I hate insomnia, I really do.
You’d think that I’d get used to it, since I’ve had it my entire life, but no, it never gets any easier.
But what I hate having, infinitely more than insomnia… Are feelings.
Fuck feelings, they are assholes.
They’re just running around like a thousand little fuckweasels ruining lives and days. I swear on everything that’s holy if I ever catch one I’m grinding it into the sole of my shoe.
I’m really mad at myself.
I took my heart out of its little box, where it was completely safe and sound, and I pinned it right to my sleeve, like a huge dumbass.
Then what happened?
It got poked. And not poked in a good way.
So while my heart was out running around like it had just escaped Alcatraz, it grew… Or it simply got fat, but for the sake of my ego, I’ll say grew.
Now, no matter how hard I try I can’t stuff it back into it’s box.
Fucking awesome.
I have no choice now but to let it roam free, out there in the big ugly world getting poked, prodded, kicked, stepped on and getting gum stuck to it’s little heart shoes.
Each time it suffers an insult I get this hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, tears well up behind my eyes and I find myself swallowing hard, mumbling about the allergies in the Ohio Valley, and biting the inside of my jaw to replace the pain.
Tag Archive: depression
Not a keeper.
That’s who I am.
I should really be used to it by now.
I’m not.
Want a girl to have a good time with? Want a girl who can hold her own at the bar? Want a girl that isn’t afraid to do something totally crazy? Want a girl to have a few weeks of crazy sex with??
I’m the girl for all of that.
Want a girl to be your girlfriend? Want a girl to take home and meet your mother?
I’m apparently not the girl for that.
I hope you’ll forgive me for all of the whining I’m doing here… I do have friends, believe it or not.
But, I’m a suicide survivor, and they get all freaked when they think I’m down. I don’t want to freak them out.
I need to vent.
“You’re not picking the right guys” is what I hear. How in the fuck do you know who is the right guy? Where in the fuck is he hiding? Is it just not in the cards for me?
I hate all of these feelings of inadequacy… not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not successful enough… where does it end? When will I ever feel good enough?
I don’t see it happening any time soon….
But, hey, I’m not lying in the bathtub with a blade to my wrists, so I’m not doing too bad.
Me to a work friend: “Did you have fun on your day off?”
Friend: “You mean at my grandma’s funeral?”
Yes, I am that girl.
So… last night I had another particularly bad night, tears, self-pity, self-loathing and all around patheticness.
Before my Benadryl kicked in, I asked the universe to show me a sign, a sign that I won’t be alone forever, that I don’t suck.
This morning when I wake up, I have a friend request on Facebook, from a cute guy. I think “what the hell” and I accept it.
He messaged me and told me that he had seen a comment that I made on our city news page and he thought I was cute :-). We’ve been chatting all morning…
I even told him about my request to the universe, he thought that it was cool.
Who knows what will happen, but maybe the universe was listening and was sick of my blathering.
I’m still waiting for the black fog to lift… I am still, however, going through the motions of my life… all day today, the only thought in my mind is that I can go straight to bed after work. I do not feel compelled to slash my wrists, so it could definitely be worse.
I’m not really a slug, honestly I’m not. I did go to Yellow Springs with God yesterday and we photographed the sunflowers and had a good time, I’m not sure I feel quite as creative as usual… but I’m out there.
I have a couple of potential dates on the horizon, but I refuse to get my hopes up, I’m just not doing it.
Today I am thinking about pet names. I call people “darlin'”, lots of people, just not people that are fuckweasels. It’s the southern belle that resides deep within me I guess… I don’t mind pet names, I’d actually kind of like one if I was in a relationship. I will admit sometimes I’ll call someone darlin’ when I’ve forgotten their name, but I have short term memory issues, so it’s totally okay.
I once got a barrage of messages on POF from this man who owned a funeral home. Now don’t get me wrong, I have no issues with that profession. Actually, if I could afford to go back to school, I’d study mortuary science. I know that I could do it, I’ve performed post-mortem care on many patients in my career, and surprisingly, I’m good with people.
But, I digress…
Funeral Home Guy (FHG) looked like he owned a funeral home. But, again, I don’t have a type and that would not have bothered me.
What DID bother me, was that in EVERY email that he sent me he addressed me as “Precious”. Yep, you heard that right. All I could think of was the little dog in Silence of the Lambs… then my mind went to “it rubs the lotion on the skin, or else it gets the hose again”. That’s when FHG creeped me the fuck out.
The emails didn’t stop, and neither did my imagination. I’m okay with being submissive, but I’m not sure I’d be ok with being submissive in a coffin, and would he pack me in ice before we fornicated???
He also had younger children, who I imagined had lazy eyes, limps and an excessive number of fingers… and possibly licked the dead bodies after they were embalmed.
FHG eventually gave up.
I wonder if he ever met anyone? Probably, and I’m still alone…
Here’s what I do to occupy myself on the weekends: http://reflectionsuponmyreality2.wordpress.com/2013/09/23/the-porny-house/.
One of my shots from yesterday… might be my favorite.
So Friday evening I shot a wedding, I was the photographer and the witness. The only people present were me, Boom (the officiate) and the couple. NO ONE knew they were getting married. The ceremony took place in the pouring rain in the gazebo at Mirror Lake in Eden Park… It was a little romantical.
After the ceremony Boom and I wondered whose parents had issue with the wedding… perhaps we will never know.
I went home Friday night, went to bed and I stayed there until Sunday morning. I wouldn’t have gotten up then if it weren’t for my Dad’s birthday and our zip lining plans.
I told everyone it was my allergies.
It wasn’t.
I was in one of those dark holes that is so fucking hard to climb out of… every time I fall into one I wonder “Will this be the time that I’m not able to climb out?”
I, physically, climbed out Sunday morning, I even took the camera and got some shots before meeting my parents. I couldn’t let them down, I’ve hurt them so much already in this life…
Yea, I suck. They’re good parents, I’m just a shitty daughter… they really should have had more than one kid.
Today, there is still a black fog over everything, but I’m going with God to Yellow Springs this afternoon to photograph sunflowers… I think that sunflowers have some positive effect on people who are residing in a black hole, we shall see…
I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised that no one wants to keep me, right??
Reflections Upon My Skin 