Make them go away.

ESPECIALLY because I know they will go nowhere.

K, thanks. :]

I need to know something, and I’m afraid I have to ask you, reader, because thus far all inquiries to deities have been ignored or simply perished within the tilted halls of my mind, and searching within myself has conjured up little to no response.

I have to know, reader, whoever you may be: When will I learn?

When will I cease this path of self-destruction I seem so adamant upon walking? Will it be when I breathe my final breath, or worse, send someone else to their grave or gaudy urn?

I get upset when I accidentally take a bug’s life. Why do I have such little regard for my own?

I am not suicidal by any means — not anymore. My obsessive fear of death has (thankfully) been subdued, if only because of recent drama in my life. I hate drama that is not on a stage, but perhaps that is/was all I need/needed to quit living in my head so much, even when I was around others.

But I am afraid (ha, excellent choice of words) I have a new fear: losing my freedom. I have already learned this lesson, yet here I am in the same metaphorical boat yet again, only the consequences I face are much more real and terrifying. I am an adult now, but am I really?

I decided, on a whim, to travel to Canada to support my good friend’s original play which is taking place today, tomorrow, and the day after. I have the means to do so. Yet, due to my current situation, I am unsure if this is a wise decision to make, as it may appear that I am fleeing the country, and the last time I entered Canada the police falsely suspected me of smuggling drugs. I was eighteen, petrified, and just wanted to see my girlfriend again.

Now, I want to see all of the friends I had to leave behind three years ago, but I’m afraid I’ve sullied that, too. So tell me, reader, when will I learn?

I think all of the trauma I have been through recently is finally catching up. I am a strange individual; when chaos or tragedy faces me, even something joyous, the reality and gravity of the situation almost never hits me until at least a month or so later. I do not understand why. Perhaps this is a coping mechanism. Perhaps it’s the way my brain was formed, or perhaps it’s the damage I’ve caused to my brain by all of the chemicals I’ve forced into my body. Either way, the break up, the confession, the insults, the rings, the heartache, the xanax, the crushes, the hospital, the operation my mother had, the loneliness, the worry over myself and my friends, and the arrest is weighing down upon me, finally, when I was as cool and collected as I could be.

I dislike being emotional. However, I know I am going to have to give in at some point, if only for my sanity.

I just keep telling myself, over and over, the same five numbers: Two, four, six, zero, one. These numbers have the greatest of meanings for me; they shall always remind me to be a better person, to own up to my mistakes, to love my fellow woman and man, and maybe one day, myself.

Now I have to cheer myself up. Fett’s Vette by MC Chris should do the trick.

Annnnd now, I shall look up reputable tattoo parlors. Here, and in Vancouver.

“Real” writers supposedly write each and every day, and they don’t allow excuses such as not feeling like writing or waiting for inspiration to get in their way. So, I’m going to try it out. I’m not setting any expectations for this, but it’ll be a good writing exercise. I hope I stick to it.

——
Prompt from “The Writer’s Block”:
Infectious
——

The chair looked oversized in comparison to its occupant, and its occupant was none too happy. Crossed arms, eyebrows stitched, lips firmly puffed into a pout…

“Hmph!”

And, of course, the overly dramatic and exaggerated sigh.

Across from this grumpy figure was another, seemingly decorated in silly hats and gloves, necklaces and clip-on earrings all up and down their ears, random action figures dangling from the long, beaded and stringed jewelry.

“Come on…” The other figure whined, clearly growing more and more agitated with every passing second. A gloved hand reached out and over, offering friendship, only to be swatted away.

And that was it. Having a flash of what MUST have been pure genius, the bejeweled figure withdrew quickly and shook a hand, omitting a hissing sound of “pain.”

The little figure in the chair laughed. The plan had worked! Sticking out the fabric-clad hand to be “hit” once again, the two repeated the process, until the little figure’s laughter was so infectious that the other couldn’t help but laugh along.

Soon, the chair was vacant, and little chubby arms snaked their way around the other’s torso.

“I wuv you, sissy.”

The big sister, having accomplished the daring feat of cheering her younger sister out of her fit, beamed with pride and hugged back, lifting her sister off of the ground.

“I love you, too!” she said, happy the whole ordeal was over with. Once her younger sibling was back on both feet, she ruffled her hair and the two enjoyed their moment of peace and happiness.

“TAG! YOU’RE IT!”

Only to have the sister begin the cycle all over again.

END

——

So, crap, yes. But not terrible crap. *shrug*

‘Til tomorrow! …Or possibly Sunday, when I’ll have time to do this!

I feel so refreshed. :]

In an attempt to get myself out of this rut I have fallen into, I am making a schedule for myself for a few days to a week. I have no job at the moment and I am not in college either, so all of this free time isn’t helping everything else going on in my life right now. I need a little structure, methinks.

SATURDAY
Wake up around 10 or 11.
Clean area around closet; sort clothes; hang/wash them.
Clean area around piano.
Finish cleaning desk area.
Go see movie with dad; either Star Trek or Up, whichever he prefers.
Go to Home Depot, get blinds (make sure to measure window space beforehand).
Potentially hang out with Autrelle.

SUNDAY
Wake up at the same time or earlier; get sleeping pattern straightened out.
Finish cleaning areas from yesterday, if not finished.
Clean area behind door.
Clean table area beside bed.
Clean tv area.
See if you can hang out with Autrelle if you couldn’t the day before. If you did, hang out with Eirikke.
Talk to parents about college situation.

Hm. Maybe I should just stick to these goals first before I write anymore. Haha.

If I know anything at all about myself with absolute certainty, it would have to be the fact that I think way too much.

Thinking too much is bad for anybody. It’s practically all that I do. And unfortunately, I’ve found that being around other people doesn’t particularly dampen this ‘defect’ or even tone it down at times. I get so wrapped up in my own often repetitive thoughts that sometimes I can’t focus on what other people are saying to me. Of course, that can be accredited to the barrage of mental disorders that were kindly handed down to me through the generations and genetics. My mother and her twin sister were adopted and her biological parents requested that their information, should it ever be sought after (and it was), be non-identifiable. So, through what little we do know about my mother’s biological side of the family (and my biological side, as well), I had two or three great-aunts who were locked up in a mental institution back in the day because disorders such as anxiety and depression were looked upon as ‘fucking crazy!’ to have. I have both of those (thanks, aunties!) as well as mild OCD. Throw in the possibility of the alcholism gene, and maybe even bipolar disorder, and we’ve got one hell of a party in my brain.

It’s the way my brain was formed, it’s genetics, and if you believe in God or a higher power, maybe it’s that, too. But overall, I’m pretty fucked up. If your brain is chemically balanced for the most part, you most likely don’t know how lucky you are. I have to take five pills daily (around eight or nine doses total, as my doctor and I are trying something new and I don’t get it for about another week) just to get my brain marginally balanced, and even then it doesn’t seem to get my mind to completely shut up.

Obviously, it’s not as if I can go around sharing this woe with everyone I meet, or even most of my friends. In fact, I generally try to keep this information to myself, because most people don’t want to hear about it, and most people can’t handle it. Or, they think that I’m going to start expecting them to deal with my crap from there on out, which simply isn’t the case. I’ve dealt with it this long, I’ve kept it to myself this long, it’s not like I’m going to start viewing the other person as my new therapist couch. Please.

Still, it would be nice to have someone, anyone, to talk to who actually understands what I’m going through. Meaning: They, too, have the same disorders I have. All of them. Or maybe even someone who won’t sigh or roll their eyes or just blink and hold a long silence each time after you speak. Some of the closest people in my life often do this to me and I’m not sure they realize how that makes me feel, so I’ve stopped bringing it up, and it’s just lead to more silence on my part and more thoughts in my head, which is never good. There is only one other person in my life right now with whom I feel slightly comfortable speaking to regarding these topics, but even then she doesn’t quite have the same illnesses.

I’ve come to accept that I don’t have many people in this town with whom I connect. I’ve started meeting some new people, as I’m starting to overcome my shyness and step out of my shell. Having anxiety disorder certainly doesn’t help in social situations, but I think I’ve come a long way. Scratch that, I have. And I am certainly a hell of a lot more confident than I ever have been in my life. But yes, for some reason, I find it far easier to befriend men than women. Most women my age are just… foreign to me. All it seems they want to do — at least, what I’ve seen from the girls I’ve encountered — is either listen to really bad music/watch really bad films/etc. and only seem to ever do shallow things such as boy hunt and style hair (not as a profession) and so on… and the other “category” I’ve run into is the bitchy kind, where they’re either a complete and total bitch (which makes it impossible to befriend) or a group of bitchy chicks who make it impossible to break into their little network. It’s so frustrating because, as a girl, every now and then it’d be nice to get out and go hang with a female friend who is on the same wavelength as I am, with the same interests or at least, similar interests, and intelligence! That’s something you’ll find in all of my male friends. They’re all unique and fascinating and everytime I hang out with them, I walk away having learned something. I only hope they feel the same way. I value intelligence, and from what I’ve seen, it seems that the girls around here are either too busy trying to look cute and get guys or they are intelligent, but as I previously mentioned, they make it impossible to make friends with.

And I don’t want to come across as a hater or anything like that. I am hoping I have just been looking in all of the wrong places, which is probably the case, as I am just starting to really come out of my shell and get out in the world. (Not that I wasn’t out and about before. I was in college for a while, but I was extremely depressed so making friends was the farthest issue on my mind.) I meet a lot of cool chicks at clubs and whatnot, but that usually isn’t the best atmosphere for friend-making (at least, with chicks, I’ve noticed. Most come pre-made. Guys, on the other hand, seem to be able to chat easily with each other, but girls, not so much. Unless I’m missing something.) and I don’t have a lot of other places I frequent where I could actually make any female friends.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if I didn’t feel as if I was missing out on something. I absolutely LOVELOVELOVE having male friends and wouldn’t give any of them up, but having a female perspective every now and then would be great.

Wow, I’ve been writing this for a while. It’s 8:45 now.

I need to figure out how to correct the main page of this blog. I deleted the default post and ever since, it won’t automatically go to my first post and will instead say that it can’t find any page, which is ridonkulous. Grr. Arrrrgh. I used to be so HTML-savvy, and now I’m like, “Wuh? Why can’t I get this to work?” Hah.

Maybe sometime soon I will attempt to articulate some of the thoughts that go through my head. It’s so frustrating, knowing and feeling these thoughts and yet not knowing quite how to articulate and express them.

I reeeeally need to work on cleaning this damn room of mine. It’s reached a whole new level of “Good God Man.”

Winding down, now. Until next time.

~ K