into a skiing accident and acquired a compression fracture on my L2 in my spine.  i am now on high dose perkaset.  the addict in my is doing its little happy dance.  the rest of me is filled with dread and pain.

my maximum dose per day is nine.  i've decided to reduce that to six. i can take three at a time, and that seems to be the only way to combat this awful agony i am in.  after talking to my supports and sponsor, i think i can get through this without stuffing a pill up my nose or taking a handful.  even if i don't believe in myself, i have lots of people who do.  what a blessing!

i've been doing a lot of goddess work with the Queen of the Underworld Ereshkeigal.  she is a sumerian goddess of severity, ordeals and death.  i looked over my shoulder and found that she has been behind me for the past five years, pushing me, cutting away that which is not necessary and testing my fortitude.  though she is a stern mistress, she gives me strength.  there is a lot of despair and crushing anxiety in my life right now, but now that i know i have her in my corner i can face these challenges and crises with grace and power.

i can do this.

i hope...

fuck everything

everything i touch i break.  what a true saying.  i can't seem to do anything right and every time i think about swallowing a bottle of pills or putting a gun to my head, i have that beautiful ball and chain named Serenity that puts the brakes on.  I curse her existence some days, tethering me to this wretched world that would be better off without me.  I can't let her grow up without a mother, one that loves her and would do anything for her, even survive one more day just to see her face at the end of the week.  I drag myself through every week just to see her smile when she sees me.  I exist solely for her benefit.  There is absolutely nothing but her to live for anymore.  I wish i had died in that car crash, before all this mess.  Go out on a high note.  Everything about me is a lie.  Every smile, every fantasy scenario, every dice roll, every hit, every step.  I wish i was dead.  I wish i was dead.  I WISH I WAS DEAD.

No Need

Bradford was a mindfuck.  Relationships still suck.  If she can't handle my anger -- regardless of the fact if it was justified or not -- it just won't work.  i didn't throw things.  i didn't scream.  i didn't make threats.  i didn't call names.  i just said i was angry.  and everything my irrational mind is telling me says 'humans still suck, don't bother with them. period.'  but i have to keep an open mind.  in order to get a new card, i would have to report it stolen.  it wasn't a threat, it was a new policy.  she wouldn't hear it.  why didn't i see this before?  she figured if she were my candyman, i would never leave her.  that was before.  i thought she was more reasonable this time around.  i want to say i'm a fuckup, which still holds weight, but i can't think that way anymore.  it leads me to bad places.  i feel like i'm puppeteering a corpse.  i'm pulling the strings and making me move, but i'm really just dead and nobody has noticed yet.  they say fake it till you make it.  i've been faking it for a long time, and whenever i reveal the truth -- that i'm really just dead -- i hurt people.  i hurt them by staying in one place, not even doing anything.  it can't be helped.  no matter how i try, i always cause harm.  i make ammends, knowing in my heart that others might owe me bigger apologies, but then am reminded that i do it for me, not them, because i'm supposed to be worth it.  worth it.  WORTH IT.  i have thirteen years to believe that, or i'm in trouble.  once i'm no longer responsible for serenity i'm in big trouble.  there is a lot of terror in living i've come to realize, and a brief reprieve has made it all the more intense.  the pills keep the tearing dread away, but its there, looming over me like my murderous shadow.  what goes on when i'm not looking?  why is there never clarity without suffering?  and sometimes the suffering is so great that the end product is so warped, no clarity can be achieved?  it's a horrible risk, but i'm not sure which is worse.  remaining the same or changing.  i feel like i've changed a lot inside, but it's coming out all wrong.  i'm doing it again, but this time nobody has died.  yet.  i'm still a corpse here.  and people find it entertaining to watch my rigored limbs flail about, pretending to be alive and stable and a part of this fucked up place called earth.  i'd ask god/dess why, but really, i don't think It knows.  that's why we're here, to figure this shit out.  and to be resigned to the fact that there might not be an answer means that there is no point.  except for maybe a flash of hedonism, existence is utterly futile.  enjoy the small moments, they are the only reason for living now and again.  how many times has this happened before?  i'm starting to see the cracks in reality, and ignoring them only makes them bigger and more challenging.  i would be an awesome supervillian, but i'd have to 'quit my dayjob' in order to really make a lasting difference.  then again, nobody would understand why, so there would be no point.  no point in anything. small things.  i can make zen smile.  that makes me happy sometimes.  i think i'll keep doing it.  at least for a little while.

I'm tired of waking up and feeling dread

I Did It Again

I must be stupid in the head.  I can't handle the stress of another's stress.  I'm not his mother, his counselor or his teacher.  I'm supposed to be an adult confidant and a mature partner.  I can't handle otherwise, I can't get better with this childish behavior.  I can't be physical all the time, with or without a relationship.  I need to be alone.  I'm a lesbian, I don't want men in my life anymore.  The more I try, the more I fail.  Then again, my track record with women isn't much better, but the good times were so much more intense with her than any other person.  What I don't understand is why I can't enjoy good things while I have them.  I can't accept stability in exchange for a lie.  So I break away to be alone again.  I guess I'm not done evolving and changing, and I need to do this on my own without intimate help.  I thought I was ready.  I was wrong.  If I must be lonely, I think I'd rather be alone.

Shut up, World