abstract lies
02.20.08 (6:42 am) [edit]To think, sometimes, that so many things have happened in my life
and yet, they really haven't
I've been sheltered, self-contained, closed off from the world
Sifting through the fragments of my memories makes me mourn for all of the yesterdays that will never be tomorrows
It's tough to smile about them when you know that they just make you sad
I like to try and think that at some point, I'll stop idealizing the past, and remember the bad
But I can't seem to do it, not right now, not often, maybe not ever
You can't get to the bottom of the barrel when the world keeps throwing more into the barrel
Burying what you've been trying to reach down at the bottom
You just can't get through the whole barrel, especially when you're using your bare hands
And it's all wet and slimy inside
And it smells rancid
And your hands are raw
And your fingers are bleeding
And yet you keep digging down deep
I often cry
And scream, "It's Not Fair"
Knowing inside, that it's not meant to be
It hurts
The pain
inside and
out
Was it real or just a fantasy?
06.17.07 (1:25 pm) [edit]I met them. My Chemical Romance---minus Mikey, who was off on his honeymoon. I can't remember. I can't remember much of it. I earned a Meet and Greet...and I can't remember. What would have been one of THE GREATEST moments of my life, one that I would cherish forever...and it's not really there. I have the proof. I don't have the memories. I do remember one thing though...and it's kind of sad... I remember feeling as though they were a group of small, scared, little boys that I wanted to scoop up into my arms and hug tightly, and tell them that everything would be alright...Not to sound offensive, but that "motherly" thing takes me over sometimes and I hate that I had to see them that way... I want to remember. I WANT to remember it forever.
Update number 2
03.14.07 (6:24 pm) [edit]As I do not have as much time as I'd like, as usual, I wanted to get on quick and firstly, THANK all of you SO VERY much for the wishes and thoughts and kindness!!! I've passed along everyone's posts and they are GREATLY appreciated! Thank you all again!!!
Secondly, I need to quickly update you on what's going on...
MRI did show multiple new lesions and a Solu-Medrol TX is scheduled for 3 days next week...hopefully it will do him a little good.
Update on Cutter...
03.12.07 (6:47 pm) [edit]Wrote an entry, and it was eaten.
Update:
Cutter's eyesight is almost blind-gone now...very hard to see ANYTHING.
MRI tomorrow night, Neurodude to call Wednesday to tell us whether or not he will set up an Outpatient Course of Solu-Medrol...
Please send your most positives his way, if you can.
I'm REALLY not okay
03.11.07 (7:57 pm) [edit]And the ones that I love the dearest are NOT okay either.
There are only so many tears that can be shed.
There are only so many "I'm SO sorry"s that they can hear.
There are only so many times you can try and listen and not show them how scared you are for them.
Breaks my heart that their hearts are breaking.
That things, some people, the universe, continues to fail them.
If only...if only I had the power.
If only I had the ability.
If only things could get better...
Please, please, I send these pleas out to the universe and hope not for an echo back, but for some help, some hope...
paint it black...
02.14.07 (7:17 am) [edit]For the LIFE of me,
I will NEVER understand
Why people are SO
completely
FUCKED up.
A drink For the Horror that I'm in
12.02.06 (5:32 am) [edit]No rest for the wicked. No sleep for me. No food. No calm. Not about me, about my son...about life in my world. About the unfairness and horror that encompasses daily life.
My son was not supposed to be in Technology *Wood shop*, but they put him in there and he mentioned once or twice that he was making a project and that he would like some ear plugs because the machines hurt his ears...
My son made a candle holder-a kitty cat head-out of wood, just the outline, and three holes bored into it for the eyes and nose *that's where the candles were supposed to go*. It was the Class project. He had a lot of help, but was proud to have made something and to come home and give it to me. He made me something.
Should have been a happy time, right?
Think again.
Welcome to the world of Autism, PDD, Special Needs. Welcome to the world where you have no rights, where you are the "fool" to all, where you can be abused by others and not know how to stick up for yourself. To not feel safe to tell the teachers what goes on. To suffer through the torture and torment of your peers. Trying to ignore the pain, only to constantly be hurt.
The students in the Class thought it would be a fun thing to do by taking my son's project from him. They thought it would be funnier to throw it around from one to another while he chased for it and jumped for it. They blocked the aisles so that he could not get by, they told him he had to hug someone to get it back. They tripped him, pushed him, laughing...laughing. They threw it to the floor and kicked it around and stomped on it. My son kept saying, "Excuse me please, can I have my project back?" running around, trying his hardest to get it back. Teacher was helping another student in the Shop.
Bell rings, class is over. Someone gives my son his project back. They all start up the stairs to their other classes.
Someone takes it back from my son and throws it or kicks it down the stairs and goes to get it back.
He told his Teacher, she e-mailed the Vice Principal and wrote me a note. I got a call from my family to tell me of this, everyone crying, my son, my sister and mother...all of them, he was crying because they "ruined" his project for me. He was crying because they hurt him and hit him in the head. My mother and sister were crying because he hurt. Because people are horrid.
I called the school, the VP told me that he would look into it, I did not let my son go to school for the next two days. The first "investigation" found that there were 3 boys involved and 1 girl, she cried and the boys got detentions. After I went into the school to talk with the Principal, I told him about how my son was assaulted. Next day I get a call telling me that the 3 boys admitted to pushing my son and they were suspended for 3 days.
My son does not want to go back to school. My son hates school. There are many reasons for this. He feels a lot better about what happened, I thank the gods and stars above that he does. He understands that I love his project and when I told him that I had wood paints, and he could paint it if he wanted to, he was overjoyed. We talked about the kids and what happened and spoke frankly with one another. He felt better about that...I hope that he'll be alright.
I am petrified that when these kids come back to school that he will get it twice as bad, or that something even worse will happen to my son if I let him go back to school.
He should be in a Special School anyway. The school feels as though they are doing a marvelous job in teaching my son. I do not feel the same way. My son is going to be 15 at the end of the month and is in the 8th grade. He has the skills of *maybe* a 4th grader. They will not pay for him to go someplace else. I am in the lower income bracket, I cannot afford to get him to another school. I can't afford an advocate. I can't afford anything.
I don't know what to do, I don't know what to expect. I don't know where to go from here. I am scared. I hurt. I am tired. I can't sleep. Can't eat. Can't think straight.
School insists he will be fine coming back on Monday, they "won't let anything happen to him", they'll make sure of it.
I don't know what to do.
I really don't.
My son is good natured, good hearted, and wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it...he's a love, he's friendly and outgoing...and this is what he gets?!?!?!?
thank you world...thank you society...thank you uncaring parents...thank you mr. bush...thank you media...thank you ignorant children...thank you world, for fucking his life up and making it much worse than it already is.
Know what? I'm tired of it, tired of it all, tired...so damn tired.
Mama we're all full of lies
11.23.06 (1:54 pm) [edit]
Where to begin?
Where to end.
Reality.
What is it? Is it the place where I will go to feel pain, to feel helpless, to feel horrible every waking moment?
Is the place that I "escape" to so bad? Is it a place that I do not belong? At least there, I am able to let go of some of the pain, feel a little bit empowered, and I don't feel horrible.
Where is the line?
This line I speak of is the line where the two places blend. Where the transition from one to the other isn't a shock, a punch in the face, devastation.
I can't find it. I can't make sense of it. I have always gone to "my own little world", the one inside of my head, the one that I've made up, when things were "bad" for me, or those around me. That place is a place that sometimes gets tainted with "reality". When that happens, it's not okay...I become even less okay.
What do you do about the reality that has been continuing on around you while you were "away", in that "safe place"? Where do you begin to fix things? Perhaps the first step is to not go to that "safe place" as often, and work on fixing the things that are going on around you that hurt you. I do not know how to do that. I am lazy, if you will, I would rather sit in one spot, where at least I know what I live with every day, than to even try to change things. The thoughts of changing anything feels paralyzing.
The grass isn't always greener.
I do not know moderation.
I am sinking in the quicksand.
Do something?
I can't. or I won't. The more you try and make me, the more resistant I will be, but that is not the case across the board.
Many a days I don't feel as though I make any sense. I don't understand why I do what I do or why I am the way that I am. And of course, I gauge myself against everyone else, or who I perceive everyone else to be, which is not me.
This whole preamble is pointless if I never get to why I really wanted to write anything at all.
Happy what?
Today is supposed to be special? To whom?
What has happened to me-Trips down memory lane, reality sinking in that I do not have the family I once had. The family that I thought I once had was one I created in my own head with the characters that were related to me. Some of those characters have died.
All I can seem to think about are those who have passed, this is something that I tend to do around Halloween...only this year, Halloween was not what it used to be for me. Not in any way, shape, or form. None of the holidays are, and I guess I'm freaking out because the reality of everything is hitting me. Knocking me over, bruising me, picking scabs...making me bleed.
Why is it that the characters that are in my scenes aren't the way that they are in real life? Why can't they be caring and loving and understanding and non-judgmental. Why can't some characters slide into other roles that I've created, and be accepted? Because I have to start over, I have to take new characters and create a whole new play. I have to make a new one. I am petrefied to do so.
My first instinct, retreat. Hide. Burrow down deep. Go back to my "safe place", but this time, reality has trickled in and tainted my "safe place". I can't have the same little delusions that I used to have, when the characters are never again going to be in the scenes that I've created for them, their roles are extinct.
What is family? Is it just a biological bond between people? Is it a group of people that really love and care for one another? Is it a concept that we've been forced to accept due to Society and the Media? Does it exist? When my lines blur, this is what happens to me.
I have no idea what I'm trying to prove. I have no idea what it is that I think that I am doing. I have no idea why things are the way that they are.
I can stand here and SCREAM as long and as loud as I want that things aren't fair, all I am going to be is hoarse...for my words fall on deaf ears.
Who really cares?
I'm out there, yeah, way the fuck out there...welcome to my world.
Never Trade it for anything...
09.29.06 (9:49 am) [edit]Yesterday, for the very first time,
My son had a friend over.
The laughter was priceless.
Their happiness made my heart swell.
My son will be fifteen in December, he has a form of Autism.
This was a HUGE benchmark.
I cried, for many reasons, I cried.
And If The Sun Comes Up Will It Tear The Flesh Right Off Our Bones
09.26.06 (4:20 am) [edit]I'm waiting, I guess for the sun to come up.
When that happens, I will need to bring my son to school.
When I get back, I will need to sleep, I figure that by then, I will be tired.
If I'm not, then I'll be one miserable bitch at the oh so lovely School Meeting at 2:45.
We're supposed to go over his 3 Year Testing and Evaluations and make a new IEP for this year.
New people to work with, woohoo. New people that I'm already hostile towards.
I threw myself into a full blown panic attack last night, or hours ago, or whatever at this point. All because I was getting overwhelmed and the Meeting took Center Stage. I have to get angry enough to stand my ground and demand what is only what my son should have. Things that they won't give to him.
While I was attempting to calm down and breathe again, I realized that there was no way in hell that I would be able to sleep. I kind of just needed a few hours to stop crying, start breathing "normally", and wipe my snotty face.
I even actually got a bit constructive...
I found his previous Test results and Evaluations, organized them, clipped them together and put them in folders to bring with me to the Meeting.
I put some laundry away and hung things up in the closet.
Moved some things around in my room.
I made brownies, which I have no desire to eat.
I made banana bread, from scratch, which I've never even done before. *Betty Crocker and Pillsbury quick breads are my friends*
I'm even almost done with my next batch of laundry...should be dry soon.
Then why do I feel so much like shit?
Who knows, maybe because I have a zillion other things pressing my pea brain into a pile of pea soup. *ICK*
Sounds about right.
So, when the sun comes up...will it tear my flesh right off my bones? I don't know. Sometimes I think that it will, but I sure do know that it burns the hell out of my damn sensitive eyes :\
I Fall Out Of Grace
09.25.06 (5:54 pm) [edit]Pretty sad when you sit
and try to evaluate
what you're actually good at
and all you can
come up with is
Crying.
And Time Marches On...like it or not.
09.24.06 (8:01 pm) [edit]Each year, on my birthday, I feel sick.
Physically, Emotionally, Totally Sick.
This year, for some odd reason, it wasn't so bad. In fact, I actually had a good day. I was in a good mood. I even asked to have my picture taken with my family members. If you knew me, you'd know how much of a HUGE deal that is. To top it off, my sister gave me 2 tickets to see Journey and Def Leppard.
Wow.
It blew my head open, and I hate to say it, I immediately started thinking of reasons why I didn't want to or couldn't go.
Why?
Because I have a hard time accepting that time has passed. These tickets meant having to face that fact. These tickets meant I would be transported back in time to when I was just "starting off" with a "life".
The first BAND that I latched onto was Def Leppard, when they came out with Hysteria...not just, "Oh, I like this song" kind of band, or, "Wow, I like these guys" kind of band...I LOVED them. I had a "shrine-wall" dedicated to them, banners, fliers, albums, cassettes, pins, bandannas, magazine articles and photographs plastered all over the place. I wore their t-shirts all the time to school, and of course, fell in love with Rick Allen, the drummer.
I was probably obsessed with them. They were the first band that, as a teen, I covered myself in. I even remembered hearing their songs when I was younger *the ones that were hits on the radio before Rick's accident*. I got to see them in concert quite a few times for that tour, and couldn't have been happier *okay, if I got to meet them in person I would have been*.
When I "jumped", I "JUMPED" to Guns N' Roses, they helped me deal with my aggression, my thoughts, my feelings more so than Def Leppard, at least at the time it felt that way. Axl was someone that I could always identify with, even if I never "knew" him. Alright, so I could identify with the persona that the media portrayed Axl to be.
I started liking other bands, Metallica *I thought they could read my mind*, "Hair Bands" galore, Anthrax, Primus...I could go on forever. I don't think that I ever obsessively focused on a band as I did that very first time. Oh, I do obsess, even now, but not the way I did when I was a young teen. For a long, long time now, I've been in some sort of denial. Almost as if there was nothing before Guns N' Roses and nothing after My Chemical Romance.
These tickets were the realization of things I didn't want to remember.
I hadn't been feeling well, people in my house were sick with one form of a cold or another and I had ear infections. I thought I would have the perfect "out". I convinced myself that I couldn't go because I was sick, I had no money, I was afraid of the crowds. I knew full and well that I wouldn't have to pay for anything, my sister took care of that as my gift. I knew that if I took a few Klonapin, I might be able to manage the panic from the crowds. I knew that if I had something to drink, it would relax me even a bit more. I knew that if I took some Ibuprofen and brought earplugs with me, my ears wouldn't be much of a problem. I had myself convinced though that I was not going to go.
I called her yesterday morning to tell her that I was going to go.
I went last night.
I had a FRIGGIN' AWESOME time!!! But, I cried. I cried not just for the sentimental values of the songs, not just because we've all aged, not just because I missed Steve Clark and was sad that he had died...but because all of it put together nearly killed me. Memories+Passing Time+Sadness=Emotional Snap.
It was a bittersweet event.
I am crying as I sit here typing this. It was awesome...but so very sad.
I know that it will take me quite some time to recover from the show.
I never thought it possible for me to ever go to another concert again. It had been about 9 years since I went to one, and I was sure that I'd die from my nerves and phobias. I made it through.
I didn't "forget my past" so to speak. It was just a hard Journey to make.
Maybe it will be possible to make it to 2 more before I die.
Guns N' Roses again
and My Chemical Romance.
Guns N' Roses represents the power that I felt they gave me.
My Chemical Romance represents the power that I feel they give me.
These two bands and everything in between will make me smile, laugh, cry, slam, scream, think, dream, and live, forever.
Somewhere over the rainbow...
09.24.06 (2:38 pm) [edit]Sure, I can live in my "own little world" as much and as often as I'd like, over the rainbow, in another place, in my own mind, wherever, whatever.
Sad things happen, bad things happen, sorrow, guilt, pain, tears. What can you do? Where can you hide?
The fact that my cat, Mr.Peanut, or Peanut for short, was about 20 years old was a very well known fact, a solid piece of reality in my life. The fact that it meant that he would die, well, that was not something I liked to deal with, death in general actually, is something that I try to ignore.
I tend to ignore a lot in my life. Somehow, in my head, if I do not think about it, it will go away. I've learned many times that it doesn't, and I end up worse off for not dealing with it when I should have. It still doesn't make me "face the music". A flaw, one that I am not proud of.
Mr.Peanut was not doing well, he in fact, was dying. How Mr.Peanut came to be...
"The Rescue"
Peanut was brought home from Maine, when my aunt's neighbors moved and abandoned him. We bonded the second I got out of the car and I snuck food from my aunt's house and fed him and begged my mother to let us take him home. She finally agreed, I think it was mostly because my aunt said that they shoot abandoned animals, and that hit a nerve with my mother. When my aunt moved to Maine, her cat, Blondie had a litter of kittens, Peanut was from that litter, so the age was pretty close at him being about 20.
He was an "outside" cat, he liked to play the Great Wild Hunter and drink water from puddles rather than the fresh water planted all over the house and outside specifically for him and other animals. I was told that he was a wonderful hunter when in Maine, I guessed that he was just "over it" the last few years when I'd dangle mice or other things in front of him and he'd just look the other way.
In reality, he was the epitomy of CAT. All of the stereotypes you can think of, all the scientific facts that are known = Peanut.
He was loved and he was, indeed, always part of the family.
"His Passing"
I think that I was "interrupting" the process, I would find him when he would hide and try to cover him up and pet him and talk with him, and all the while, while he was in the process of dying, he'd purr. He would hide, I would find him. I kept insisting that he did not want to die alone, even though I "know" that animals do not think like we do on a lot of things. I wanted him to know that he'd be alright when he passed.
He wanted badly to go outside onto the swing where he spent a great deal of his life, I finally gave in, checking on him constantly, trying to make sure that he was "safe" from other animals. At four o'clock on Wednesday, I went to check on him, I don't know why, I had checked on him about a half an hour before that. He was taking his last breaths.
Memories of my father and him taking his last breaths washed over me, nearly knocking me over. I do not care what people say, be it a human or an animal, if I love, I love, and it still hurts in many ways.
I picked him up and wrapped him in a warm towel, called my sister out, I held him close and we watched the life go out of him. The wind was blowing. I like to think that the wind took his spirit.
He had a "coffin", we had a "funeral" and he was burried in the backyard.
He was my little fighter. I will miss him terribly.
R.I.P my dear friend
I Never Thought They'd Get Me Here...
08.09.06 (8:22 pm) [edit]Long day.
Emotions Running WAY too high.
Overloaded.
Overwhelmed.
Over it?
This is only the beginning.
Might it be the beginning of the end?
Stay tuned.
I think, perhaps, that I finally got my mother to actually HEAR me. Even if it was just once...it is a start.
A late start, but I hope she really is hearing me.
Could be a good thing.
By The Choices That I Make...
08.09.06 (2:38 am) [edit]I know that the time has come for me to REALLY start thinking about the next leg of my journey.
It is not that I do not love my family. I do a GREAT deal.
It is not that I do not care for my family. I do TREMENDOUSLY.
When a ship is sinking, you don't invite others onto the boat to go down with you.
My sister *the new owner of the house* and her fiancé re-invited my other sister *who is going through a divorce* and my two nephews *4 and 1/2 and 9 months* to come and live here. So that she can get on her feet, not be alone and be able to transition to her "new life" better. Oh, and to get some extra money to pay for the bills that they already don't have the money to pay.
I can't do this any more.
I can't keep going this way.
I know that I'm in pain and hurting and need to save my son and myself. I want to save my mother too, if she wants to be saved. I say "save" because I understand the extra stressors that will come along with three new people living in this house. I understand that things just keep getting worse here in the first place, let alone adding others to the mix. Save means live, survive, get healthier, have less stress...
I will have to seriously talk with my mother as to whether or not she wants to get out of here with me. Just spoke with her, for about an hour, she's overwhelmed, I'm overwhelmed. I am looking at this as self-preservation. I'm not asking for an immediate decision. I do know that after a year of living like this and things continuing to get worse, it isn't going to get better.
I will have to seriously talk with my uncle *who scares the piss out of me* and see if he still has an apartment for either 3 or 2. The three would be the triangle-my mother, my son, and myself. The two would be the circle-my son and myself. That is, if she can't bear to leave the house she grew up in and lived in and was passed down for generations.
I could swing the rent he says he charges, but utilities are a MUCH different story. We would not have cable, I don't know how we'd get electricity, I have a cell phone, so I wouldn't need that. No internet. Not much to eat. Is it really healthier?
You see, I have to find a way to come up with some money to file Bankruptcy first. If that is even possible any more. I have to go to court in October because I am being sued. There's always a first time for everything.
Sure, I applied for credit cards years ago, sure I used them. Sure I was disabled at the time and I thought that I could still swing the payments on the cards. Sure I was manic at the time when I applied and charged and owed. Sure I spent the "money" on groceries and prescriptions and gifts for family members and even bought myself a few things. I admit to that. I know that I owe the money. I can't even buy my groceries lately, my mother has been footing the bill for that. Where will I ever get the money to pay all of these companies back? I don't have it. I don't have ANY money. Bills are paid, groceries are being paid for, at least for now...going to hell in a hand basket, no, wait, I'm already there.
And I've tried to "hide" for years now, but they always find me. Especially the Student Loan people...we won't EVEN go there.
So here I sit, tired, emotionally drained, burning hole in my stomach, still thinking.
Still hoping that things will work out in some way, that people won't take what I feel I have to do as personal attacks. That they won't feel as though I don't love them. That they won't feel like I don't care.
I do SO much that I have to step outside of it all in order to feel better to want to help others, not have things forced on me.
I'm going to bed now, hoping for some sleep, need to babysit again tomorrow. No rest for the wicked my friends...
And I will be seen as a very wicked fiend.
And Someone Save My Soul Tonight...
08.08.06 (2:19 pm) [edit]hypochondriac:
n : a patient with imaginary symptoms and ailments
So, good news, my CT and X-Ray of the abdomen came back negative!
That means that I'm just constantly getting reassured that I'm an insane hypochondriac.
Huzzah for me.
Damn, I just KNEW that my imagination would come in handy someday...
Thanks doc, maybe my high cholesterol and high platelet count *the only things I haven't ever complained about* will give me a big 'ol stroke or heart attack...
It still isn't going to tell me what the hell is wrong with everything else I suffer from...but wait, all the tests come back negative...so I guess it's just me.
When I just disappear, will you remember me?
As Snow Falls On Desert Sky Until The End...
08.08.06 (11:09 am) [edit]Through the Looking Glass...
I force myself out of bed.
I force myself to do my "morning things".
I force myself to enjoy my Crossword and Coffee-time.
I force myself to keep my mouth shut, when the world is coming down all around me, and also literally-the ceiling in the kitchen fell on us last week.
I force myself to feel happy for the sake of others.
It takes so much energy. Energy that I do not have.
I FEEL too much, I'm not able to "shut down" what I "pick up" or to distinguish the difference between what is "mine" and what is coming from someone else.
I think that some of the biggest emotions that I feel are hurt, pain, sadness, to an intense degree.
To a degree so immense that it overwhelms me and I drown within myself.
Due to my fear of being "out on my own" *especially out there with my son* I stay.
I stay in a place that is not good for my health. Mentally and Physically. I do as they say. I keep my mouth shut. I am the doormat.
Somewhere inside, I fear that I like being the doormat.
I fear that I like to be mentally abused. If anything, it gives me some character.
I fear that I prance around and send off signals that I want to be walked on, that I want people to take advantage of me.
If this is true, I'll never be able to break the cycle, and I will die never knowing what it's like to be free. I'll never know what it is like to fly.
If it isn't true, I think that I must be the stupidest person alive, and I deserve to never know what it's like to be free. What it is like to fly.
I'm tired.
I'm tired and sick, on a lot of levels.
We'll Shoot Back Holy Water Like Cheap Whiskey...
07.28.06 (9:53 pm) [edit]There is an overwhelming, recurring feeling of sadness that has kept me crying day in and and day out for too long now.
I'm actually frightened.
There isn't a "calm before the storm" in my world-this breeds suspicion, anxiety, fear, sadness and tears. It's a tornado before the bomb drops.
That's kind of how I've been feeling lately.
Crying:
IS FOR THE WEAK.
Hell, when I was younger and I cried, I'd get smacked even harder because I would cry so much that I couldn't catch my breath. So it isn't as though crying got *or gets* me any kind of comfort.
All crying does is piss people off.
And yet I can't stop doing it almost all of the time.
Do I think my lovely Zoloft and Clonazepam and Wellbutrin take away the pain? Well, sometimes I really do think that I'd be dead without them. Some days I wonder if they make me worse. But I still hurt.
Do I think that the Ultracet or 800mgs of Ibuprofen take away the pain? Some days they will dull it a bit.
Do I think that all these years of therapy have done me any good? Come on.
I exist.
Yet,
I love.
Yet,
I lose.
And Still,
I hurt.
And Always,
I cry.
And this is only the tip o' the iceberg.
You Said You'd Read Me Like A Book...
07.28.06 (1:00 pm) [edit]When things go wrong, they REALLY go wrong...
On a much larger level, a much larger scale.
Sometimes emotions, thoughts, memories change so rapidly that even I can't keep up.
So I can't very well expect anyone else to keep up either.
Many times I don't, not consciously anyway.
I always seem to think that people are on the same "page" as me.
That they think like me.
That they "know" like me.
That they are like me.
And time and time again, I get knocked on my ass with the reality of them, me, the world. Each time, it gets me totally by surprise, or at least, I react as if it does.
I don't think that I'm better than anyone else for thinking the way that I do, or not thinking for that matter, I'm just me.
Sometimes, somewhere, I will accept that.
Understand that.
Be at peace with that.
But The Pages Are All Torn And Frayed.
Yes, THE ABSOLUTE theme song of my life. I THANK MCR every day since they found me.
The Number You Are Calling...
07.20.06 (7:28 pm) [edit]Since I'm unable to get to other blogs that I WANT to go to for some unknown reason, I thought I'd just try and write something.
What in THE holy hell is wrong with this world?
Yes, well, if anyone is able answer that million dollar question, please feel free to let me know.
Or should I say, if anyone knows how to FIX this world, feel free to let me know.
The ones in this life that make life worth living:
Cannot be "kept".
Cannot be "helped".
Cannot be "saved".
They can only be LOVED until the day that they are gone.
And in my FairyTale Land of Make-Believe:
They never go away.
They never get sick.
They never die.
I refuse to believe that there isn't help out there.
I refuse to believe that there isn't a way to make this shit dump of a world a better place.
I refuse to believe that there isn't Hope.
Welcome to my world of delusions.
Sadness Closes My Eyes Now.
Sleep well dear ones.
I love you so very much.
May tomorrow be a better day, or at least, not worse.
KnOcK kNoCk...
07.18.06 (11:08 am) [edit]Who's There?
Anti.
Anti Who?
Anti-Social.
Yes, well, that is a little old joke that my nephew was told to tell me once...only he pronounced Anti as Auntie, with a speech impediment.
Har. Har.
I am anti-social and I'm not. With my family, or friends or anyone else.
It depends on the time you "get" me. Where my head is at.
I like to try and excuse myself from anywhere or anyone that I feel I can no longer be around, due to the many "issues" that I have. Thus the little joke.
Joke as it may be to them, but I've explained to everyone repeatedly that I need my space. And in a place where there's wall to wall people, issues and drama, sometimes you just have to find a place to hide.
I do this as often as I can.
Sometimes people just overwhelm me, their ignorance astounds me, and their voices deafen me.
Sounds rather judgmental, doesn't it? I've had a long time to sit back and watch and listen to those around me.
I've had a long time to think of what I've been "taught" and what I believe, and how to distinguish the differences. How to strive towards "better".
I live in a box with my family.
This box happens to be in a box of a town.
This town is in a box of a County.
This County is in a box away from the "Real" City.
The "Real" City, I'm told isn't so much of a box, but a bit more open.
I try my best to think outside of the box. I do not claim to be perfect.
But don't tell me what to do
How to think
How to Be
I'm just
ME.
And so it begins
07.17.06 (6:21 pm) [edit]Yes, there is Italian Blood coursing around somewhere in my body.
And with this fact, I thought I would make my blog a little more interesting, use a little Italian.
Making things a little more interesting has worked for me so far.
Still testing, still trying to "tweak" things, make them look the way I'd like them to.
Thinking on what I may like to share, or not.
Here goes nothing.
