I feel

Like a druggie
But then again...
what's so bad about that?
I'm unique
I'm different,
If I take pills to feel more level headed every once in a while
just for a break
just let me.
I am who I am
I feel sick to my stomach
I feel depressed
they are all feelings that contribute to who I am
I don't like these feelings
I like myself though
And these feelings are some of who I am
fucked up or not
I am a fucked up person.
I love the fucked up parts of me as much
if not more than the normal ones
I am who I am
And I am beautiful

yesterday

Was a good day,
I got to see Marshall, it had only been a week since I had seen him last but it felt like forever and a day.
The day passed too quickly.
It felt so nice to fall asleep in his arms again
I am leaving for San Diego at midnight on the 21st
I am excited, not for the nine hour bus ride of course, but to get out of this hell hole that I, for some reason, refer to as home.
I just wish I could stay away from this wretched place
Working at Sears, and dealing with stupid people,
even the smart ones
is driving me mad,
I can't handle wearing this plastic, smiling salesman's mask any longer
it's too much for me
to reapply this smile, this grin,
to recite over and over,
these lies
to push people that I don't know into buying something that I truly know nothing about.
It's making me frail,
emotionally, and mentally
the mental exertion needed to keep this smile plastered on my face is driving me mad.
I need to break free.
I need to be me again
I need to find myself again
be true to myself again
in doing so, begin to love myself again.

tat tvam asi

tat tvam asi that thou art, or thou art that
I read it described as understanding that which will teach you the meaning of everything
Like understanding clay, you now understand how things of clay are formed
or understanding steel, gold, paper
you now understand things made of this.
Now tonight I meditated on tat tvam asi
And I realized that understanding who I am through meditation will allow me to understand how other people are made
like the pot made of clay, and the bowl made of clay
I am made of the same things as my fellow man
Even the ones I would rather not associate myself with.
Understanding myself, what makes my flaws and the circumstances that have put me in these emotional situations will allow me to realize that others have been through the same and worse and that is why they are who they are.

rain>sunshine

smoked two cigarettes, my version of chainsmoking
sleep eludes me.
No matter how hard I try
all I can think of doing is crying.
I guess I'm not trying too hard to fall asleep
considering the fact that I've turned this infernal laptop on again
I just needed to write
and I cannot for the life of me find my damned journal
I was sitting on my roof
smoking the first of my two cigarettes of the night, or more accurately, early morning,
and a few raindrops fell on my buzzing head.
I realized that
in this desert that I call home looking for the sun to shine is no big goal
I guess
the positive days,
the days worth remembering are the ones in which the raindrops fall
When I am looking for change from my monotonous life
I must look forward to the rain, not the sun.
Marshall has been gone for 3 days now,
or today will be the third,
he is due for a visit in 4 days
he'll probably be here around six at night
I wonder
is he looking forward to the visit as much as I am?
Does he really care?
When he left on the 9th, he cried.
He was genuinely sad
but, was that emotion just a fleeting one?
Is he still thinking of me
He's a gemini
very flighty and free spirited,
I'm a taurus, very grounded and emotional
I've always had this feeling that somehow I wasn't, deserving of the kinds of feelings that I have for others
is that true?
Can nobody feel for me as strongly as I do them?
Or is this just a sick game I play with myself to keep myself in check?
Do I fear somebody loving me because that would mean that I am all I think I am?
Maybe if somebody loves me for me
I'll stop striving to change myself for the better.
I don't know.
I just need to vent,
probably doesn't make too much sense.
Does it really need to?
I doubt that anyone will actually waste their time reading my endless babble anyway.
all right, and alright, have two completely different definitions, in my book.
I watched something on tv, the history channel, I guess about Nelson Mandela.
Now that is a man to admire, the Che Guevera of South Africa.
I don't know what else to write, I really don't
I guess I do.
I could probably ramble on this way for hours.
I really think that I could.
I'll try not to.
I have to wake up in 5 and a half hours, and I guess I could use the sleep for work later on today.
I would rather not sleep I guess.
I really should though.
This job takes up too many of my valuable mental and emotional resources.
I need my strength, not physically, but mentally, and emotionally, so that I don't end up pumping my brain full of lead, or my stomach full of too much xanax by the end of the week.

addiction

Today, well yesterday as of 2 and a half hours ago Marshall, my boyfriend of 2 years, and my best friend before that for 2 years moved to San Diego, I live in a small town outside of Las Vegas, so where he's moved is about a 6 hour drive from here
We've decided to go on a break until we are both done with school.
So in two more years we're planning on being together again.
Marriage? maybe...
Hopefully.
I just hate the fact that we can't go through these next two years together, helping eachother with all of the challenges we're going to face.
Now since he is gone I'm ridiculously depressed, understandably so, but I've been feinding for xanax, because when I have xanax I don't worry, or cry, or feel like crying every five minutes.
it's unhealthy for me to deal with stress this way.
I know it is but I just can't, no! I can!
But for some reason I am too lazy or weakminded to deal with my problems on my own.
I need this crutch,
this artificial happiness.
It really saddens me
I feel that my addiction to this pill will get worse because Marshall isn't here to keep me in check, or to keep an eye on me and to tell me when he thinks that I am going down a path that will lead me to rock bottom.
So I am addicted to xanax, and I am addicted to Marshall.
Atleast the happiness that I get from Marshall isn't artificial.
That happiness is genuine
the happiness of first love.
the happiness of memories that will never fade
the happiness of knowing somebody loves you as much as they love themselves.
the overwhelming feeling of someone else's happiness meaning as much to you as your own.

agh

took my little sister to the fireworks.
Felt horrible because I couldn't even afford to buy her a glow stick necklace.
Planned on going to a canyon and having a party and camping
we're going to end up sitting in some dingy garage
yuck, we never do anything different.
Too much of the same thing every day.
Stresses me out
I hate a life with a lack of surprises.

my mind right now

I have been stressing, stressing to the point that my body is feeling the fatigue and tension that my own brain and heart and soul carry.
My life is empty.
My life is worthless.
So why do I care so much about what happens in it?
Why does every day seem so significant.
So important to execute it perfectly.
Every word, every movement must be perfect,
and yet...
it never is,
the more I try to be perfect,
the more I strive for normality,
the farther away from it I become.
What is normal?
Should I be an empty-headed pretty face
a stick figure, anorexic psychopath
a psuedo intellectual poet
A charming witty girl
I don't know what I should be
I don't know what normal is
but I do know that it is what is expected of me
or...
am I expected to be this unique, individual?
Must I always have a witty comment on hand?
Is that how I make up fo rht efact that I am not just a pretty face
that I weigh more than 100 pounds
As I write this I glance back at what I have written, and there are so many type os why are they called type os?
What in the hell do o's have to do with it?
What's wrong with me?
There are crumbs in my keyboard.
Must be because I have to find multiple purposes for everything.
I just wish I knew what to do
Wait...
I do know what I should do
The problem is,
I can never seem to find the motivation to do it.