I don't want today to end. I don't want tomorrow to come, and I wish that tonight could have lasted forever. Well, some parts of it anyway. I do enjoy being mistaken for a guy, and my dates were lovely. The music kinda sucked, but we had fun dancing anyway.
But even though I have important things to do tomorrow and I can't wait to see my daughter again, closing the book on this day is an anxious mess. I don't want to sleep because I don't want to dream. Nightmares lately anyway. I could try and stay awake all night, but then I'll be a wet noodle tomorrow, and I have obligations.
I can feel the past gnawing on the present, and the future looming in, just like it does every day. Maybe I'm just lonely. If I don't have anyone around to be with, I have to be with myself. Try as I might, I still can't stand spending time with myself. Now "by myself" is not when I write. My characters and they're nuances keep me company. I am truly alone when I can't write, everyone is asleep and the only counselor on duty is far more interested in the TV and a midnight nap than me.
It could be that I just like sleeping during the day.
I miss her. My ex that is. She was the biggest bitch on the face of the planet to me, but when the good times were good, they were really fucking GOOD. But that ship has sailed. I'm hoping Nate is just how I remember him and not some sociophobe with mommy issues. I have to trust him. It's hard.
Maybe my meds just haven't kicked in yet. Yeah, that could be it.
I'm losing my vision. My far vision has always been shit, but it's getting worse. My reading vision used to be pristine, and now it's shot to all hell. I can't even see without enough light my night vision is so bad. My hands tremble like a leaf in the wind. Manual dextrous tasks are now daunting. Typing. Silverware. Pill tops. Pencils. Buttons. All new challenges as my body (or brain) deteriorates for some unsung reason. Being an artist or author isn't possible without my vision or my hands. The two things I need the most right now are failing me.
I should get a pet. They're easy compared to people.
I should stop trying to make myself feel one way or another. It's hard to decline affections when I am so starved of intimate contact. I guess I just don't want to ever be alone. And if that means I have to say "I love you," it's almost a shoe in. I try not to lie, but significant others get touchy about that word if it's not said enough in combination, as they appear in order. Not backwards. Not upsidown, Dial the fucking number.
empty is a good word for what i feel like, and have been feeling like for several years. the fear of not doing anything worthwhile with my life struck me hard today. how do people just work their lives away with nothing but a boring retirement on wages no one in their right mind could live on? i'm going to be put away at this rate. my paranoia is doing nothing but getting worse. someone has been fucking with me. maybe not "out to get me" but a befuckery only known by people that are mean, smart and have way too much free times on their hands.
lots of people fit this bill. its hard not to hide anything valuable or look over my shoulder every few minutes. this crazy house i'll be in for the next year looks like nothing that would advance me further in my endeavors. help me survive from day to day, sure. maybe i won't dread the next morning so much. or get off my ass to take care of me, my environment and most of all my daughter.
it's all for her at this point.
that right there is a really shitty way to survive; in dread, i mean. inactivity and boredom are my worst enemies, ones i thought were my allies at one point. if i weren't so lazy or broke or a million other things, my life might be worth living. i guess i just have to be the best mom i can be, because she's all that's left of me that really matters. finding the shining star within sounds romantic, but is almost futile, though i would try until i'm blue in the face. nurturing her star so she doesn't face the same fate as myself is my main priority.
please don't live like this, serenity. it is my greatest wish for you that you do something fulfilling with your life, whatever that may be. in a way the your grandparents wanted for me, but i pass to you. mommy is a little too fucked up to not fuck you up, so do your best, okay? i love you, more than i could love myself or any significant other. this is not your fault.
i'm not really sure where i am at this point in my life. it's as if my life has paused for an interlude before moving on to the next big event. i'm ... waiting. for what? i'm kind of getting impatient here. i'm drowning in a sea of nothing. nothing at all. i'm losing myself to the tide of these personae. the pills keep them at bay most of the time, but every once in a while they pop up unannounced when i feel like i'm about to panic. everyone has changed. everything has changed. but me. i'm still right here. stuck to a schema of eradicated truths. its a ghost i cannot see, but i know it's there.
contemplating death a lot lately. good thing i have responsibilities, huh?
if there is one thing i cannot take, it is being defeated again and again by this damnable illness that hijacks my brain from time to time, often triggered by external stressors. i am giving up my baby to a couple that will take much better care of him than i can offer. this is an irreversible choice. i am moving again because i am repeatedly assfucked by the department of social services. if one is going to help, i expect it to actually help, not to hinder. my relationship is rocky at best, distant on your average day and a maelstrom of turmoil at worst. i'm not entirely sure what the hell i'm doing, but whatever it is i guess it's not good enough.
i'm not good enough for her or my children or anybody. i guess i need to remove myself before i do any more damage than i've already inflicted. figuratively or literally, i'm not sure yet. it would take approximately five and half hours for me to die, according to my goodbye playlist. i'm wondering how long a mass amount of pills would take to destroy my liver and fry my brain. i wonder what it would be like to be hit by a car and bleed out within a matter of minutes. i wonder what it would be like to be struck by lightning. i wonder what it would be like to just die.
i wonder these things too much.
i am not healthy, i'm rational enough to realize this. these characters, these ... alternates ... they take the drivers seat more and more. i'm happy to sit in the passengers side, watching the road roll by without me. let them take responsibility. let them handle it. i want to curl up in the dark and never squint in the light again. it's too bright. it's too brilliantly painful, illuminating all that is sick about me and the world.
i've lost faith in humanity, one human at a time.
i'm ill, i'm sick, i'm terminal.
i'll just sit here and eat my emo crackers in silence. i miss silence. there is never quiet in my head, so i blare music to drown it out. sometimes it works. sometimes it doesn't. i am not okay, but why push that on others? they have their own shit to deal with. i'll deal with mine, come better or worse.
i have broken. i can piece myself back together, but there will be cracks. deep ones. i hope the picture is still discernible after all of this. so i can still see me in the mirror, and not the bullet holes where my compassion used to lie.