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do another detour
28 June 2012 @ 11:41 am
trying to decide which extreme actions are currently justified by how bad I feel.
do another detour
26 June 2012 @ 06:10 pm
on a mission.

I changed my mind. talked myself out of it. bought a notebook instead. chainsmoked, wrote, sitting in my car in a parking lot, sweating.

it's possible that I would have regretted buying them.

I certainly regret not buying them.

I am not sure which is worse.
do another detour
I am like a shitty bookshelf, that can't stand up unless propped against something more sturdy. I am absolutely incapable of functioning without an advocate, an ally. I have none of my own strength, can only borrow it from others.

I am so desperately empty inside that without a constant influx of support and reassurance I have no ability to function.

I can't be alone.

I am unforgivably selfish.

I am unable to process wanting as anything other than being unforgivably selfish. I can't shake the image of myself as some kind of greedy demon-child, hungry and violent, capable of consuming everyone and everything if I should dare open my mouth. So I don't. I can't. I can't imagine there is enough of anything in the world to actually satisfy, so what is the point in trying? I would destroy you and still be left empty.

I primarily idealize this whole open, authentic communication thing as a means of determining what other people want, which has always been my goal. The idea that people would actually just tell me, and not make me go through all ten steps to subtly determine what they actually mean? Awesome. That messy part where I am actually supposed to communicate, also? Fuck that noise. Also, this rests on some assumption that they actually care what I want, that it's any of their business, or that it's OK for me to ask for things. See previous paragraph.

I am still, after all this time, too neurotic to be succesful in relationships.

I have, despite plans and schemes and efforts, failed to build myself a personality or a character that I feel I can rely on in times like this. Stress dissolves the artificial, leaving me with the same basic components I had when I was thirteen. Among those artificial things: compassion, generosity, confidence, warmth, and any ability to exist outside my own head.

I have no legitimate ambitions. I am merely flailing about in a disintegrating life, wildly searching for something that might prove to be some sort of salvation from myself. This is exactly the same strategy I've been using forever.

Since it seems very unlikely that any accomplishments might make me hate myself less than I do, I am not sure what the point of any of this is.

I have nothing to offer.

I never have.

I am still distinctly wounded from things that ought to be long forgotten.

I don't actually forgive people so much as remind myself that I shouldn't expect anything more and close myself off.

I really don't want anything out of life except for people to pay attention to me and give me positive feedback. I literally can't think of anything else that I want.


do another detour
14 May 2012 @ 04:59 pm
don't ask for things.

or talk to people.

or get emotionally invested.
do another detour
14 May 2012 @ 03:09 pm
things to remember:

I am completely insane. any indications to the contrary are simple anomalies, and do not mitigate the underlying truth that I am completely, totally, absolutely fucking insane. a few good hours or days or even years do not change anything.

I need to keep my mouth shut.

this isn't about me. it has never been about me. none of it has ever been about me, and it's really much better that way.

it is actually not OK to be this fucked up in spaces where other people can see me. (LJ doesn't count, duh.)

I need to work on being HAPPY. for the benefit of everyone, including people that I might actually be able to be authentic with if I weren't such a crazy bitch. authenticity is for the rest of you. I forget that.

do another detour
05 May 2012 @ 10:09 pm
and in doing so, talk about all the things I said I wouldn't. 

except religion. I left that part alone.

but - 


time for cards.
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02 May 2012 @ 10:30 pm
I am going to write about Beltane, for real. It...I don't even know, OK?

What I do know is this: I didn't really sleep.

Also: I don't feel that I've earned it.

There is this increasing level of intensity around my...

whatever. I am just exhausted.

I just spent three days in the woods with the intent of recharging and I've come away from it with an intense desire to apologize to everyone and everything. yeah, that's exactly where I was when I left.

I left a lot of things unfinished when I went out of town, and now they have to be dealt with, and I don't want to deal with them. I want to sleep. but I can't sleep. insomnia has been the order of things for the past several months, with one night here or there but nothing very substantial.

lack of sleep renders me even more insufficient than normal. I have never been enough, but certainly I am not now. certainly I am so much less than all of you require.

and certainly this suffering is insufficient to count for anything, to make up for the transgressions that certainly need to be made up for. certainly all of this is true.

certainly I didn't find whatever internal peace I wanted to find this weekend.

I don't know how much of this is sleep deprivation. I don't know how much of it is insecurity brought on by not having a working cell phone. I don't know how much of it is me, and how much of it is you. does everyone really hate me? or am I just feeling that?
do another detour
23 April 2012 @ 06:38 pm
part of it is this whole *more* thing, like I am all about the *more* right now, and I feel like life is all so demanding, and I take pride in that, if not pride then comfort -

oh shit


that sucks


gotta love epiphanies.

that's why I write these things, though, I guess.

Comfort in it, in this schedule in this insanity in this constant list of things, comfort in a life that demands from me, that wants... it's that whole crushing silence of evenings, thing.

that's actually probably all it is.

that at least someone wants something from me. at least I have something to contribute somewhere.

wow that sucks.

I really wish that my entire life wasn't a disgusting, approval-seeking gesture.
do another detour
23 April 2012 @ 06:19 pm
reactivity. that's the theme.

all was superb and then a client that I thought was in the bag went away, through (I hope) no fault of my own.

and then someone sent an e-mail that included a couple of condescending words. I already suspect this person hates me, and I have no idea why. and the thing she is mad about IS NOT MY FUCKING FAULT WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN?!

oh yeah, the whispers whisper, because I am out in the world and doing things. because I am trying to engage with the world. because that's what happens when you stick your neck, or hand, or toe, or thoughts out.

because I am doomed to fail.

and then I saw something, some words, that made me panic, there is this borderline triangulation thing happening in my head and like I don't even want to know why you said that it's bothering me, you and your honesty and your fucking words.

sinking feeling that everyone really does hate me, that it's a giant practical joke, that it's all an illusion, that I am widely reviled and despised.

I just don't want anyone to see or hear or be aware of my presence. I want to be erased. all evidence, like one of those poorly done horror movies that would be better if only they got this part right: the person they miss, the person who remembers, the person who doesn't get wiped - that would be me.
do another detour
22 April 2012 @ 04:47 pm
about how ever since Tuesday evening, when I finally changed my altar over, I've been feeling generally awesome.

not perfect, still kind of stressed, but this weekend especially has been filled with a general sense of stability and well-being.

and then something minor happened (I can't find my phone). and I am reminded of how terribly reactive I am lately.

I am also really confused by this alternating desperate wanting more and wanting everything to stop I mean, not like a suicidal "stop."

I just feel, a little, that I am terribly selfish and greedy right now, but so is the world. I want so much from it, it wants so much from me, and I am never quite giving or getting enough.

I don't really know what I am talking about, but I need to go back to work and see if I left my phone in my classroom.