i smashed my wrist on a corner of the square-shaped bottle i’d bought for decoration six years ago and never thought to use for productive means at this exact minute, i used all my strength to slam my wrist down on this hard, glass, corner, again and again where i knew it would hurt most and prayed, “let me die,” three times, each syllable matching each strike. i didn’t catch the minute soon enough to use its full time. the bruises are still coming back anyway. and the angst does feel better. when i’m at work i feel better. but when i’m alone at home and get reminded of how fucked this family is and how much better adjusted he is, all i want to do is remove myself from everyone’s troubles. i need attention from him and comfort. i don’t want it from anyone else. i can’t get it from anyone else.
so, naturally, i’m watching the first season of american horror story to remind myself of a shitty, emotional time when i was even happier than this. somehow, this was 2011. in my mind, it’s still such a good escape that i could once relate to. the songs on the soundtrack are still so frequent on my playlists. i run to it when i’m lost and need to be somewhere that used to scare me. now it comforts me.
so i cleaned up the entire apartment when i got home from work.
and then at 9pm, he texts me, saying he won’t be home until around 3am and probably his friends, my old managers, will be staying the night, so make sure the place is totally clean.
now i’m definitely getting drunk.
fuck this. what the fuck do i have to do to get his attention now that it’s football season? i don’t want those guys here. i live here. i spend my time here with him. this is ours. i want it just us. and we sleep in separate rooms. i see so fucking little of him. i want him to myself those few hours a day we cross each others’ paths. but instead i’m vacuuming in the dark for his friends.
no sex tonight either, i suppose. why am i always the one trying?
*watches Jon Stewart’s comments on Ferguson* hey look it’s a white man getting heaps of credit and adulation for saying the exact same shit that black people have been saying for weeks now. how unexpected.
Didn’t want to be the one to say it….
….. do you want white people in influential media positions to ignore what you’re saying and act as though racism is nonexistent? or is it okay that a white person in an influential media position is passing on what you say so that the white people watching him can perhaps become more aware and support the right side of this important, ongoing social issue?
i have stopped using birth control because for six years, the several different types that i’ve tried have wrecked my face, fucked my periods over, made me as fat as i was in high school, which i worked really god damned hard to change. i know i don’t look that shitty, but my experience with my body image is disastrous and i’ve been banging my wrists to keep from cutting again, which i started the first time i became obsessed with losing weight.
useless anyway because while on the most recent birth control, we had a house guest for a month and didn’t even have sex a handful of times. now the guest is gone, but we still never fuck. several times over the last week, he has expressed interest and acknowledged that we’d need condoms in order to copulate. he tried suggesting i get back on a bc and after i explained how uncomfortable and unhappy it makes me, he acceded to my demands, acknowledged i have more to gripe over with bc than he does with condoms, and promised to pick some up. but the boy cannot remember to get them for the life of him and when he gets home at night he’s too lazy to go back out. i have left notes. i’ve told him to set reminders on his phone throughout the day. i remind him before he goes to sleep and in the morning when he leaves for work.
today was really frustrating because i got no sleep last night and had a very long day and had to deal with fucking beach traffic since it’s fucking memorial day or labor day or some stupid fucking useless holiday that clogs up my way home from work at the same time as making work slow as shit and fucking with my money. that shit pisses me off every year. and i haven’t been laid in a long time and i didn’t make as much money as i should have on a friday and i’m exhausted and fed up and still in a financially shit stained toilet bowl and i can’t drink anything but beer or wine because i can’t control myself and i can’t go out and i have no meaningful connections at my new job like i used to have at the old ones and my family life is disgusting and all these relatives want to talk to me about it and be there for me and i just don’t want to discuss that shit and i’m grossed out by the way i look. fuck this day.
fuck this entire summer, actually. i am 100% done with this year. i want the cold weather back and the good holidays. the moment i can afford it, i’m just going to start decorating this place for christmas. summer is empty. i’m tired of being hot. i want to be able to wear the other 85% of my wardrobe and cuddle with my boyfriend without him getting too warm because my body is apparently a space heater on overdrive and it’s uncomfortable. this shit sucks. i hate this apartment. i want to like my life again.
feel myself relapsing. this shit happening in my family has me about 85% worn down. normally i have to fight it once or twice a week. for the last few weeks it’s been everyday and now it’s on my mind all the time. my dear one has been so supportive and understanding and patient. i don’t know how to tell him that what i want more than anything in the world is the sound of a pill being crushed and the burn of it in my sinuses and the taste of the drip in my throat. everyone wants to talk to me about the upheaval of my family and i can’t respond to anyone and now i just don’t even read their messages because i can’t fucking bear to think about any of this. i want xanax and dilaudid and vicodin and percs and morphine and all the shit i rotated depending on availabiliy for years of my life. and i want to drink vodka every night until i can’t keep my eyes open like i used to. i want to underestimate the potency of the pills i put up my nose so much that my system rebels and tries to make me throw it up. my anxiety is bringing up my nervous ticks, cracking all the joints in my fingers compulsively and making them painful to move, feeling my skin crawl and imagining parasites in my body, not being able to sleep, feeling like everyone around me is watching me and that i’m not good enough, physically, emotionally, or mentally, to perform my job and be a girlfriend and daughter and sister and be alone at home after work without staring at the razor blades i put next to my bed and trying desperately to distract myself from the increasing urges to hurt myself. i think i’m just not cut out for my own life. i’m just a weak person.
i would just like to take a moment to bring to your attention the ultra talent possessed by this young man.
everybodys dad has a weird obsession with something
sex. he asked me for sex. he molested my big brother. he cheated on my mother with a smack whore and stole two grand from my little brother to finance her addiction and living expenses. thanks, you fuck.
i have so much to say about this shit happening in my family and no idea where to even start. the man formerly known as my adopted dad has lost his entire family. his two children from his first marriage haven’t been in stable contact with us for as long as i can remember. maybe once every two years i’d see them and i never understood why until now. that rat bastard has been having an affair with a heroine addicted prostitute for the better half of a year. For weeks, I was the only one who knew. Then he propositioned me for sex with him and another couple he found on craigslist. when my little brother found out by finding a prepaid cellphone in the man’s car and seeing him walk her out of our house one night. The next day, the bastard told my mother he wanted a divorce, but not why. Eventually she found out about the whore, so i told her about his sick suggestion to me. Now that’s out, i’ve learned that he molested my older brother and beat my older sister before either of them were even old enough to read. This week, I’ve gotten messages from several family members, including the older siblings, wanting to talk about this shit, letting me know they’re there, etc, that i don’t even have a relationship with. i don’t answer the phone when my mom or brother call because i’m terrified of what sick fucking history i’ll learn next. how could his first wife let my mother marry a monster like that? how could she not tell anyone what he was, especially since he’s a teacher of middle school children and had another son. people never change, not when the brain is diseased and rotted and twisted enough to make a man molest and beat his own children, bring a junkie whore into our house to shoot heroin in her veins in the room next to my little brother, betray and abandon my mother who suffers from fibromyalgia and numerous other sources of chronic pain as well as depression, and steal $2000 from my little brother who has been working over 60 hours a week since May. I’ve just started a new job and only have three months under my belt living without pills and a tendency to drink myself to sleep without meaning to and i simply cannot fucking handle this shit in my life. and all these relatives i haven’t even spoken to for years are trying to reach out to me and it just reminds me all the time that my childhood is mostly a blackout and i don’t know why and i lived for 21 years under the same roof as a child molester and abuser. this stain on my life disgusts me and i hate to see it and my family won’t let me forget. i want my brother to have his money paid back, warn his employers of his history of child abuse, and then set his car on fire with him inside it. i cannot sleep, my skin crawls, and i’m disgusted with the truth. all i want is to fucking escape. there will come a time when i won’t be able to live in this state without killing that man. i just want to forget.
My response to the #ALSIceBucketChallenge - thank you Alecia Scott for the nomination! I nominate every person that watches this video to donate their…
Melanie Price, everyone. This beautiful lady expresses everything I have felt about this absurd ice bucket challenge sweeping the nation. This incredibly intelligent sun goddess of beauty, compassion, and benevolence tells you exactly what you can do when one of your friends nominates you for this challenge and goes a step further. I had the honor of working with her at Aqua Sol about a year ago and now she’s moved to California and worked on the sets of some hugely successful tv series. You should all know who she is and keep an eye out for this wonderfully talented future star.
Closed captioning and other consideration provided by Mescaline Airlines: It’s the only way to fly!
im at a hotel and the people in the room next to my room started having sex and i timed it and he only lasted for 54 seconds and i think they can hear me laughing now
UPDATE: they just banged on the wall and it only made me laugh harder because dude you can bang a wall but not your girlfriend
"The goal was to find a way to get into the head of a child,” - Stephen Frankfurt, title designer