This happens every year

What does it mean when you wake up crying? Like, what does it MEAN? Worrying that you won’t be able to compose yourself while you’re a guest in someone else’s house for a couple of days when the people you’re traveling with are the thing you need to travel from. Then feeling guilty you’re not counting your blessings. I’m poor – I can’t move out. I’m weird — too weird for contemporaries (I tell myself, anyway) even though I’ve got a whole bunch of ’em. I might die, you know? Inside, if i keep going like this. I might die. Haha, it’s not like I LOOK like death. I wish I did though.  Sad people are just so damn attractive, but I look too normal for this. I’ll be a fat girl forever.

I’d like to be shocked or given some kind of sedative. Be beaten up, kicked a little. Beat the hunger out of me. Just don’t break any bones – I’m terrified of that. I call her names in my mind even though I love her. When they talk to me I wince. I’d write about what I’m up to lately, but all that’s candy. I’m a strong person. Logical, too. Then the guilt comes back telling me everyone’s healthy, people are doin’ fine. Maybe a little depressed, but ‘least no one needs a kidney, right?

I’ll never have children. No matter how Armenian-cute or half-armenian-cute they might be. I don’t like real things.

Leaving their house, I knew I wanted a cigarette in the car. I put on my jacket and squeezed my tummy muscles so tight, nudging myself to not not not not need one. I’ll have one tomorrow. I wish cigarettes were NOT not good for you. And that every time you had one, it’ll feel as good as the first, or feel like that ONE ’cause they’re just NOT anymore. (Same goes for a lot of things.) Celebrating with a big dinner and two bottles of wine on the table frightens me. Alcohol is better on an empty stomach.

3 crumpled up tisses at the side of my computer. Drawings — bullshit doodles on the margin of this — that don’t really mean anything. Mostly screensavers, with the intent of keeping your mind busy/numb so everything else won’t seem so… and then… LOOK! PRETTY-PRETTY PICTURE.

Maybe a little melo-dram, but writing it made me feel better and I threw the tissues awway. So, thumbs UP!

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