{the avant-garde of mediocrity}
Last night in bed I lied there wondering if there is a God. It really got me for some reason because in my mind, if there were, he’d be able to communicate with us in some fashion. Unless in the game of life that is considered cheating. I don’t know.
Religion has always been odd for me. I feel awkward in churches and especially when trying to read the Bible. I get the strangest sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My parents never did the church or any kind of religious thing with my sister and I growing up. I’d go to Sunday school with a friend, but we were young enough for the coloring class with the lemonade and sugar cookies. I went a couple of times with older friends, but I don’t really remember the experience.
I would just find it interesting if there wasn’t a God. If this world was total happenstance. That would be almost as weird as sitting in church. I guess it boils down to me not knowing what I believe in. I cross my fingers instead of praying. I do on occasion say “Thank God”, but I think that’s more out of habit. I also will say “God Dammit” if you must know. I know, I know I am a terrible person.
iPad is not conducive for great inspiration on new posts, but fuck it. I want to post and if it’s trash, oh well.
Today I am treating Alice to sushi for her birthday. Yum! Then I get to watch Molly for an hour or so while Alice gets Lohan orange. I really hope that’s not what happens, but it’s spray and how much can you really trust that shiz to come out right?
I haven’t heard from D, but dude works all the time so it’s not a big shock. I wish I had a laptop so I can post the way I’m used to. I feel for you bloggers that use phones, pads and the like.
Though, I am typing with a stylus so I do feel that much more Apple Chic.
This is going to sound crazy, but it is what it is and if I leave it to my eyes only then I feel like it’s invalid and nuts and I’ll rip it up and then I won’t remember what went on so I can talk with my psychiatrist.
Last night this kid I used to work with (not really a kid, but I don’t know what to call him) is texting me about porn. I get a call from Alice and we are talking and out of context while I am talking about a Grey’s episode she says, “Not real. It’s all imaginary, fake.” I get a text from the kid while on the phone with her, but ignore it because I am on the phone (pet peeve: answer a text while on the phone with me). The text I read when I get off says, “I finally got off to a babysitter porn”. Why does that trigger me? I babysat Molly yesterday. He didn’t know that. I always feel I am being watched. I always think there are cameras. Why? Because I worked in retail most my fucking working life and it’s the nature of the beast. Wherever you are, there are cameras.
I am also a big believer in nanny-cams so as I am already feeling what some would call paranoia, that flipped me.
Yesterday while Molly was napping I was watching House and this patient had something and they were trying to rule out Leukemia as soon as the symptoms are listed it cuts to commercial so what is the first commercial, it’s about Leukemia and Lymphoma. One of my lymph glands is “swollen” so I need an expensive sonogram to rule out any bad stuff like 7 months from now. I had thyroid cancer, a millimeter size bit of cancer, but enough to stick in my mind. Also when I was breaking out in hives and in the hospital the blood work was taking forever and the doctor is all like “you have a high white count blah blah” I’m like, “Heard it before let me go.”
So I Bing Leukemia and one of the symptoms that pops is flu like feeling and bone weakness. My brain goes, “There’s your sign” and I’m all like “You can go fuck yourself brain”, but even though I knew jumping to a conclusion like that in that manner was crazy.
It also doesn’t help that yesterday I found a free movie on the cable box thing called “Forever Lulu” What is it about? A schizophrenic woman who escapes a facility to inform her first love of their child she gave up. Sometimes when I go psycho, I think I am pregnant. Why? Probably because of the aftershock of going through what I went through with my first love. What scared me? She’s schizophrenic and her mannerisms are so like mine when I go psycho it’s… wow. I have no words for it. Now I know how everyone saw my breakdowns.
As I saw the fear in heartbreak in their eyes, they saw a crazy, paranoid, nonsensical freak show. That is why I hate pity. That’s why I think people are looking at me weird when they look longer than just a glance. That’s why I think paranoid. Because I remember all their mannerisms as they watched me spin out of control. It was like looking through a window pain.
I need away. I need to fucking just leave like everyone else does when they need a change of scenery. I need to clear my head.
I got in the car with my mom one night and I smelled this horrific smell of like gasoline and she said she could only faintly smell it. And said nothing else but to roll my windows down. Her expression on her face was the same look I have seen when I am spiraling down.
I’ve been called a hypochondriac all my fucking life. So much to the point that I can’t ever know what’s wrong with me, I refuse to go to doctors with any concerns. No one ever thinks that what I say is valid.
Last night I tell my mom I am a textbook (NIMH) version schizophrenic. “I hate when you read too much.”
I hate that I have to go through this life. Everything that has been instilled in me comes from my mother and sister. If they don’t approve or don’t believe me, I am obviously a hypochondriac and I am wrong and nothing I feel or think about myself is right.
Why do I not know what’s real? Why can’t I trust myself to believe myself? Yeah, I believe in self-accountability, but sometimes you have to know when something isn’t your fault. You have to realize that crazy didn’t start with you.
I have to get ready to take a little trip. Sorry there is no great ending.
Sometimes in my life things become too much. That’s when I call my psychiatrist.
What becomes too much? The internet, Television, Music, Electronics, People, Words.
The word Trigger triggers me when I am running high on sensory overload. Smells become too strong. People who don’t know each other become to blend and what they say seems like they are trying to see if I am OK by pushing me. They know what gets me because they have seen it before.
People’s behaviors change. They are too happy and what they say and do and think feels like they are emulating me. But not the me I think the world sees, but the inside me. The child who acts before thought. The child who is rambunctious and silly.
I have only felt it before. I have never seen it before. What have they seen? My breakdowns. Why do I ask so many questions through my writing? So I know where my thought needs to go. So I feel like I am making sense. Sense is another trigger.
What do you mean? I mean when people ask what I mean yet in my head what I said made sense to me it scares me that it might not be that way at all.
I forget what I have told people and if I trusted them enough to tell them something I find very intimate about myself, God help them. They have now become a ticking time bomb of a trigger. They bring it up and if I am in a mood that is closing itself off from people and they ask me about it, I think “What the hell are they talking about?” or “Why would they think that?” or “They are confusing me with somebody else” and then if it clicks it triggers because what I may have felt when I confided in them has changed.
I live my life in extremes, when I am in it. When I don’t have the need to be away from it. I try my damnedest to see the gray in life. To not be so rigid that if that person did something bad to conclude they must be a bad person. They will always be bad until they leave this world.
I see black and white. If you do something that I find is hurtful to me. You’re bad and I will pick over every little thing that has happened between us and the ugly things dominate more than the good you ever did therefore it validates my reasoning. I’m right, you’re wrong and you don’t deserve my forgiveness. I cannot forgive.
Then I feel bad after a while. I miss you. What if I was wrong? What if those things that happened are normal and natural and part of being human? I am being too harsh. I am bad for thinking those things. I am bad for feeling that way. I write you and apologize. And then I am scared of how you will react.
If you forgive me, you redeem yourself. Just that quick. What you did to me wasn’t bad. What I thought of you was bad. I am bad, but you can fix it because you forgiving me means I have some redeeming quality. Why would anyone want to be around a bad person?
Miss Flighty confronted Ivan. I was told Ivan seemed actually remorseful. She was vindicated. I hear people confronting criminals in court and telling those criminals how what they did harmed them or their families. They don’t have justice, but they have vindication. What they said was at least heard by the offender.
No one believes me. I will never have that opportunity to face the offender and I will never be vindicated.
I was at the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong things and didn’t stop him so obviously I am bad. My story is not true. I wanted him to violate me. I deserved it. I am a Madonna. I am a seductress. I tempted him. He’s a young man, what was I to expect?
I was like those skank ass bitches who wanted it. I wanted it and then I felt ashamed so I put all my blame to him. He’s a bad guy. A predator.
I’m just a little whore, how dare I try to say he did these things unwarranted.
Click for credit. Artist: Deimaus Title: Whore of Babylon
I am a crazy bitch. I am sick in the head. It’s obvious because my dad was an alcoholic and was away a lot of the time, I have daddy issues and was looking for a man to make me feel valid. At the age of 14.
I am Bipolar who can slip in and out of psychosis. The way I remember things are obviously wrong. I made it up. I made up everything. I am not who I say I am. I watched too many Lifetime movies. I listen to too much music. I am confusing what’s real with what’s not real.
Imaginary; Fake; False; Lies; Truth; Real; Unreal; That’s not how it happened; I wasn’t told that; That’s not what he/she said; Why do you think that way?; What’s wrong with you?; Exaggerated; Unbelievable; Inconceivable.
Fuck you.
