why arent i enough.

why is it that i am never enough.

i do everything i can. i am there for you, time and time again… more than most… i calm your fears, i hush your cries, i am the light in the darkness. and yet… i am not her.

is this my eternal fate. to always love someone who loves someone else.

how much longer can i allow this to go on. how much more pain can i tolerate from you. although unintentional, it is still scarring.

you are… perfection, in all its meaning. you support me and stand behind me like no one else. you push me to better myself. you believe in me.

you never bring me down. you never use harsh words. you never make me feel bad for being who i am.
instead you draw it out of me even more.

you make me feel secure, safe, unharmed. unbroken.

you are everything i never knew existed.

and i am the girl you love…. but arent in love with.

….

i will feel my breaking heart, while it tears me apart.

Hemorrhage.

Maybe sometimes we have to take our heart out. Pull it from of our body, set it on the table, let it hemorrhage. So that then we can actually live. Maybe keeping our hearts the way God intended them to be kept, isn’t how they are supposed to be kept at all. Caged in, protected by bones, organs, veins and arteries. Sure it keeps them safe, but in the end after countless attempts from the outside to break through to the inside, what do you have, except massive amounts of scar tissue on top of everything else. Scabs and muscle fill the gaps caused by searing knives of heartache. Thicker armor replaces the weaker defenses you once implemented. Thus, making it so much harder to reach the core of yourself. And if you cant reach the core… if you cant reach deep inside, then its only so much easier to lose yourself along the way. So maybe if we take our heart out… set it on the table… and just let it hemorrhage… maybe then we will feel.

So this is me. Slapping my heart down on the table. And as it hits with a force so powerful and violent blood spatters across my face and starts to collect in a pool beneath it. It drips off onto the white floor, staining the perfection I have created in my mind. But this is what I want. Raw… brutal… exposed nerve. Something so ugly and disturbing it is beautiful. My insides on display for the world to see, my rib cage open and vacant. I want to be messy and outrageous and free. I want to be stripped. I want to hemorrhage.

… it was like walking out into below freezing air… my breath was sharp and painful in my lungs… but it only lasted a second. and then… i was fine. i walked on into the warmth of the sun, and the happiness of my present enveloped me. so i shed my clothes and wore nothing but the smile he gave to me. and i never felt so protected as i did when my armor was finally gone.

I feel like I’m losing my mind.

For the second time in my life I feel like I’m literally losing my mind. These things your doing, they are things I already went through, phrases Ive heard, things Ive seen or havent seen. And you tell me not to worry, that if there was anything to ever worry about, this girl wouldnt be it. That shes nothing, a nobody. Unattractive, annoying, boring. She has just been there when you needed someone the most in your life, back then. And I tell myself that, yes, you are right. And I see what your saying and I tell myself there Is not reason to worry or be jealous. But… see… I have been told these things before. I have been told that a girl was ugly and annoying, boring and not at all a threat. I have been told these things straight to my face by a bold face liar. By a person who was making love to the very same girl he had just described to me that way hours prior. Ive witnessed weird behaviour, shook it off, and was slapped in the face by it. But… see… You are Not Him. I have to keep telling myself that. There is a point where we apply the lessons we have learned from others in our lives, but there is also a point where we realize that just because someone else did it to us, doesnt mean everyone else will. You are Definatly Not Him. You are… so far the opposite of Him. You treat me with respect, and you never have given me a reason to doubt what you say. Ive never once worried about where youve been, if your lying to me, if your using me, or if you will use me. Youve never shown me anything that would make me think those things about you. Its just my insecurities popping up. I guess because things will us are so… fragile. They arent set in stone, they arent one way or the other. They kind of just… Are. And so I exist, and you exist, and we simply exist, but our existance isnt defined as anything more than just existing. So here I am… frail and white knuckled on the steering wheel… seeing a curve up ahead but trusting that its not as sharp as I first might have thought.

Sigh.

You’re not like him, his faceless lies, his weakened heart, his lifeless eyes.

Okay.

So I’m back working at the stand. I was let go right before Christmas, but now I’m back. And I thought Id be happier…. Im even getting more hours. But… I dont know. Its all seeming so boring to me now. Everything… everything feels so mundane. Which is dangerous… because when I get bored… when I get bored… I start to Make things interesting. You should see my hell hole of a room. Im so bored… and depressed… I dont even bother to do anything with it. Its disgusting. I started working on it a few days ago, bought crates and piled in clothes that I dont ever wear, and in another one clothes for summer. Put all my extra blankets and pillows in another. And yet… everything else just sits. All the shit on the floor. You literally cant even walk. But I have utterly no motivation to do anything about it. It drives me nuts, but I just dont care right now. My dresser and windowsill, and well the floor too I suppose, are littered with glasses that have OJ stuck in the very bottom, vodka bottles lay strewn next to them, no longer useful to me I simply forget about them. Cans of Wired and shot glasses lie side by side, half drank Sparks that I couldnt force down. Unopened cans of Tilt that I have yet to become desperate enough with. I wanted to buy more vodka today, but I spent too much money at the sex shop. So there goes my drinking money. I didnt even pay attention, I didnt even realize that I bought 2 garters at 10 a piece… jeez. 50 dollars total, which to most people isnt much… but yeah… it is to me. Ah well… I am working decent hours this week, not too bad….

Blah… write more later.

Fuck. I think Ive became burned out on vodka… everytime I drink it lately it just makes my stomach hurt and feel like its tied in knots. I’m drinking it right now… on my third shot in my second drink… or it could be the Wired. My heart beats like crazy lately….

Ive also noticed some other weird things… my toenails… my fingernails… are not the color they should be. I looked down one day and thought…. thats not right? Then I thought theyd always been that way and I just never noticed much before… but no… theres a definate difference. They are blue on the bottom half, and slightly pink toward the top. I should say something… but I do not dare. I dont need the hassle.

I am forcing this down my throat… I hate the act, but I need the fix. I used to love drinking, I used to love the taste, the different things you could do with alcohol, but now I hate it. I hate almost everything about it. The taste makes me gag, my stomach begs me to stop. I have fallen in love with the feeling of it more than anything. So I endure the worst of it because the after effect is worth it… sometimes.

Id rather take something small and white and round. But I dont have much access to things like that. I have My drugs, but they dont do much but make me sedated… and that isnt much fun most nights. Some nights yes… some nights I love being put to sleep for days. But most times Id rather get a nice warm high.

I’m starting to get paranoid about what hes doing when I’m not around. All these phonecalls, phonecalls from people I dont know. He never answers. Maybe he does when I’m not there… maybe he doesnt. I cant ask… its not my place… I have every right to everything except to those things. I have no right to be involved in what he does with other people…. just what he does with me. But I put myself in this position… its not really his fault. Everyone tells me he loves me… everyone tells me hes just afraid, has his walls up… but that he loves me so much. Everyone but him. I take that as more proof than anything that he doesnt.

everytime i lie awake, after every hit i take, every feeling that i get, but i still dont miss you yet

and you… blah you! sometimes i have the strongest urge to call you up and just yell my little heart out. although it wouldnt make much difference, and really wouldnt solve anything… just make me look like a crazy person. we all know im crazy, but that doenst mean i have to look like one. but seriously…. i feel like all that shit… all that shit you put me through has really fucked me up good. and i feel like you never got to see how it affected me, and sometimes i just want to force you to see and hear it. you never had to deal with it, you just left it behind and came back only after it was all better. so yeah… fuck you for that.

im reading the heroin diaries… and got the soundtrack. god… how i can just relate to everything he says. granted, im not addicted to heroin or coke, but i have felt almost every feeling he goes through. some people call me an alcoholic… i dont buy it. i dont drink all the time, i dont need to drink every day… some people call me a binge alcoholic… whatever. i dont care.

i try to breathe… memories overtaking me
i just needed someone to talk to
you were just to busy with yourself
you were never there for me to express how i felt
now im older and i feel like i could let some of this anger fade
so where were you, when all this i was going through
you never took the time to ask me just what you could do…

yeah so you know what… fuck you and your money. i tell you to get out of my life and you dont. you send me checks still. and i fucking hate that i have to cash them because im so poor…. what else am i supposed to do. throw away 500 dollars… hell even 200 dollars…. i cant. i need it. and i hate hate hate that i need it.i long to send those checks back, return to sender. but i cant…. i need it to badly. so i have to cash them and i know you secretly get pleasure from seeing the records of the cashed checks you so manipulativaly send here. i wish you werent my father… then i would have no ties to you whatsoever. i always think i wouldnt care if you died…. you do so much to fuck up your own life… as well as mine… i suppose in a way i have you to thank for these addictive behaviours i so plainly exhibit and fulfill… on the other hand since i know about them i should take steps to alter that… though i dont… i hate that im like you… i HATE that i show the same things you do… i dont take coke like you did… and probably still do… but the only thing thats stopping me from that is my heart defect. i dont want to kill myself to get high. even if at random few times it seems worth it.

wow… im itching out of my skin… literallly. i have no clue why… im a little drunk… not much… but im just itching itching itching. out of my skin….

my shrink has me on 4 different drugs now. i only take 2 of them… and not even regularly. she hands out scripts like crazy though i tell you what…. whenever i come in almost she gives me a new med. i should take my meds regularly… id probably feel better. thats my own damn fault.

i dont know whats going on in my head lately… but i feel fucked.

if you dont start things soon… im afraid im going to start to stray… and id hate that. ill never tell you how i feel… purely from fear… and somewhat from idiocy….. but you are the best thing that ever happened to me. you make me better when im around you. i wish it was what people thought it was.

So not sure what to do right now or where to go. All I Do know is that I am feeling vastly overwhelmed and so out of control that I seem to be falling apart at the drop of a hat. What do I want out of my life. Ive been asked this so many times, and Ive asked myself this question repeatedly, and I still have no answer. I dont know, and who knows when I will. But my parents make me feel that at 23 I should have had this figured out long ago and been well on my way there. I suppose that that road isnt for everyone and I have had a lot happen in the last few years that most people dont see in their lifetime. I dont want to use that as an excuse, because its not… but at the same time it makes life a little more difficult to organize and focus on when you’ve got a zillion things going on that are out of your grasp of power. Maybe I just need some time. Some time to figure it out. I feel like Ive done that before though. At this point I feel like I need just for the world to stop. So that maybe I can actually look around for awhile, and not have everything rotating around me. I hate to say it but yes I feel like a loser and a failure. I know this isnt true, Ive had a few argue that point very well, and it makes me smile that there are people here that know this isnt about that. What do I want…. what do I want…. God if I could answer that question. If only to myself. I feel like I’m searching frantically inside myself to pull out the answer and it just wont come. I know what I Dont want. Maybe I should start there. I Dont want to live at home… I Dont want to do something I’m not passionate about and doesnt make me happy… I Dont want to keep going around in this circle… So I guess what I should do is start trying to turn those Don’ts into realities. But I dont know how. I honestly dont know how to go about anything right now. I feel like I continually make the Wrong choices, even when I am trying to make the right one.

As for now… I Dont want to be here. I made the wrong choice, I knew it right after I did it. I signed my name on the dotted line, got in my car, and instantly started crying. Who has that strong of a reaction the right decision? No one I know. So time to rectify that. This is going to cause a lot of commotion, I already know. People are going to be upset, there will be yelling, and outrage at my stupidity. I’m used to that reaction to my life. But thats the thing… its My life. I need to figure out what is right for Me and Me only. And if that means making a hundred, or a thousand wrong turns to get to the right one, well fuck it then thats what I’ll do. I have this problem of being stubborn and doing things my way and going at the speed of light with my eyes closed. But as much of a problem as it is, I will keep pushing and pushing until I break through whatever it is I need to to get wherever it is I want to be. I never know if what I’m doing is right, and thats another problem I have. Such uncertainty about everything. I think I look to everyone else to tell me what to do because I dont know myself. Well… time to start thinking for myself. Fuck other people and what they think is best. So far doing what everyone else wants me to do… whether it be moving across the country, or signing away 11 grand on something I’m unsure of… has only ended in me being unhappy and even more unsure than I was before.

Lets hope this works. I have no idea what I’m good at or what I’m meant to do in life. But heres to finding that out along the way.

Timing… And Relationships.

So heres my question… are relationships, men, women, love, hate, lust, sex, commitment and shall we say… “freedom”, all about, timing? Can you meet the right person, and everything be perfect about them and you and everything in between, but the timing is off. And what about the other way around, can you meet the wrong person at the right time? Are all our relationships about timing and chance encounters at pivitol moments in our lives. If we had met someone else at a different time, would things have worked out different? Or maybe not even happen at all. They say that men especially have whats called a “marrying age”, and if you meet them at that age and they’re single and you get together than most likely thats it for them. That if their previous girlfriend had met them only a year or two later she would have been the one walking down the aisle and not you. I mean, can that really be true? That when they hit that age in their lives the next girl they meet and take an interest in is the one they will decide to settle down with. They’ve reached that point that they have accomplished what they set out to accomplish, good job, steady stable life, and now they are looking to complete the package. And if you miss them, well dont even think about it. Chances are that was their one and only visit to that town and they arent even coming back. Kill me now. I cant be running around town all damn day hoping whoever I meet is at that age. Even if I wanted to get married now, which I dont, but you get the point. And what about those people you meet after Those People. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones who took your fragile beating heart and stripped it piece by piece right in front of your eyes. What about the ones you meet after the fact. If you meet them too soon then it will never, usually, work out, even if you want it to. But meet them a decent time after and who knows. Too long after, you’re probably too cynical and gone to even notice. So, is it all about timing? If so, that only adds to the complicated mess that finding someone already is. You could meet the right person at the completely wrong time and well… oh well. Or, maybe even worse, you could meet the completely Wrong person at the right time and then… well we all know what happens then. And I’ve met my fair share of both. In this huge spinning world, and vast universe, it makes me feel almost on the suicidal end of “love” because two people meeting on the exact same timeline seems almost impossible. I dont think I have Ever met anyone on the same timeline as myself. And even when my timeline starts to evolve to resemble theirs, there they go doing the same thing. Its like a never ending merry go round, and frankly I’m starting to get sick.

Maybe I’m just meant to be an inbetween girl. The one between the wrong girl and the right one, since thats the timeline I’ve been repeating for the last 7 years.

Cracks

So… Im feeling all these feelings lately. Im not sure how to catergorize them really. Its kind of confusing.

Feelings for one person, feelings for other people… other… types of people I guess youd say.

I am just feeling so much intensity right now. I want to explore all of these feelings, all the different ones, at such opposite ends of the spectrum, but I am afraid of each feeling. I wish I had someone to talk to but I am not really sure who to go to with this. Who can I trust, who can understand.

And with you. Lovely, handsome, you. Lovely, handsome, genuine, nice, caring, sweet, easy you. You are too good. And thats the problem. Things that are too good, are often, if not always, too good to be true. How can I even be sure these feelings are real for you if we cant explore them. If you’re afraid, and I’m afraid, then what. We are just two people, who go with the motions of something real, afraid to call it what it Really is, because if its really what it really is then theres a real chance of getting really hurt. Or maybe… its just real for me. And I guess thats what I am afraid of.

We all have fears. Especially those of us who’s fears have become all too real in the past. And then it gets harder to get past those fears, to come face to face with them, and be brave. It gets harder and harder not to sleep with a nightlight because when you become so used to that safety net it becomes the per usual of your life. I for one have many fears. Silly ones of spiders, scary movies, and things under my bed. More serious ones of plane rides and robbers. And then those fears that have developed only from experience, which I think can be the worst and most fearful of all. A crazy fear of hospitals, an intense fear of going under anesthesia, with last thoughts of never waking up again. A fear of falling in love. Or more so, of Love in itself. I tend to reject anything that resembles love in my life. Whether it be personally directed At me, or something in the passing of my eye. Romance, fairy tales, loving embraces, looks, and words. Too much for me. Bullshit, is what I call. I think that I try to make myself feel like its all too fake, too plastic, and try to convince myself that such things dont really exist in reality. Love isnt what everyone makes it look like. Its not picture perfect smiles, it can never be that way, and people who are sappy and too happy are really delusional waiting to be crushed. I guess because that was me. I dont ever want to let myself be deluded by someone again, into thinking that the feeling I feel is something so incredible that I cant be without it. The illusion of pure bliss and happiness. The feeling of such intensity in my heart, flowing inside my body, that I can hardly contain it. That is my worst fear. And speaking from experience, it has been rightly developed. Ive turned into this… this bitter, pessimistic, non believing girl. And I dont have too much of a problem with it. I dont want to turn into a silly naive girl like I was. I dont think Id be able to stand myself. But… sometimes, what I Would like… is to think that maybe its okay to feel loved and want to love. Maybe not the kind that I see everyone else having, because when I see other people, and not to be rude, I just feel like its such a show. And I want to roll my eyes and be done with it. But my kind of love. The new kind of love. I dont need to be totally wrapped up in someone else to be Happy. And I dont want to be. No one else completes the person I am and they never will, I make myself whole. And I like that feeling. Ive never felt that way before, until the last year or so, but it makes me feel stronger. Like I am a strong woman, not just some lovesick girl waiting for a man to come by and take care of her. Like I can walk into any place and hold my head up high and present myself for the world to see, standing alone and being Okay. No… Im not asking for a man to make me whole. God, I cant even think about getting that close to a man, not right now anyways… Maybe someday… maybe. But for me, that kind of closeness is almost, no it Is, claustrophobic. I need to have my own self, my own space, something to call mine and mine only. But, sometimes I like to think of someone standing Beside me. Holding my hand… pulling me close… giving me the kind of feeling that I dont want to admit I need, but for one second, I will admit it. I’m not going to go search for it, honestly I dont want to. I want to feel things naturally develop, which… ehhh… nevermind. I will say on that note though that… feeling something so easy, so uncomplicated, a feeling that you know is right, like the way you perfectly fit into someones nook, is such a peaceful freeing feeling. But thats all Im going to say… because being vunerable is also one of my biggest fears, and although I feel like a strong woman and can present myself as such… I am breakable… very breakable, fragile, and delicate. Not quite as hardened and cynical as the world might see when the lights go out.

what am i doing wrong. what am i doing right that im not doing enough of.

i just dont understand so many things right now.

first night i could drink in almost 7 weeks so you better believe i went out and had the equivalent to 5 shots. it was like heaven. i remember this feeling and i missed it.

i dont know. i havent written on here in a while and im sure eveyrones wondering what happened to me or maybe not. with the shit i write people probably thought i went and slit my wrists. i wouldnt be surprised if they did. but no i have just been busy. ive been sick, in and out of the hospital blah blah blah same old shit. just got done with a round of endocarditis, or infection in the heart, taken off my IV literally today. and off to the oncologist tomorrow. its like one problem for another. story of my life.

i just started writing again last night and now i feel like i cant stop. i think ive had so much built up lately and i havent had a chance to get it out that now i cant stop. im so…… spiraling. why do i feel this way. the words want to jump out of my mouth, i can feel them in my throat climbing up, choking me, and i cant seem to spit them out from behind my tongue. i am gagging on all these feelings, these intense feelings of all the things lately. its like…. i love this to death but i need a fucking break. i cant get so emtionally attatched. it scares me. things just freak me out and i cant put my finger on it but i need to get it out.

im hating every minute that i dont speak loud.

this lorazepams not working. oh yeah, my pysch is putting me on All sorts of drugs. lamictal, seroquel, neurotin, and now lorazepam. i just took, after i drank all that. your techincally not supposed to but fuck it. i hate feeling this way. just make me not feel anymore.

id pray, but i dont know what to say
ive wounded all my faith
i dont think that they’ll ever listen

shame is running through my veins
just need another little taste
its the devil im kissing

its too late to get saved

how long, are you going to have to go… before you see the miles of mistakes and the waste along these dead end roads and lost highways.

Illusion

I feel suffocated, claustrophobic. Like this world is caving in. Fake and restless, two toned masks. Hidden rats underneath the floorboards. I can smell them under my feet. Trapped. Incased in a glass cage. Its a facade, the beauty my eyes see, made up pretend. All in an attempt to fool me. But it doesnt sit right, my stomach is caught in my throat and I can feel it trickling out. Everything is falling apart. I can see cracks in the walls that arent there, beautiful wallpaper, stained, peeling. Pearly smiles, vacant eyes stare back at me, evil creatures behind my back. Everything is trying too hard. My chest rises and falls as the breath inside me dies to escape. Eyes wide with panic. Invisably chained, as to outfox me. Misleading my freedom. Every sentance, every smile dripping with a double meaning. Mouths drooling as I walk away. The wind whispers into my room at night. Inside the walls, I can hear them speaking, hushed voices, bits and pieces find their way into my ear. My legs ache. They wrestle with eachother to move. Move more than the dwellings of this world. The illusion of something so flawless, paradisiacal, a utopia. A world of misconception. Quarantined. Captive. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing is ever as it seems. One step beyond boundries, always someone there to lead me back. Something festers behind the locked doors. I know it. Waiting for my escape. Quickly now. Smash the pristine glass, climb out through the shards, delicate image shattered, bloody hands crawl through the garden. Exquisite, alluring blossoms transform into hideous weeds, snaking their way to me. Reality mutates the world, and true images come to light. Faster, faster, grasping for my small body, my twig legs running like mad, blood seeps through my doll like identity. My fingers stretch out for any source of freedom, vines whipping behind me, the wind screams in my ears, and hell befalls this world. For one beautiful moment my mouth breathes in the cold crisp air and my tongue tastes wildness, pure, raw, unrestrained feeling as it pours through every ounce of my body. Raging inside, pushing me further. And in one fatal swoop it is ripped from me, dragging me back, dirtying my precious view. All I see is green wrapping every which way around my immature scawny frame. Back through the glass, back to the delusions created to keep me. Keep me for the pleasure of another pretty thing, a decoration to add to the warped scenary. Staring out from the lonely tower I inhibit, perfection at its finest.

Spiraling

I dont know what is going on with me lately, Im not entirely sure how I feel about a lot of things in my life… no lie… I guess a Few Specific things. Its like a seasaw. Sometimes, most times, I feel content, if not happy, but then other times I feel not so great. And I would understand that and wouldnt feel so bad about it if it wasnt such a Bad feeling. Its not like a small bad feeling, its like a feeling of omniscient gloom. I dont know how youd put it really into words I guess. Just a “feeling”. An intuition. That maybe Ive had this feeling before, and I dont like this feeling because I remember what happened when Ive felt this way and well ya.

Im feeling…. feverish. I need to just get out of my own head. Im sure you all have felt that way before. Its like… I can feel myself in my own brain and my hands are pushing against my skull and I want to break it into shards but I cant. And the pressure is building and building and its like a fucking cage, inside myself.

Consequence. There are consequences for everything. The definition of Consequence is something that logically or naturally follows from an action or condition. The relation of a result to its cause. A logical conclusion or inference. I dont necessarily see that word as a bad thing. Not all consequences are bad, if you look at the definition. Often we define it as being a bad result of an action or situation. But its not really, its just the aftermath, or by-product. Some are good, some are worth it you might say. Some you forsee, and others you definatly don’t. The ones you dont can at times be the most detrimental to us… but sometimes even the ones we do see are so self sacrificing and destructive. And we dont care at the moment. We are so caught up in the passion and excitement of it all. Or the feeling, the rush of this ecstasy. Its like taking a drug. We become addicted to it. The situation at hand, we need it more and more and need more Of it. It becomes like a sick little game we play with ourself. We know it cant end well, we know that this is only going to fuck us up even more than we already are in the end, but we dont care, because in the moment we are free, we are golden, we are careless. And to feel like that, is a feeling we dont ever want to let go of. Especially those of us who are already fucked in the head. And in time even the game becomes warmth in our veins. Because that is what we are. Game players. We know the game, we know it well, probably better than most, and usually better than those who play it with us. So in the end I pose this question. Are others really hurting us…. or are We just hurting ourselves. I hate to say it, but speaking for myself I can answer that question with no hesitation. I am a full blown emotional masochist. I want the pain, I need it, I live for it. Its so sick and twisted but that is my world, that is what I am used to. So I keep coming back for more. And even when the people I surround myself arent trying to hurt me, or dont want to, or dont think they are, it seems that in some way they do. Maybe I am just so vunerable to it that I feel it within the slightest inclination.

What would I rather have. Love or hate. I dont know. I dont think you can have one without the other. Because honestly, how can you hate, really hate, someone you dont have some deep seated feelings for. Hate is such an intense emotion that I really dont think you can hate without love. I hate my dad… but its only because I love him so much. If I didnt then I wouldnt care. The things he does to me, the things he says to me, wouldnt bother me.

I havent drank in 6 weeks. Granted I have been on medication for bacterial endocarditis (oh the joys….) so I cant, but the longer I go the more I itch just for one. I am so envious of everyone else with their clinking glasses and chilled vodka. I stare at the bottles around my room and I swear if I didnt give such a shit about my life, which surprisingly I do, they would be gone by now.

blah. I dont know anymore, its such a clusterfuck.

and ive lost my appetite. which to be 100 percent truthful, I am insatiably happy about. I am pretty sure its because I am slowly upping my meds. but whatever the cause it doesnt really bother me whatsoever. im hoping it keeps up and i can lose these 15 pounds ive been trying to for fricken ever. i long to be down to 105 again.

how can this mean anything to me
if i dont feel a thing at all

yes… i am starting to spiral.

bi polar freak.