you about growing old, what would it be? Losing people. Losing my wonderful mom and my intelligent father. Losing my sisters or my significant other. My pets, even. I don’t want to lose them.
I tend to only blog when I’m sad, it’s true. And guess what!? I’m happy. Or at least exceptionally content with where I’m at. I suppose I’m going to choose to be ignorant and oblivious to my normal, awful/anxious feelings. This feels better, regardless. I hope this lasts.
or presentation you’ve ever heard, what would it be? My sister wrote a beautiful letter to my nephew when she was still pregnant. It’s my favorite.
I’m anxious, so fucking anxious. This anxiety never fucking leaves. It might lay dormant for a period of time in which I feel good and happy. But then it fucking creeps out of nowhere and consumes my every thought. My only escape is to sleep and when I can’t do that, I’m miserable. I have an addiction; I am completely dependent on others, preferably males. When will this fucking go away. When will this shit stop. Seriously, I’m so sick. It’s a cycle that never ends and I cannot stop it. I’m so weak, so powerless over this. God, help me. I think I’m going crazy. There’s no cure for this, so what am I to look forward to. I pray no one ever has to go through this fucking pain. I pray no one acts as I have. I want to help others so bad, but how can I do that when I can’t even help myself. I give advice, but I never follow it. It’s so much easier said than done. Fuck. I’ve hit a new low. When the hell will I bounce back. I’m lost, please find me.
live musical performance you have ever attended, which would you pick? This one is a little rough, but Ben Folds immediately comes to mind. I’ve seen him five times and I think I preferred his performance in Louisville with an Orchestra. It was terrific. Other notable shows I’ve been to include Death Cab For Cutie, Modest Mouse, Blink 182, and SOJA/Matisyahu. I cannot wait to continue attending musical performances throughout my life and experiencing my favorite music up close and personal.
Where the hell am I? For the most part, I’m happy. But when I spend too much time at home, awake, I get restless as hell. I’d rather spend my time awake at other people’s houses or the zoo or the park, etc. I even prefer sleeping somewhere else, on occasion. I mean, sure, my bed is my very favorite place to sleep, but I love to get out. I’m thankful I’ve been finding things to do lately. I started an art class, which I’m really happy about. I think one of my largest pet peeves, that I feel I realized most just this summer, is when people don’t get back to you. I hate waiting, and it’s not because I’m impatient. I just wish that people would stick to what they say or at least give me a legitimate reason for keeping me waiting/canceling. Bah. I need something steady, something real, something good. I hope I found it, but only time will tell. Time keeps too many fucking secrets.
from your family’s history, what would you want to see? Today, I went to a, sort of, mini-museum that focused on AIDS in Africa. I was amazed by the story of one little girl, who lost her father to AIDS; her mother was HIV positive, as was she. Over one million people in Africa are HIV positive. What an astonishing number. What a horrific number. I want to witness my great grandfather doing mission work in Africa. I know it sounds like I’m just feeling for these people today, because I saw their lives up close, and tomorrow I will be back to thinking about my plans for the day, etc. But I believe I will never forget that others are definitely struggling. My great grandfather was a wonderful man; he was always giving. My mom told me today that he used to find and sell old scrap metal and give the money to a school in Africa. The school was later named after him. No one knew he did this until after he died. I want to see him build the church he built in Africa. I want to watch him put smiles on the faces of many and to interact with those less fortunate than him. I want to know my great grandfather more than I do. He was truly a beautiful man.
I wonder if I’ll ever “fit in” or if I’ll be forever a loner. I don’t mind being alone on occasion, but all the time: no thanks. I feel consistently isolated from what’s considered normal. But I tried this “normal” event tonight and I’m pretty sure I’m content with being not so normal. Why do people have to consume mind-altering chemicals just to feel normal. Maybe I’m super obscure, but if being normal is getting fucked up every other night, I’ve never been more happy to be different. I would rather pass out from being tired, not because I got “TOTALLY WASTED, MAN”; I’d rather have an emotional high than smoke or drop pills any day. I cannot wait until being clean is “cool”. Maybe I could stand more people that way.
that gives you the most comfort, what would you say? Hands down, my family. I suppose they’re not really a “thing”, but they, by far, give my the most comfort. I could be stripped of everything I own and as long as my family was around, I’d be content. I might not see it at first, but my family is all I need. They are truly the greatest support system I could have ever asked for. I owe them everything.
I’ve had a few really good days this week. I was able to go visit some friends where I used to live. It was nice and my opinions on some people changed, which, in this case, was very good. I had a wonderful day today; I got together with some old friends and I was reminded that being clean and happy is worth every painstaking moment to get there. I’m blessed to be surrounded by the people I am. I tend to find it ironic that I get as depressed as I do. Why should my mood depend solely on one person? My mood should depend on myself and how I choose to live. I really hope to find myself soon, as my unknown half is becoming anxious. Far too often, I catch myself wanting to give up, throw my hands in the air and surrender. I know I need to keep fighting, but sometimes the easier way out is FAR more appealing. Thankfully, I always, usually unconsciously, end up fighting even harder and becoming stronger as a result. Thank God for my will to carry on and fight.
the best album cover ever, which would it be? It’s times like this that I wish I had an excellent variety of music that I cared for. Sadly, I usually stick to the same old music I’ve been listening to for years. I had to think of some great art on albums that I’ve seen before and Of Montreal distinctly came to mind after a few minutes. I choose the cover of Aldhils Arboretum. It’s beautiful.
I was doing really well for a few days there. Now I’m anxious and nervous as hell again. I put myself into these situations in which I become very vulnerable; I see potential and I dive in without checking the depths of the matter. I’ll admit, I was cautious at first, but what happened? I’ve looked into a few diseases tonight. Mostly terminal, actually. I have a friend who, I believe, is very sick. How can I be there for him, brave and supportive, when I’m afraid as hell. I definitely will not leave his side, but I pray that God will give me the right words to help him through specific situations that I’m afraid he’ll come across. Why did God configure this world to have so many rough times? I understand that we, as people, write our own endings, but why are such shitty emotions ever allowed? I wish I was more accepting of God’s ways, but for now, I’m going to have to live with what he puts on my plate.
anyone for a day, who would you pick and what would you have them do? Obama. Fix this mess.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so on edge. I’m not doing well. I’m ready to burst into a million little pieces. I’m not even sure I did anything wrong this time and I’m back to the fucking same place. Miserable and alone, yet again. At work, I’m surrounded by people and my mind is momentarily off this shit. But the second I get into my car, my eyes are unveiled and it’s back to this awful reality. I feel like I’m trying to reach a light switch (happiness) by stacking things on top of another; I start with a table (my family and one or two friends in particular): a strong support system that’s been aged and beaten over the years. I stack some books (my faith): they’re wobbly and not often thought of to climb on, but I love them regardless and they’re full of everything that makes this Earth what it is. I add some cardboard boxes (my social life and work): they seem like a good idea at the time, but really, they’re completely empty and unreliable. I begin my climb to the top and think I’m finally going to make it. I slip and fall far too hard onto the cement (my diseases, my anger, my self doubt). I stay lying in a feudal position for hours until I realize the darkness and I begin to run. I’ll run away from the table and books and boxes. Away from the light I know I need to reach. It’s so fucked up that I run, but I don’t want to open up to anything. I’d rather keep everything inside and hidden than be open with anyone. It’s to the point that when I’m in the car, I consider not paying attention to what I’m doing. I consider not having all of this on my shoulders any longer. I mean, this is ridiculous. I would never do anything to hurt myself intentionally; my family means far too much to me and I could never tear them apart like that. But what the hell am I supposed to do? I want to move down South and start over, but how? I mean, what is starting over anyways. You’re still bringing your past, right? You can never run too far without everything catching up to you. I just wish I could bury it all.