MY BODY HAS A LOT TO SAY

and it’s full of revelations

firstly being how right kat’s dance teacher is that if you want to write you have to first move. i switched up my body and my mind woke up. so full so sure.

it’s not that “everything happens for a reason.”
it’s that everything means something. (does it? me who loves nonsense, do i really believe that?) or maybe it’s more like nothing happens in a vacuum. everything is attached to something. but maybe everything does have meaning and if it seems like nonsense it’s because the riddle isn’t unscrambled yet? after all, we’re just the conduits.

driving along and thinking about the past, my past self. my happy list - the joy in simple things. picnics and mud and swings and dancing. just friends. those are all the real things. when did it get so bogged down? and when did i decide that my depression has always been eating me alive?? i mean it has but it’s not like i never enjoyed anything. i felt miserable in a cruel world that made me hate myself and makes people have to do horrible things to keep up with it. i was never actually the problem. i had so much passion and energy and i knew what was important!!! i’ve got to get that back.

and that was another revelation - all along six of cups. for months six of cups - good memories, childhood, family, roots, growth. i have to remember how to play. i have to get some of that child essence back. to be good and do good and CLOWN and remember how to be happy.

HARRY COULD ALMOST CRY AT THIS SIMPLE GIFT OF THE UNIVERSE.

i’ve been staring at it all along and i never really saw it. i’ve been saying yes yes i know and thinking it has to do with being home but now i see it’s about something i’m missing, or don’t have enough of, something essential. REMEMBERING TO PLAY. remembering to move. appreciating sensual experiences. i see now how i have to kill some of the adult learned bullshit to get back to a place where i felt better being a blank slate. (i’ve looked for that feeling so many places. sex, masochism, drinking, fire, internet, candy crush, dancing. playingggg and moving without myself is the best one. yeah?!)

i have to say thank you to the clown gods for being patient with me on this one. i’m sorry i had to ask so many times. i need to find a better way to process these tarot readings. through dance, maybe??? today i had the urge to get off after the reading, to be open and explode pleasure in the presence of the cards. i thought that would give them energy. obviously they don’t need it! i’m the one who needs the movement, the rhythm, the process!!!! to take it into my mind it has to come through my body. or vice versa.

is it a gift that the clown gods, the earth messengers, others, out there, are communicating with me? i guess they must talk to everyone like this, but not everyone listens (or knows how to). not trying to talk like i’m some great listener!! obviously i missed the six of cups message for months. (why haven’t they given up on me??) but i want to learn and i want to do better. better, bigger, harder, brighter magic. i want to make it good enough. i hope they’ll keep helping me understand how.

also side note i really need to get “brett” or whatever skeptical voice out of my head so that my thoughts stop getting distracted. ugh. at this point, how can i even doubt????

moments of clarity

brighter, harder, bigger MAGIC

feeling it today, feeling good. remembering that i don't need to swing wildly from the extremes of "i'm the worst" to "i'm so special and good" and actually there's this nice safe place in the middle. i'm not better than other people. i think everyone has the capacity to tap into magic, to pull down the moon, breathe fire. maybe i have some different channels open than other people do, but that doesn't make me better or special. i don't need to be huge, or be a star, or change the whole damn world, if i can change who's in the room, speak truths, bring in the small magic.

follow the fool
follow the impulse
the body knows something the mind doesn't

DANCE FREAK DANCE!!!!!!! DANCE FOOL DANCE!!!!!!!!
that would be an awesome queer dance party, lets make that happen. where??

i hear the right songs and i CAN'T NOT MOVE. i know what they are. cultivate htem and put them together. let's have a fucking dance party already. i can take it to the woods. i can take it anywhere.
i can take the clown to the woods without the nose, the hat, the covered body. i can clown wherever i need to, with anything. haven't i always??? when did i get hung up on accoutrements?!!? yes i want to keep learning and growing, yes i've got to evolve it all. but when did i ever want to do only one thing? can't i be clowning and dancing and following no rules? except the main one - give up give up give up. give up your thoughts and give your body over and let the gods move through you. stop thinking stop thinking stop wishing stop wanting. this is all there is, now.

yes okay fine the question of the audience, but right now they're not here. it's just me in my room. and sometimes i IMAGINE they're there, and that trips me up, traps me. i can't let them come in. it's dancing more than anything else because i fear the predatory eyes and the judgment and they think they own my body. i want to say, when i feel that gaze, my whole body will revolt, contort, i will become bug and beast. never for you never for you never for you.

take it through. if they want to come to your world, they can be an audience and we'll talk together. if they want to ride the wave and the rhythm of this mess, we can make it work together. they don't just get to come here and make demands.

keep the mind open keep the body moving
find new eyes find new power
yes yes yes yes feel that fire !!!!

can we always be dancing?? can we warm up wake up dancing every day? how can we try?
(we need a floor first, oh yeah)

stop thinking

listen i'm not even drinking
listen i'm stone cold sober
(unless you count adderall, 9 hours before)
i'd like to keep talking but i need to go take care of the dogs and then pack and then blah

maybe there is a lesson here about HOW I AM FUCKING OVERTHINKING EVERYTHING IN MY FUCKING LIFE and it shouldn't take this long or this much stress to pack. i'm going to the woods, but what do i really need?? a toothbrush and some clothes and a flashlight. why do i think i need more?

please alanna please stop being so sucked in by the computer. you think you need to know stuff that you don't need to know. most of what you are doing is actually hoarding. much of the time you are just following a line of tabs that never get read or watched and just pile up and pile up. REMEMBER WHEN you didn't miss that???? remember the communes in 2015 and remember the freedom of being phoneless in the loony bin???? you can't know everything and it stops mattering. the focus shifts. you've got to get to that. you've got to get to your body and intuition and the computer is neither of those things. you've got to stop. you're going to stop right now and you're going to stop writing and turn off the computer and go do the htings you have to do. you're going to cleanse your body and spirit in the woods, in the mud, in the river. when you come home, you're going to organize your fucking room and set up a fucking work space. you're going to make some fucking art. you're going to write. you're going to get one of those copyediting jobs and bring in some green beans. things are on the move and they're going to happen but we have to make them happen.

CAN WE DO A TWO WEEK COMPUTER CLEANSE OR SOME SHIT

okay here we go

lost on the ride

i haven't been writing. that's no good. i think this adderall helps my brain to not be a pinball machine but instead i am constantly hyperfocusing (??) i don't know if that' sthe right word to use for what is happening. i'm forgetting that i put a string around my finger. i maybe lost hte string before it even got to my finger. oof. i'm getting lost in the internet ALL THE TIME. this week i made a bunch of internet IMPULSE BUYS which is a new thing that i've never really done and it was a little too easy. i'm trying to do some research, or what i am doing turns into research, but i am just amassing a bunch of links and articles that i have not read. it's all stuff that's very exciting to me, about clown and performance and activist art, but the deeper i go, the more overwhelmed i am. first of all, by the amount of information i've already gathered that i haven't touched, and second, by the sheer amount of people in this work. is this kinda why i fell off the train last year? when i realized there are thousands of clown troupes roving around the world, living my dream??
BUT REMEMBER - if them, why not me? don't forget that xmas revelation!!! that was a big one. if people are doing it, why can't i be one of them?? because i'm afraid of not being as good as them OR of not being original enough. it seemed like a better idea before i realized there were thousands of theatre clowns. BUT ALSO REMEMBER - as we learned from our trip to dell'arte, much of what these clowns are doing is not exciting to me. they're doing a different thing, they're on their own journey. that's why i keep coming back to POCHINKO and the CLOWN FARM and canada and i know i have to go there. i have to write to john, said donna. i have to call donna back. why am i avoiding these things???????? fear of failure, probably. goddamn that one.


i just got lost on a goodreads trail for like 30 or more minutes. what hte fuck. i didn't want to and i don't want to. i have nO SELF CONTORL!!!!!!

damn dumb

i've opened a beer but i'm out of lives on candy crush and also on two dots and that means i have to find something new to look at on the phone or try to be in my body in 20 minutes or however long it actually takes to drink a beer - does anyone know?
i'm sick with shuffle playing love songs. i want the passion but not the subject.
i tell myself it's okay, today is so and so, this isnt time to quit or even abstain. as if the day exists. what a fiction ! does adderall make my memory worse? could it get any worse?
(maybe i didn't know before... i'm not good at remembering the specifics but i can feel changes - or maybe i was always doing these physical things but my brain was pinballing so fast i didn't take the time to observe the physical stuff except every now and then? (oh wait your toes have been crunched up for maybe 30 minutes and it doesn't feel so great.))

run with the wolves and make art

respond !

be wild

be stupid

if you're thinking too much you're not able to be creative

don't use fear to avoid the river

work EVERY DAY no matter what

notebooks. pens. pockets.

get the fuck off the internet

fucking today why

saw on the calendar that today is the new moon. it's june. which means that today is the one year anniversary of chris cheating on me (to my knowledge) and also leaving me. no wonder i have felt like hell all day. and now my heart is racing and my mind is fuzzy and all the other stupid shit that happens when i get triggered. my throat closing. my eyes blurring. the whole deal. i just want to lie down but i have so much to do. i guess it's better to stay busy than to wallow.


also my cat has been gone since before the storm last night and i'm very worried.

why in the fuck do i think i can be everywhere at once
why can't i pay attention when people are supposed to listen to me
why can't i pay attention when i'm supposed to hear anyone



what the fuck is wrong with you.
why do you sound miserable and whiny all the time.
no one wants to be friends with a depressive or someone who is constantly complaining. this is not news.
you look back at the night, the day, the week, the month, and you remember conversations but not where you were. like your mouth just opens and the shit flies out without you intending it to.
maybe medication can fix this.
how the fuck do you fix this? being unintentionally negative whiny complaining. being never in your mind or body. being automatic fool forever. how the fuck do you fix something so far gone

to try to write a line

i've made a home out of my chair
a cave in my room
it's not as if i don't care
it's just i can't move



i get mixed up
i feel fucked up


i put the pressure on it. i thought maybe if i got to this place after two beers and some smokes and a bug collaprsing on my shoulder and a possum in the bush and the smoke in my eyes and the bugs dancing around the light i thought i could set the mood and the keyculator would work its magic. it doesn't hmake the magic. the smoke blows back into my nose and eyes while i type and it's not very fun. this is not a glamorous life. why does this bug want to keep dying on my shoulder? flailig on the pavement, then my shoulder, and repeat.
i'm astounded by the things i don't notice. i think of myself as an astute person but i'm barely awake and living. there's so much in my head i can't stand. i've made my own undoing.

the day is new and fresh with life
i've seen all my mistakes
there's no reason to return to strife
now that i know the stakes

at the end of the tunnnel
at the other side
if i can get through this
if i can keep a ride
there's nothing at the bottom
there's nothing at the top
there's nowhere like a button
to keep you in your lock
they'll try to blame you
they'll try to tame you
they'll try to change you
they'll try to frame you
you were there in the chair. you were there and you were thinking. you were thinking you were sitting you were waiting you were wanting. you wanted everything. you saw everything. the visions came and stayed. you wanted it all. and you wanted it all at once, right now, here, instant, evolution, propulsion. you were sitting and thinking and it wasn't ever going to be good enough. you had plans but you couldn't figure them into action at the same time. you had dreams but you surrendered to memes. your body sinks and shrivels into a familiar cushion dent. you know you came but you haven't went. your hand finds its familiar place picking at your head. your hand moves to your mouth and your fingers taste like lead. the crashing in the bushes creates rushes down yr spine. you tell yrself it's nothing but yr afraid at the same time. when all you want's a possum but the humans run yr mind. please be. please don't be. please be. please don't be.
i think the trick is not to look.
i think the trick is cricked crook.
i think i want a fishing hook.
yes yes it's true hte words come fast
when yr eyes arent on full blast
the light's deceptive, bright, and cruel
sending yr brain straight back to school
and what a hell and what a mess and do your best and get recess
and yes plese keep on that new dress
and wonder why yr hair's a mess
lady lady lady lady lady
wherefore art thou
lady lady lady lady lady
screaming as a cow
the sow without the baby
the screaming of a lady
the sow whose stolen baby
flown off to run rain yr meat


don't let yrself think about it
just keep going
yr in the drinking
yr into thinking
there's bugs that's flying
and bodies sighing
yr own is wanting
you feel it haunting
yr tongue is heavy
yr fingers steady

best of all i love that darling maiden
who is standing at my bed feet
best of all you laid the bed you made in
and curled up yr own bed sheets
you wish you never thought again
you wish you thought it all
you wish you couldve again began
beofre this same damn fall
now the lights have run past their scene
and scattered the critters gone
and even if it means it's time for me to leave
i'll be damn sure those lights turn off
come back my friend the possum babe
come back my friend raccoon
come back my friend the little junebug
come see if we see the moon



finally the lights are gone
andf finally w're free
and finally my mouth is open
for finally my words can sing


now here a different problem.
the woreds in the air and myh hands move along them
the clouds in the skhy and the beer in the cup
no one ever concined yyou about growing up
it all semed a plot and a ploy to fall in
why not canter, why not banter, why not never fal in
i'm still not convinced they've got more in their cup
when they're winsome, when they lose some, when the grown ups grow up

as if i can keep cracking my neck to make thw ords come
as if i can keep asking the mirror make me handsome
my pants could light a fire but never if i got some
imagine if i wasn't the loose change that makes you choose one
what a bitch what a bitch to epxect others to seelect
what abitch to expect others will select
what a bitch to insist that someone edit
what a bitch in our midst ther's no closer you can get
alright ibreahte you
alright i hear you
alright alright
there's no going over

ifthe truth is that everyone is borede with you
how are you going to wake up
if the truth is that you have nothing to say
how can you
how can you
be better
be better



i've made a home out of my chair
a cave in my room
i've cradled something i can't bare
i've shoulderered too soon
i've gone off the goose
but you know there's no pan



and in the screams of the night
how can i make it right
my hands clack along
i cant write a song
i cant find a way up
i cant find a way out
my fingers crack and coil
my mind shuts a shout
there's nothing i can hear
there's nothing i left out
if i could only stand up
i'd know what i'm about

if i can' tbegin
if i can't begin
if i can't begin

some days i dream i have it all
some nights i dream i never fall
some skies i scream to build a wall
some times i know i scribble scrawl
some things i know i can't recall

i had teh memory ocnce but it's gone
i had the mission once but oh god
wishing i was just living now
stood up once but then i sat down


listen i saw it
lithe light i saw it
listen i remember a thing no one taught
listen i learned a new thing i forgot
if i can see it i can be it
if i can know it i can go tehre
if you can see me that could be me
if you believe me i can be me
keep kissing keep kissing all the hard joints
keep missing keep missing all the true points
th
i've seen the light and i want that bright
i want that shine and i'll make it mine
it's easy now that i've tried a line
this greasy cow and its medicine
just give it hope and i'll give its shine
the ducks apluss with turpentine
you well remember tasting old wine
you wish you weren't so serpntine

how how how
if only if only if only
a click to say the longest feels
a clack to replace healthy meals

i don't feel like i'm living. i can't remember when i last did. i feel like life is just a thing that is happening to me and sometimes it feels like i can't keep up with it, and sometimes i wish it would catch up with me. my brain has been so frazzle scattered i don't know what i'm doing or what i've done. i feel like that is a main part of the problem - i am so unfocused i can't be where i am. i can't do what i'm doing. sometimes the only things i can focus on are the things that make me feel least myself, or least alive -- what the fuck is that about?? why is it easy to focus on a fantasy novel, or candy crush saga, or television, but if i'm actively doing something, the whole world scatters apart and nothing will line up in my mind and i feel insane doing anything. i can't even focus on my own feelings enough to be in them....?! like i didn't want to go to rehearsal and i was feeling awful about the play but when i got there i just turned on goober mode and acted silly but we didn't get anything done and i didn't act like i cared about it at all. what the fuck is wrong with me.

i guess saying things like that isn't going to help. i'm just so tired.

after the flower moon party, on judy's porch

i find that i literally don't have the words taht i need.
this is nothing new. i've said it 10000 times. that's part of et problem. i say it for so many situations. it is true but the nuances are hard to me to define.
right now. i want to sincerely say oh i hope you're having a good time and that's why you might not want ot talk to me but everything i try to say think of saying comes out passive aggressively in my mind, in my type. how can i be kind? can i never be graceful?
maybe i should go and work on a letter instead of waiting for a call.

other thoughts.

i came out onto the porch to find myself in the window of the full flower moon. she's behind a tree now, i can see the peeking but before, my timing was bperfect. we were aligned. i could feel her looking at me. (yes i'm that selfish.)

i have the impulse to clamber up stairs with all four limbs and i do it as often as possible - in homes only - usualy alone and unseen. so no, not as often as possible. my exaggeration makes me a constant liar.
it is the closeness of the floor and the fully body movement and
somehow
better than when i run up on only two feet, the too quick pitpat of bouncing hair and breasts.
clambering they swing, as they should, if they must exist at all.
then comes the part where i try to define my feelings about my breasts and find it imposssible because of the shifting shifting thougthts and how hard it is to think about them at all sometimes that there is no way to make a true statement. sometimes i remember that women name their own, that their connection to them is more than inconvenient sacks, and it shocks me into the remembrance that my dysphoria exists, is real, runs deep, despite how i push it to always away.

i try calling again. i'll give it two. three. four rings. i hang up and feel like a fool. why does this power have to play? why can't i feel rooted and honest in the way i feel in so many of my other close friendships? what sets this apart? what teh fuck is wrong with me?

for some reason i'm smoking and drinking. for some reason i can't quite remember.

looking at these tiny ass photos on my phone and trying to choose which one has the best light and the best composition and the best arc of the foot i am grumpy that i'm staring at this screen and not 8x10s hanging from clothespins in a dark room - why did i have to be now - why are my retinas burning and corneas damaged from staring always at these screens
why am i always saying the same thing
somebody make me write a sonnet
how many chances can i get to say it

patterns - when i look at what i shouldn't

my skin gets cold
my vision blurs
my heart jumps
i feel fuzzy
i feel dizzy
i feel broken up
i feel useless/worthless/pathetic
i feel angry
i feel unsteady
my whole body tenses
time stops
i can't focus
my eyes dance around - i can't focus
i feel hell
i hate myself for looking
i get intrusive visuals of them fucking
i feel like the world is closing in
when i see his eyes i feel trapped
i become small
i try to disappear

rage rage rage
i hate him so fucking much
i just want to spit on his stupid face

i fear the patterns i developed because of him, the ones i learned from him

i want to change
i want to be free
i want it to be over
i feel desperate
i want revenge
i want him to hurt
i fear these feelings
i fear what this has done to me

GIVE UP GIVE UP GIVE UP
no one wants your words

tiny fragments of a dream

the little village of fairies(?) is slowly being possessed by bad fairies / demons. you can tell by their infinite cold eyes that they're gone. i've gotta stop them without them knowing that i know !


earlier in the dream - bekka showing me their house and some kind of escape hatch out the garage door. i remember they asked for me suggestions for improvement (or something) and i said something really obvious that they already had or were working on and they laughed at me. it wasn't mean but i felt silly.

why tho

i came home after two beers with a headache and i didn't care, i had two more, for the first time in at least ten and two days and is that good? am i better? i've been so miserable mad pathetic i have nothing to give. i am thinking of being dead and what ease. maybe my dream was prophetic or maybe i should be proactive. i don't need this beer that i snuck for. i don't know why i need to sneak. i crave the game. (there are so many better games)

how does everyone just make their stuff and do their things and it seems
not easy
but possible
how is it that everything to me looks like anti itself
how is it i am even still here


goddammit if you go anywhere

it takes so much strength in this state not to say it




did i write it? i don't remember.
when i came home after 2 beers after 0 for a week i felt
yuck not sleepy but tired probably could sleep but why bother when i could have another
prowled and pranced
kissed dogs
avoided questions so that old biddy wouldn't have to answer I HATED THE MOVIE I HATE THE COMPANY I HATE ALL THINGS
wasn't it supposed to get better if i wasn't drinking ?
wasn't it supposed to be booze that made my mind lo go ?
i borrowed the beer and i don't know why
i feel like all hell here by myself with: yes i did, there were two more beers, so four and i'm a wreck
the impulse is
tell yr wreck
text someone
let them know what hurt you or if it's late enough only how hurt
i'm trying to not
i'm trying to stop
if i'm true
how i have forced my sad feelings on everyone everyone everyone i know lately
- i used to be so much better at hiding -
i got it in my mind - it looked like - expressing would be better
i thought i saw it
i was jealous
all these people sharing sharing sharing and
!
there they go how
even i've seen them
so yeah okay so what's even real
so i try to let myself feel that impulse
and i'm just idiot speak a fool unhappy garbage tongues or beating down these closed doors or near nonverbal at the shore
i hate it i hate it how i could kill it
is it my turn

im supposed to back off but its hard
especially seeing f like this, yes hi, yes i drank it up
why am i nicer now
that wasn't the deal
why is it i grow meaner every day and seems like more when i'm sober


here is the feeling where i want to call them. this is probably also the thing that tomorrow i would say - why the fuck did i call them so late. how dumb. here is the thinking i will try to say.
i'm trying to keep my distance but it's hard so hard. i thought about saying something. i thought about typing true words. then i remembered im doing distance but by then i've started to open the window so i think - might as well check. and look. there is your sweet little face, you've seen and you know and still you don't speak. FUCK how it KILLS. what the fuck have i done what the fuck can i do. how can i ever make anything okay. i think - just tell them quick, the true thing, or no that's too honest or hurting or boring, no so tell another line - but no i said i wouldn't. because yes that's all i have done for two+ weeks now and i haven't gotten anything back. the method fails. i have failed. again again again.
and even still i think - if i can't have texts that work maybe i can just call and speak clear or even if not that my missed message will be a signal - the one saying i miss you and i want you around and i love you and -- pretty much the things i've tried to say with typed words on a regular basis.
they are too much or they aren't anything.
what a fucking fool.
tonight i'm glad i didn't call. did i make myself understand myself?
i'm always waking up and checking and oh fuxking gods why why why did i call at 4am what was i thinking what is wrong with me
yes yes everything yes yes kill it
i have the hardest time believing in t

death dream

visited by a brief vivid vision of Death this am - so vivid it woke me up at 730am. i only remember the very end. i had expressed the fear to them, "brett thinks when you die there's just Nothing next." they seemed to smile even though they were cloaked and had no visible face. brett and i are lying side by side on the ground. there's no pain or anything. it's almost like it's just Time To Go. we're as ready as we can be. Death tells us it's time. i start feeling different almost instantly but it's gradual, not harsh. my vision is dimming but my body is filling with warmth. the feeling is of comfort. i start to smile but say "wait!" and reach for brett. he folds into me and we hold each other, grinning, dimming. Death peers over me, the inside of the cloak is still a darkness with no face, "does this feel like Nothing to you?" and we are letting go and it feels like fading out and tuning in at the same time. my mind is joining the infinite universe and i'm saying goodbye and hello. and then i wake up !

dream and doings

well i did it again and took a melatonin too late so i'm having a damn hard time waking up and getting out of bed. so much for "fresh and bright" or whatever i said last night. so funny bc sometimes it feels like the melatonin doesn't do anything and other times it gives me crazy dreams and i'm groggy all morning. whaaaa. what's the perfect time to take it? midnight is too late for waking up before 10. (also i didn't actually go to bed till 2am woops)

did have an interesting dream where i got to hang out with will toledo (aka car seat headrest) at the furry convention except that it felt like it was at a commune in the woods - not one i know. maybe mostly like twin oaks. i think i approached him first but somehow he recognized me from seeing a video of me online - sounds like it was a shakespeare parody actually. we wandered around together awkwardly, trying to figure out where i'd left my clothes so that we could get dressed up for karaoke night. we found brett and bosh stationed on a low roof next to some wide tall stairs leading into a building - in this spot on the roof they could get the attention of the folks entering the building - they were giving away tiny plastic figurines and they were serious about it. we couldn't get them excited about karaoke (not yet anyway) and they clearly weren't impressed that i had befriended will toledo. of course the dream ended before karaoke but i remember i was struggling to come up with a song - something i could belt for sure but what ?

as i was waking up i kept reminding myself of the name of the youtube channel that had something to do with both furry and car seat headrest. but it got blurrier and even half asleep i realized it made no sense. (carseatfurcon?) plus willikers was standing on my head.

now i really do have to get up and do the day. i should be leaving already to walk the dogs. i keep getting to them late and it makes the whole day feel shorter. i guess maybe no melatonin tonight?? but how does anyone sleep?!

dead

i don't want to be looking at a screen in this harsh light but i don't know what else to be doing. i want paper but i don't have it. i left everything in the other room and i don't want to interrupt brett and rex bonding and talking sex stuff bc i know it can't happen if i'm around. now it seems also i have the toots. so there you go. i don't know why i'm still awake. i mean i do but do i ? i've been sick and wanted to not. jeebers cries how many of these pitiful journals can i write. how do i know if i'm even alive.

my words feel so inadequate for what i mean to say

this hell scream

here i am way too late reaching out for nonexistent connections when all i really need is paper paper paper. i need to share and no ones there. it's too dark actually to write right here.

some man with curly hair and mountain talk put his hands on my legs, said "you look good tonight," said, "i like your skirt," so i spent my evening being nice while putting myself at a distance. what could i do. i did my best. what could i do. couplet i have done more. what could i do better. what could i not fail at. what could i
how could i not
how could i

keyculator dam disaster

theimmediaten probelmwith this chairn is tehs nsteeri ng wheel.. fuc,ing.

everye fucking time i close a door
every fucking time i close a door
every fucking climb i chose before
every fucking time an open door
it's here
i can't see anymore
okay
it's okay
it's better
it's better not to see but fast
but fast
the keyculator
the atic
okay
thank you dear one

i just saw january baby on my bookshelf in my room who has been there for who knows how many years somehow i just saw her for the fierst time since coming home
these are my eyes
these are my pathetic eyes
finally i was able to say
thank you
thank you
but where were my eyes before
where did i think she was
where did i think i was
how do i know what i was without her
my little external soul
well
well
arent we lucky to have so many external souls
little bits and pieces we can scatter
arent we witches lucky
let's keep mixing
this is the pot
this is the mixigt pot this is the potion
i make myself into you this is the potion
i am infecting you
this is the potion
i am inflirtrating you this is the potion


i like to sneak i like to creep
i like to hunt i like to haunt
i like to fly i like to leap
i like to sink i like to flaunt

who has a heart


whose is it

the cat comes in the car as the neighor porch light blinks on off on off every time a car passes but
but hello kitty
scratching it all up i love it
scratching it up and my fingers so faimliar
this is the only way out here to write in teh dark

i just checked and again i'm sure
this is the only way to write in teh dark.


remember how many words we actually accidentally destroyed
and we stil feel the pain from this loss


in the dark we're still typing and still fighting the cause
not winning we're sipping cheap booze & cheap talls
instituions out there think theyre too big to fall
but they're not accounting a fight from the smalls

we trash talk we lip lock we jay walk for miles
we dumpster we live learn we long fur & smiles
don't you think yr gonna catch a crow's nest full of fools
if you think yr safe from it, the joke's on you
come into the possum den and watch how we make brew
look at what you did instead and realize yr a tool
hahaahhaha
oh boy okay

they said
it was like being in a house full of ravens
they said
people with adhd often interrupt someone else in conversation

is this response a crime?
is it a diagnosis?

listen especially because
i want to be good at listening
i don't want to be the probelm
i am trying to show my




herees the deal
heres the deal
i want to be good who doesn't wan to be good
but
it's hard
i find
i become aware that i am hurting you
even when i don't mean to
my sounds are too much
my voice is too loud
my memory is awful
my hlifes over crowd

and here is this cat that has soethinhg to say
\he's rubbing his face
all over th kays

and here is the point when i ask myself plain
can i honor my words or break them again
do i drink one last drink and keep on this train
or go to bed now to ease future pain

THE ANSWER THE ANSWER THE ANSWER WHAT IS IT
i'm not sure i heard it i'm scared that i've missede it
the truth is there's nothing there's nothing that's right
and the ghosts with the most only find you at night

have i answered myself
have i made it okay
can i say fuck it and throw it away
HOW MANY TIMES CAN I SAY FUCK IT
WHEN DOES THE BODY SAY NO
I KNOW THAT THE BODY SAYS NO
WHY DOESNT MY BODY SAY NO
i know
it's true
on some level i am a vessel
i used to think it was a secret that i wasn't allowed to say
i pretended that the messengers were the ones who would be mad if i told about their presence
when i know now it was just a cover up for my fear
my huge huge fear
indescribable fear
who gave to me this fear
it was not these friends who knew me so long and carried me so far
it was not these ones
the fear comes from this specific hell
and i felt it so long and so much and i want to be rid of its poisonous touch
and probably these rhymes which just billow and gush
and the way i am sure nothing matters past dusk


i'm sorry i cut you off. i'm sorry for all the time i wasn't listening. thank you for keeping me going even when i didn't konw it. thank you for not letting me drive off the road. thank you for not letting me kill anything (much - i know there were bugs and butterflies and i feel it too and i am sorry but i know that it could have been worse)


i pet the cat the good soft cat cat . he has a lot of demands. he doesn't want to chill here unless he has a flat lap. it has to be a flat lap bigger than mine because my hips arent wide enough and i never sit flat enough and i never seem to be able to stay still and i can never take my mind off of my fucking self and i am obsessing and fretting and horrified and diseased and there's a monster you cannot see and i know he knows theres a better lap somewhere so he'll never stay vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvcccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccx v
unless he's published somewhere

it wasn't nice bc he bit me
i don't know what i expect

i relly cant tell if yall condone this or not. but i know there's something special about sitting alone in the dark. i don't want it to be this poison that it takes to get me there. every time i feel it i dont think i'll last the year

the thing is i know there's too many messages. i don't shut myself away from them often enough. this is almost your only time to reach me. you send signs. sometimes i see them and sometimes i'm resistant. sometimes i experience the things they call "adhd" or "gad" or "ptsd" and the message dissipates. i wantedc it i wanted to hear it i wanted to see it i'm trying i'm trying. oh am i trying????
there are so many messages coming at me, and i really do want to hear them, i want to hear everything, feel everything, i want it all. I WANT I TALL. i'm listening i'm trying. i'm never going to be good enoug listener OH RIGHT ALSO I'M ALWAYS TALKING OVER PEOPLE EVEN WHEN I DONT MEAN TO. what do i do what do i do what do i do.
the question i sdo i really need another
how long do i sit witht his
okay i;m turing off teh msuc

iit's a song i love but it isn't appropriate right now.

i'm ready though
the amazing train
its always voice singing to our memphis night
to our track south night
it might be singing get out but we hear a lullaby
i've never heard anything else like those tones
those tones
like nothing else
those tones

i get this feeling like
someone some littel fool is dancing on top of my head and i can't see or feel them
i get this feeling like everything is a joke
what a mess what a mess


is the train just saying go to bed??


did the train ever really mean thiat??

the train say syes jnow.

yes in response.
i don't know if i'm ready for that to happen.

and when youve scared yourself
and when youve scared yourselvef youre scared the others around you

and youve broken thee clown rules
and you've broken the rules
and now you have to say
you're welcome
because it's against the rules to say i'm sorry

and sometimes you feel so loud and you take up too much space and you want to drown
and sometimes you feel like a nothiness thing that could probably stop existing at any moment as long as enough people don't see you at once
and you're going and you're gone and you're fading and you're on and you don't know where to be except ohohohohohover on the outskirts on the edge like a cheese ball like a racket like a noise club like a sunday jacket like a hag gone ragged like yr
help okay\


are you mad at me for this
AM I MAD AT ME FOR THIS
are you mad at
AM I MAD AT
how can i
HOW COULD YOU
how can i heal this bone cold sickness
without a walk in the woods

the cord will talk to itself for eternity, we dont have to worry about it
these machines will speak and gossip just all of forever don't worry

why
why
why can't i write any damn thing without worrying about its future
katherine is sweet to tell me i'm good at being in the valley of despair
but maybe i've spent so long here that i've gone bananas
at some point the creative energy has to flow out
you have to make a thing or start over
i don't know what i've done
i dont know what i've said
i messed up when i got the beer
insteaf of going to bed

i dont konw how to stop
i dont know when to end
i dont know what to do when i hear that tarin a'comin round the bend

and i did a lotta cocaine
just kidding
thanks johnny
i just did a baby
oh what!
no
it was far less
far far less
than the weight of a baby
misicule in comparison
why did i ever say such nonsense

i hear the train a cmoin
it's comin round the bend
i hear the cars and think of bars
where they might've been and
i dont know how to be there
or how to empathize
at least not for a single
i live that 12 pack life

the more i think about it
good fuxking luck diagnosing me
i know i have tendencies in whatever symptom direction you wanna say
but how're you plannin to parse this ?shit
listen
i mean
it's not like y'all didn't try yr best
but HA how i get a different acronym for every different day i come in

it's funny haha like
i receive the diagnosis - oh yes it's chemical, it's hereditary -
and i can start to draw the line all the way back, sure
it can make sense any way you look at it
if you want it to



first of all
i chain smoke in the car
bc i don't wanna go in and out of the house.
it's not my house. i'm paranoid. i try to play quiet mouse.
sometimes tomorrow i'm so sure of my failure, my not good enough ness, my LIAR LIAR tries, surely they know and they hate it and me and there's so many secrets in this family
so i hide in my cave and i cry to my phone and the day is a waste in a trap of my own
bc fuxking of course when i finally come out
there's nothing that's changed or charged, there's no doubt
that i'm doing the best that i possibly can with all that i have which is mostly
nine books' worth of psycho prophesying
a list of letters that scramble and giggle to me

listen
look
i can see
now i know i have adhd
and those of us with this thing
have a habit of interrupting
oh
is that why my whole family shouts and sings ?
is that why our language comes out in screams ?
how we talk with each other like birds in a roost
constant, in & under, our southern mouths loose
and now that i'm out in a public environment
i'm told it's a symptom of the disease i inhabit
and oh
and oops
and duck
and
and
and
and it's true that it's happening when i don't want it to
it's true that i'm listening but my words want in too
and i swear they're only there because i think i'm only responding
not that i'm interrupting or not listening to you talking
where i come from we're talking sitting around the roost
we're yelling and we're laughing and our tongues are wagging loose
there's no such thing as silent circles or crowds to praise you alone
if it ain't loud, i don't want it
i need ravens in the home

it's not entirely true but it sure does make a good story. i'm trying to say. i'm trying to say i don't mean to be mean when i interrupt.
i see how it throws you and it makes me quake.
i see how it can feel jarring and abrupt to be what you think is cut off
or challenged or bones or piece of hide when someone's saying stuff
as you tell your story or the version that's only allowed when your audience is boring

i know
we know who you think we are

wait wait wait
no
that's not it
this was supposed to be an apology
gravy i can't believe it's already 3
but i gotta keep going
and i don't believe in morning
unless it's dark and no one comes calling



i like the sneak i like the hunt i like to creep i like to haunt

why do i feel like you can see me?

i am the death i am the death i am the hell how am i still talking how is this allowed how has no one severed this head this tongue
they want to it's true
WOOOowwwww so emo and still
you can never know what htey want
which one is it
which is the real one
which is the one wanted
who is invited
who gets in the door
who gets to throw down
who gets to lay down
there is a fuzz between them WHO?
pop pop crack
the spine says no
the story stops
how long can anyone sit still?
how long can the body pretend

what does it mean to have nothing looking back

what does it mean

they're looking at you and you know them but you've forgotten who you're being
i can't
remember
the last

oh
maybe
i remember
okay
talking heads bed dancing high while everyone else is downstairs
wait
that can't be the last time
i remember
boat hat beers in the dirty dirty poor and hungry bar
and even then
oh
god
i
oh
fuck
the
summer
of the census
20...10....??? could that be possible?
i rambled about cats
for years
ages
my conspiracy theory about an underground tunnel network where not one but TWO of my cats were devoured for 6+ weeks from my back door into oblivion and back
that happended.
and i sure did talk about.
years
later.
oh yeah and
i'm sure at the slider
and i'm sure at the lamp
and i'm sure i have been a fool at every occasion
is that wanted?
tell me how to be
i
i
i busted up
i bust it up
i dont' know the difference
i want the difference
i want the other space
i want to go THERE
let's go .... o?!
but yeah so i don't do it so good as i wish
and i
oh yeah
i remember that house on tucker
maybe he was dating xoe.?
how is anyone supposed to know.
oh wait
it's only me that doesnt
and i'm still fucking going
(the most pitiful thing)
((i just want someone to work with))
how can i know if i should keep going
how do i know if this is the REAL STUFF
crak crak pop
roolllllssss rols
gimme
okay
gimme okay
gimme okay one more
yeah okay one more
gimme yeah good one
yes never don't yes never stop
keep yes keep on keep forever
tell me
when did i get so into symmetry
tell me when i
get so into me
oh yeah so
kat and i were talking about being BABIES
and how those patterns are still played out
i dunno about you
but i was a fucking needy fucking baby oh geeeeeeeeeez
always skin burning always never happy always crying
but they called me a changeling
and gave me more love than they knew they had
now i'm in toruble
now my glasses call on the floor and i just
i just can't
i dont' know how to call them back
i don't know what's worth it
i dont' know how they made me worth it
i'm needing needing needing
i hate that i need it
i hate the symmetry but i crave it
i dont' know how to not want to help
i don't know how to not find the person who is a project
who is a baby
who is me
who is a changeling
who my favorite illustrator trina shart hyman said was a faery
wow!
but
yes
but
that isn't me
i see the thing and
oh
i am the thing ??
i
even without the mirror i
remember
or
forget
what's the difference even

here. i can say.
it expresses through my toes.
crunching and flexing.
just look
see?
it's a toe code
aka toad
hop along
don't forget
froget
even now they twist and curl and say WHAT NOW WHAT NEXT YOU SAID
oh yeah i did
i said
i know what i said
does that mean i have to?
oh well
yes
actually
yes
because the toes say so
the toes now are twitching
they do their symmetrical dance
(who even teaches them such nonsense?)
we just want to dance
we just want
freedom

OH GEEZ BLAH BLWAH WAHAHWHAHAHAWH
OHOOHHHHOOHHHHHH
WELL
OHHHHH
...
THEN.
fucking
fuckong
fiucking
fucking
fukcking
fucking
ficukihg
fucking
fkucking
fukcking
fucking
fkuckning
fkckng
ficig
ifcnkg
ficnkg
ficnkgi
gdinckg
fink
gifnckging
ifinckg
ifnckg
ifnckgi
fficnkg
fgifdnckkg
fifnckg
finfdkcv
gginfk
fcing
gkdnkcn
v
fg sdouae
oirhoag
eiyoh
oeghig]eiy

youngeoih
oeihgl
youne
oyoije
youen
hojenelyone
goieuone
goyebe
giyljgng
elkhg
g
lkghglkddkd
ghoeiyo
hoiyojnoyi
]y9uoin
io7oujng
eoiyoij
o7o
lyiounl
yiouon

youj
oyoun
youn
youn
 youn are
y7oun
oy
ouojn are y
oyoh a
re y
yo7u
yohoyoj
younre
younrea
younare
hyojare
hyourae
younrea
 the




youhnrae
younare
youten are
tyouoren
yournea the
tyoe
youn
]
aeelelkekeejkekekekeekekek
oyobre
lkekeke
lkenlkghae
kgiun
oiyoijlknlkyk
;iyoun,miyoiu

k

oiyoikkiy hoiiekejkeiekd,weiekflgjfuewjwskfkmnrkle
youn are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the listera worst
you are the listeral wrost
you are the listeral
wrost
you are htel isteral ywuers
you are the listeral  worst
you are the literal wrost
you are the literal owrst
you are the literal oworst
you are the litereal owrst
hou areth thelaitera ost
you are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal owrst
you are the literal worst
you are hte literalo worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literalo worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literalo worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal owrst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literalo wost



loweie
wo shw
eie
hwyea yea yea yeah yeah
wos wos
so
what nwo
yeah oakya so now
okay yeah so now
what now
YEAH OKAY SO
NOW WHAT NOW

oh yeah
you know what now
this is the part where i sneak out out out out sneak quiet creep creak the front door squeak into the out out out into the rain night rain into the car into the mold into the bold mold mobile where i can hear the rain rain rain and not this ... haha you guessed it
let's try again

how do you know when to move?

for the second time in the last four days i found myself fighting my alarm clock and snoozing over and over, not for the usual reason of just not being ready to get up, but having the sense that i was supposed to be protecting something or holding space for some kind of dream meeting. the first time - friday morning i think? - took place in some building that felt very institutional. i know there were people and a story but i don't remember them at all. i just knew that once i woke up they wouldn't be able to have this time together anymore - like i was a conduit for something Other. and i remember at one point the conscious part of my brain, snoozing, saying "brett would never understand this" which of course he denied when i told him.

and this morning something similar - i'm supposed to be protecting something so i have to stay. i must've known what it was i was protecting but now i can't remember. and then some voice from elsewhere giving me the go ahead to get up, "there's nothing you need to protect now."

who is it that speaks to me?

don't remember my dream at all except that for some reason while brushing my teeth, katherine's new favorite song popped into my head (the waters of march) and i remember part of a dream where i start singing some little random melody (ba ba ba baaa) and katherine asks "were you thinking of that great part in the waters of march just now?" and i say i wasn't, but actually HAD been thinking of it and then tried to consciously disguise the melody into something different.

what / why am i hiding ?

keyculator speak

today is friday march 2, i guess it's just after midnight so. i'm drinking beer and i just had my first cigarette after 2+ weeks without. i'm trying to understand teh impulse. i know part of it is teh moment itself but what's teh feeling that leads to it and the feeling that hapens afterwards? tonight i thought i would write some messages to friends inviting them to teh movie at SXSW and maybe even post on some groups about the screenings. or do some research. or even just read my book. but there was a shift, a switch flipped. and none of that productive stuff is what i want anymore. i have been filling this void for years this way - beer, smokes, drown it. i use the time too to connect, talk with friends, hang out. if i'm alone i can SING or listen to music in a devoted way that i don't normally allow myself to. or this- I WRITE. is that what i really need to be allowing myself? the smoking and drinking is the excuse for the thing i want. the honest, the open, the art, the silliness.

do you remember the children's book "frederick" by leo lionni?

the good feeling i've been riding took a dip last night and i'm worried it'll run away and i still won't have pinned it down at all. it's so hard to even believe it enough to say it, or if i manage to find the words, they'll become only that, and the feeling will fade. but now that it's a question it's better to just do it... right?

i can already feel myself overthinking this. that is the last thing i want to do. what do i have? i have these fast fast fingers and i can type my brain better than i think! i can write the words my mind makes up! i can sound like a real me in text! (i know because laylee told me that 15 years ago and rex told me so today and so i have to BELIEVE or what if i lose it or what if there's something important i could be doing that i miss because i haven't done anything about it. you know.)

it's so hard to believe. it's so hard to let myself remember what i'm good at.

BUT after xmas after snata craws and rodent carols and another round of GREAT GROUP i was near convinced, i clowned for myself in the mirror and i was able to get there which surprised me - but why should it? donna said not to look at ourselves to practice our turns and i totally understand that advice. but so often when i look at the mirror and i see this strange face and i think this can't possibly be me or be real or be anything at all, and i just shut down. for so long i have turned away i have pushed my nails into my palms to unsee i have gritted my teeth and pushed breath through to see to be anything else. now i find that in the times in the late night in the mirror i can explore and see what this body can do. i can see how to find the biggest expressions of the face, i can elasticize.


FORGET FORGET FORGET

i forget. i forget who the body belongs to. i froget we frog together. the mirror thing, with the perfect dissociative cocktail, surprises and delights. the mirror thing becomes elastic, electric, fantastic.

the thing that hurt to look at, the thing i could never understand how to belong to, i find this thing, when stared down, goes wild. it can't behave and doesn't want to try. it wasted a lot of toilet paper.

this is only partially a new discovery. the feeling is in the body, some of it is already memorized. it's burning embers in there all the time, even though i forget.

i guess i'm rambling now. the important part is -- i have gotten so tired of beating myself up for being bad at stuff. of course that sounds very reasonable written down in such a way. but the things i'm bad at are things that many people find necessary to function - eating, sleeping, organizing belongings, remembering information, simple math, wearing clothes, forming words, etc. i don't really want to care about being bad at all that mess. it happens or it doesn't. i can't remember the names of important people or pretty much anything i learned in school. i can't remember why i hate mother teresa until i look it up on wikipedia (and promptly forget the facts again, but i remember the feeling).

i remember the feeling i remember the feeling i remember the feeling

i am toying with the idea of applying to physical theatre school. i am considering how to make my body into a rubber band or flower. i want to be able to squeeze everything out of the present moment and explode it out of myself. i want to roll around and jump and shriek and freak and confuse the fuck out of people. i want to present another way to be.

if not me, then who? if not a someone with hardly any logical memory but great arches, then what am i even around for? surely someone out there is gonna do it. surely they could stand some company.

this was all made abundantly clear, several times in fact, right around the winter solstice. as it turns out, that was right when i was completing my first saturn return - and perfect timing to say fuck you everybody, i don't care what you think, i can see so clearly what is important. (reminder of what is important: friends, love, art, magic. this is an incomplete list but you get the idea.)

morgan got back in town for the holiday and wanted to go out to the bar with friends. she picked the so-called irish pub, not knowing that a bunch of us had gone there for trivia the night before (don't worry, we lost) so many of our group didn't come along this time. and it ends up me & brett (& later kat) in the weirdos corner with morgan's most type A segment of friends all crowded into the booth on the other side and all i can say is "YEP here i am again indeed, oh and what now? i'm doing an in depth study of mental health, now that i'm back from the loony bin" and there's nothing like a night like this to remind me how much i don't want that life, with the husbands and the babies and the business casual luncheons. UGH writing that is so obvious i could just spit on myself but no no that is most of the world and i think i can be allowed to write it down occasionally. the important part here is that i maybe felt a little embarrassed at first and especially trying to explain wtf i'm doing with myself, yes back in memphis, yes living with my folks, yes again, but more than ever, i feel like answering this questions is more a nuisance than anything else. i don't really care if they judge me for the answers. i don't really give a fuck what they think, truly. are they judging me for being practically unemployed and living with my parents at 30 and oh ordering another drink this late? yes they definitely are. and am i judging them for being salaried breeders who always vote democrat? yes i definitely am. so we're even.

i'm tired of the waffling shuffling pretending i can play for both sides. when i lived in baltimore i felt like 2 people in 1 body-- a demure, polite, if slightly eccentric, part-time librarian with sensible shoes and nothing but patience, and a barefoot feral drunk at the local anarchist commune / urban farm (except not even totally that because i still had to make sure the bills got paid and be The Sensible One which is not me at all and was boring as fuck).

i'm tired of fucking around with that world pretending i can play along. i just can't hack it.
i know i know i don't have it. i'm far from it. it's been six months now since i got out of the loony bin and came home. it doesn't feel like that long but i know my folks are getting antsy for me to figure my shit out and get a move on. meanwhile i don't want to rush making a decision because that is what keeps getting me into messes, it seems like. but i think i'm getting somewhere this time. maybe.


when i was a kid we lived in a small bungalow house in the artsy neighborhood of town, before it got gentrified. the dining room in the center of the house had 8 walls, branching off to the front hallway, our bedrooms, the kitchen, the bathroom, the back yard. "the octagonal room" was the true center & the heart of the house. at that table, my mama accidentally served us inedible cake decorations at the table. at that table, we grew crystals for SIX WHOLE WEEKS on plastic toys & charcoal for a science fair project. and under that table, most importantly, we made our own world. no fort could compare to the one on the persian carpet, table cloth on all sides, and pillows snatched out of beds. what did we do under there? i'm not quite sure but it was all magical, always, because it happened there, in the secret sacred space.

that's the space i want to create for people. if i am not here to take people under the table, i'm not sure what i am doing at all.

***there are other worlds there are other worlds there are other worlds* and they are all around us**

now i've got 3 glasses of wine in me and i still haven't packed so. i'm annoyed bc i dont think i even said what i was trying to say. or it all come out wrong. fuck all. the point is, i am frederick. (or i wish i were.)

a cigarette is a standin for a moment where i do what i want. as long as i keep sitting outside smoking the world is mine. this is how i've turned the smoke into self care.
and i love to see the smoke.
and i love to love the drink that comes with.
once the moment is mine it's hard to give it up. keep the time, bring out another somesuch to consume.
you look out you i'll write you out the room

once i get to this point it's so hard to stop. by hard i mean - it's why bother why stop now? we might be getting somewhere! like i am still believing there's a place my brain will travel on alcohol and nicotine that's new or at least insightful. maybe sometimes it is. but i've been forgetting, for years forgetting, that i can go there without all that. and i'm letting myself im remembering and it's okay. tonight is an exception and i can't let this become normal again. let this remain the weird stuff. (there's weirder stuff to be had and i need to be "sober" to see it.)

and just one more okay just one more becomes a sneak attack becomes why am i still here becomes a trick against myself

maybe tomorrow no beer is best.

today i was in an okay mood. not super happy persay but confident and ready. i beat myself up a lot for not being good enough at one thing or another - my memory is garbage for one thing. i can't seem to remember all the world things other people do. but i can remember my friends and my own personal history pretty well and that makes me feel very self involved. so last night, today, i was saying, so what?? maybe i can't remember that stuff because i'm not living in the same reality as everyone else and maybe there's nothing wrong with that. maybe that means i'm egotistical on some level but it doesn't mean i don't care. maybe i just need to embrace that i'm comfortable over here and i don't need to try to memorize all the same facts as everyone else just for the sake of conversation. maybe it's okay to make faces in the mirror and try to be in my wiggle body.

i had been excited about the concept of dell arte, then i looked again at the curriculum and the tuition and quickly became intimidated and overwhelmed. then i got settled into this new years mood and felt like so what? why should i be worried about having to perform something new every week and my ideas not being good enough? why am i already putting so much pressure on myself? can't i for once become some silly puddy? haven't i always known what to do? that i could do it bigger, better, more more more? i can see it so clearly sometimes. sometimes i forget, sometimes i remember i've already been doing it all along. i can be allowed to do more. i love to overdo it. i love to make people laugh. i love to be as stupid as i can. i love to forget and reinvent and remember and forget. i want to make it happen. i don't know what else i can do. if not me, then who??

and then and then it falls apart. i don't want to write it now bc writing the first part made me feel better and i want to hold that while i sleep. maybe tomorrow. maybe not. (short version - family is hard.)

debacle

i was already anxious about rodent carols but now it's completely bungled. it feels like everything i'm part of goes horribly wrong. like i'm obsessed with collaboration but i'm potentially the element that is always complicating destroying everything. there's almost something clownish about it. like i really really want to make it work but my wanting creates the complication. is it better not to bother? or does goodness come from the effort? i'm not sure which at the moment. but leaning towards the former.

jumble

let's be real. i have always been a feelings person. my strength comes from my empathetic side.

why has it been so hard for me to find my way ?

some of it i'm blaming on adhd. especially now that my head is more clear and i'm not so depressed i can see patterns better. i focus intensely on something or fixate on an idea for a few days and then move on, for whatever reason. i have not focused long enough to specialize in anything.
it's not only adhd of course but i think that definitely helps with the quickness and the forgetting. what do i do? even i don't know. but it means i'm good at hyperfocusing and concentrating super hard on one specific thing for an extended period of time - and then also being able to shift my focus quickly to something else. some of this maybe is just keen perception. i see all the things. i see the choices that make sense. (in simple logistical situations anyway. other times i'm a dolt.)

the point is.
the point is everything i already know but always forget.
i am a feelings person. i am an art oriented person.
i might be interested in things like sociology and herbal medicine and animal behavior but i have never had the drive to focus on those things long enough to really learn them. could i if i wanted to? sure but then i'd have to actually choose a thing. that is the hardest part.

but when i think about learning something like clown or performance or dance i am just sure i could do it. in terms of my excitement and my confidence i'm all in. it's only REAL WORLD garbage thoughts that crush me. i should be doing the other thing. the real thing.

HOW IS IT that i am still having this thought process even after being brought up on the value of art? how is it that my parents taught me that and yet they scoffed at every nonacademic artistic dream i ever had???? it's driving me bonkers that i'm just now realizing the full weight of this. i feel like other people's folks tend to swing one way or the other, like kat's parents consumed by their research or alice's music teacher folks. mine are some in between with my dad as collector/hobbyist who finally decided to try his hand at writing in his 50s, and my mama hinting at some vague dreams of writing or storytelling or some wisp of a memory of a dream so incomplete it is just dust, but still she's passing it off, urging us to write, to publish, to create, except no don't go to art school bc you need a job.

oh it's just a mess it's a muddle. like the world like all our brains.
and me always in the middle why ??
does everyone feel that they're here?
outside in the middle
not right. not center
caught between options until you're nothing

this must be what everyone feels.
but still for some reason everything is so hard for me. it all takes so much time. i can hardly get anything done. my days disappear. here i am still. driving my parents crazy. no more of a plan than i had in july. where did the time go? everyone tells me i'm doing so well, it's so good to take my time to heal properly, except my mama. why can't she let me do this ?

i'm up too late. at this rate i will want to skip the social shit tomorrow but i guess i'd better not. damn. rot.

riled up write

EVERYTHING IS RUN BY BUREAUCRACY. PEOPLE ARE TURNED INTO ROBOTS BY THEIR JOBS, INTO CYBORGS BY THEIR SCREENS. EVERYONE IS TRAPPED IN THE RAT MAZE. we know this we know this we know this. we know we know we know.



i am sick of being made to feel bad for not being productive.
i am sick of the stigma people assign to "indecision" and being "wishy washy."
i am fucking sick of the "natural" trend telling us that medication for our mental health is evil and unnecessary.
i am so so so fucking sick of cliche statements about "this is exactly where you are supposed to be" and "everything you are is perfect." shut the fuck up. first of all, i am probably looking at my phone when i am reading this, which should be the first clue that it is a damn lie. second of all, reading that while enduring an abusive relationship is toxic. reading that while at my worst makes me feel like i will never be better. all these "self care" words on my screen about being loving yourself and being one with your body and i'm even more full of shame.
chronic pain and trauma force us to separate from our bodies, even from our own minds. reintegrating can be a long and painful process. cliche self help demands that we "connect with our bodies" in order to be truly happy, healthy, good. i say, fuck you. i say, we don't have to. or i'm gonna do it my way, hopping around to punk music alone in my room, not yoga posed on some gorgeous green hill in brand name exercise gear. (these pictures always make me wonder - do these women make their friends/partners come with for the photo shoot? or do they carry tripods and fancy cameras with timers? can you really be "one" with your body and the earth while you're thinking about the shutter click of the camera? and it seems each one of these photos begets ten more. their number is unfathomable. i am beyond ready for this healthy wealthy white lady appropriation of yoga trend to DIE.)
i am ready for many things to die. i have an evergrowing list i'm writing of things that have become intolerable. does this make me hateful? no. shut up telling me i'm negative and hateful because i have strong opinions. there is nothing hateful about having a vision of a beautiful better world based on egalitarianism and love. my world has no room for cultural appropriation, labor exploitation, or a gender binary. our current culture/existence is deadening, it's already destroyed us. every piece of it is harmful, is hateful. if you're offended that i say i hate hollywood, heteronormativity, breeders, you have to understand that i hate the harm they're doing, have already done. what have we created that we can point to and say "this is nothing but good" that is a common and sanctioned element of our culture? I CAN'T HTINK OF ANYTHING. 
here is a list of things i can think of that are purely good--cats--trees--community gardens--books--honest and heartfelt communication / sharing feelings--friendship--love--curiosity--collaboration--i want to say "art" but that is a slippery slope because our definition of art has become so fucked that it's become conflated with entertainment and capitalism and it's a huge mess. i will have to work on creating a list of GOOD ART. this is a big project.--CLEARLY THIS LIST NEEDS SOME HLP.
the point is that society does not value any of these good things. and yet i can't think of any thing else that actually matters???
on the other hand, my list of things that have become intolerable is growing and growing to the point that it is clear that i am simply for the abolition of all institutions, especially the government. if you take a few steps back and look at our political system in the context of the last few hundred years, you can see what a backward mess we have made. our country was founded on oppression, exploitation, and genocide, and it has no intention of changing that model. laws will change just enough to give the appearance of evolution, but the structure just shifts and settles into a different kind of oppression. same old shit with a brand new look. if even that??? and the laws only change at the point in which the people have become riotous, have demanded that the government uphold their rights. things change juuuuust enough to keep us quiet for a little longer until we see that really nothing is different. (a great example here would be the movement from slavery to indentured servitude to second class citizenship to post-civl rights prison-to-pipeline to capital punishment). 
meanwhile the only real change is being affected by grassroots groups and non-governmental organizations whose entire deal is pretty much just cleaning up the messes the government makes. i am always in awe of the amount of labor that goes into the work of putting out (figurative) fires -- think of what we could accomplish if we didn't spend all this energy working on ending homelessness and hunger, if everyone had access to abortion and healthcare, if people had any kind of sense of autonomy over their own lives & bodies and didn't feel like their worth was dependent on their productivity!!!!!!!! WHAT A WORLD WE COULD HAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
it seems so simple to me, so clear and obvious. dismantle the systems, kill the patriarchy, smash the state, etc. done deal, wash our hands, move on. (in fact, i even feel silly writing all this down because these are all things that i assume everyone thinks about & knows already.) however the more i talk to folks the more i am made to feel TRULY INSANE for holding these ideas. and why???? because it's "not realistic" or i'm being "too negative" or even just "it'll never happen so why bother." WHAT THE HELL PEOPLEEEEE WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL. WHAT. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH YOU.
blaguhhhhh
but for the rest of us, if you're still with me, i have a new strategy to avoid mental meltdowns and total burnout. our culture is killing us. the way we live and die is a line already drawn, we are given the illusion of choice but everything has already been decided. everything about the way we exist comes out of a place of hate, of exploitation, of the death of spirit. we have no options. we are already dead. THEREFORE we have become ghosts. now that we are ghosts, we have the liberty to do everything we wanted to do when we were alive. we can be our true, free selves. we are made of magic. literally anything is possible.
do you get me? i'm still having a hard time putting this into words. when i had this realization, i may or may not have been slightly manic. i have described it to some people who said they followed me to a certain point and then got lost. i have other friends who screamed "I'VE BEEN A GHOST FOR YEARS!" or told me other stories. even my therapist had a story - she knew a veteran who said the only way he was able to make it through the war was by telling himself he was already dead, gone, a ghost. the point is, this is not a new strategy. it works! we just have to spread it, and believe in the ghosts of each other as well as ourselves!
i asked my ghost buddies to help me flesh out these ideas by offering their perspectives and i will include those HERE HO HO HAVE TO DO THAT.

alternately do you ever have this thought train ? i'm getting old and my body is falling apart. my [insert part of body] is hurting/breaking/sick and soon it will be totally useless and then gone. and next my [another part of body] is gonna go. and then, and then, and then. it's all gonna fall apart and there will be no point in continuing when my body doesn't work. i might as well die. but i'm practically there already since my [body part] is messed up, so i should save myself the trouble and die now. i'm basically already dead. BUTyou can stop yourself from having that thought train all the time if you admit that YOU ARE ALREADY A GHOST ! maybe you're having some phantom pain from back when you were alive, like amputees who can still feel pain in their missing limbs. don't stress about it! take a deep breath and treat the symptom like a living human being would - think of someone you really admire, and what they would do, and then do that. and then you can get back to your ghostly business!



i was born with a rare genetic mutation that has rendered me physically and mentally "different." i have chronic depression. i have social and general anxiety. i have attention deficit disorder. i have experienced abuse and violence. i have post traumatic stress disorder. i have experienced chronic pain that i often ignore because i am so used to it. i have been dependent on alcohol and relationships to cope with the trauma of existence. i am not my illnesses but it is impossible to be separate from them. before i had the diagnoses and the names, i had the symptoms. sometimes others saw before i knew them myself. i was teased from a very young age because of my appearance and because of my mental differences. 
at age 5, i was already committed to making friends with the class weirdo - a baby "bully" (as my mom remembers) named rio. i couldn't stand the idea of anyone being ostracized or made to feel "wrong" for being different; i already knew those hurts. 
have i been a great friend? no. i have been bossy and demanding and selfish and mean. but i hope i'm getting better.
i was born in the 80s to two librarians and raised in a world of gorgeous images and fairy tales, surrounded by shelves & piles of books in every room. in our house, magic was real, pizza was a vegetable, stories were worth more than money, and love was the only thing that mattered. it really was a beautiful little fantasy land my parents built for my sister and me. but of course things got darker and harsher each year as we became more exposed to the realities of the world beyond our block. i learned very quickly that my experience was not a "normal" one. i constantly felt judged and ashamed. by 1st grade i had altogether stopped speaking in class. when it became mandatory to present papers or projects to the class, i would skip school or take a 0 rather than open my mouth. if i couldn't avoid it for whatever reason, it was a huge source of anxiety & stress. i could focus on nothing else. i was consumed. this lasted through undergrad and is probably the main reason i will never go back to school.
THUS BEGAN MY UTTER HATE FOR INSTUTITIONS! the public school system was set up for me (and many many others) to fail. the system didn't care about the way i learned or thought or created. it crammed me into the square of the scantron anyway. i became a silent fury, constantly filled with rage at everything that was wrong with what was happening and how easily it could be changed to support students like me. the further i sank into my silent feelings, the more i became targeted by "the popular kids" aka everyone's favorite bullies. i learned that i was ugly, smelly, stupid, gay, loser and that nobody likes a loser. thank the gods that losers come in packs. i gathered us up together and made new realities for us. obviously we weirdos were the actual "kool kids" (quote by me, 1996-1999) and we would not let anyone control our world or dictate our feelings. i wanted to take us as far away from their ugliness as i could, and keep us joyful and united. i wrote songs and made my friends learn them at recess (because we were a band whose instruments were sticks, trees, and voices, duh). i got dan ying and jenny luo to watch sailor moon and then hosted trivia at our lunch table. i found the lyrics to all the best disney songs online and printed them out so we could sing them together, loudly, to cover up the voices that wanted to hurt us. i led games of tag and four square where we made up our own new rules. i wrote ridiculously silly stories in secret notes passed under tables, try to read that one without laughing and getting caught. at our after school program, my friend circle combined with my younger sister's for the first time, and i now had a whole cohort to play with. we somehow co-created a mythology about a sacred cow who had sacrificed herself for us, the cheeses, and now we roamed the country in our RV (a jungle gym) singing her praises and converting new cheeses. i was cheddar, the leader. we were fully committed to our characters. together, we weren't afraid for the other kids to see our silliness. when i was cheddar, i even found the courage to stand up to a playground bully. i suppose i didn't recognize it at the time, but i had found freedom and power in the act of being something other than myself -- in order to create & believe the new identity, you have to kill your self (even temporarily). somehow all at once i had become a performer, a clown, and a ghost.
by the time we got to sixth grade, the teachers had sussed us out and the four optional classes were divided by type, which, as are as i can tell, are as follows: Ms Sullivan got the brains, Ms Ward got sportos, Ms Buck had the populars, and Ms Spain's class was "Other." we were ally sheedy in the breakfast club. we were the wastebasket of the school and we loved it, and we were hilarious. we were poor students, kids from trailer parks, immigrant kids, bad spellers, mess makers, and jokesters. it wasn't just us - 6-04 was the bottom of the barrel every single year, just as the other kids were sorted into their appropriate boxes. i like to imagine the conversation between the 5th grade and 6th grade teachers as they divvy us up, separating the alphas from the betas, and what name must they have used for what we were? "creative" types? were we supposed to be good writers? (since after all, Reading was Ms. Spain's subject.) or maybe she just waited it out while the others picked teams, and she just got whoever was leftover. 
i have kind of fallen in love with identifying as a leftover.
but even in that environment i was too shy to be a jokester with the rest of the class. maybe i hadn't quite realized yet how we had been sorted so i didn't feel as free as i could have. our class put on a play based on the myth of Hades & Persephone and i was cast as Farmer's Wife with a total of two boring lines, "oh no all our crops are dead" and then at the end "grass and leaves!" this was one of the first times i can vividly remember wishing that i was allowed to switch roles - literally and figuratively - and show everyone how good i could be. "see? when i'm not myself, it's easy!"
then middle school happened and everything fell to pieces. i had zero friends at my new school. i had horrible acne and a frizzy triangle of hair that people liked to put staples in. i think i was developing symptoms of ADD by this point and started doing horribly in school. i was hugely miserable. i became suicidally depressed for the first time. i retreated into words and wrote pages of emo poems that i shared on my art website with about a dozen other poets.
i can't remember why i'm writing about that. i think i've gotten off track. maybe i'm trying to get you to relate to me. (it feels really good to lay it all out in a timeline like this. even if no one else will ever read it. i feel like there was part i was gonna say but i forgot what it was.)
the point is it was all very soul crushing and i started to feel like there was truly no way out. looking toward the future became increasingly impossible. by the time it was time to apply for colleges i had lost my grip on "reality" thanks to the hell of high school, the side effects of hormonal birth control, and a long distance romance, following my first experience of sexual abuse at 17. i was doing the thing people always tell you to do when you're struggling - just take it one day at a time - but i never figured out the next step. the feeling of  "how did i get here? how did i survive this long?" has never gone away.  
in some ways life is much harder now because the institutions are so invasive that their lines get fuzzy and their shapes aren't clear. it's easy to talk about their problems but much more challenging to physically resist them, as opposed to being fenced inside a cement brick called school and every act can become resistance -- playing with the boundaries of the uniform, hugging "too long," lingering in the hallways until the last last minute bell, kissing girlfriends & grabbing each others' tits, unshaved legs in the locker room, sitting in the grass as far away from the building as possible at lunch, developing handwriting so absurd that no teacher could read it, simply NOT LISTENING to teachers. our group never got into any  "real" trouble, though. our grades were fair to middling which made us essentially invisible -- not good enough to pamper, not bad enough to hassle, we just didn't stand out.


i never had my senior picture taken, so i wasn't in the yearbook. i like to think i became a ghost in the minds of most of my classmates - if they remember me at all, they wonder, "did she even exist?"


i still have to remind myself that "myself" can change. i start to feel so trapped about who i have become and what is possible and if only and blah blah. it's hard to remember to allow myself to play, but i'm getting better at it.
some things that help: --close your eyes and visualize yourself as the ghost you want to see in the world
--feel yourself filling up with infinite possibilities--put on a hat or other garmets that helps you to feel you've transformed--go to a shop or restaurant by yourself, in character, and see what happens - it helps to start off going somewhere you won't run into people you know--change your voice, or try not talking at all--give yourself a prompt or a mission, like "what am i bringing to my ghost friend's birthday party?" or "find 3 ghost amulets in the next 30 minutes" or "make someone smile" or anything you want--try not to question yourself. don't think. just do.
actually i try follow a lot of richard pochinko's clown rules, including "GO TO YOUR FEAR" and "CARE ENOUGH NOT TO CARE"

man i'm having another rough day. i've been trying to sort through papers and finding a lot of intense writing from this past year. i'm kind of leaning into the feelings and doing a lot of looking back which might be dangerous but i am telling myself it's important to piece it together and process it. like if i let myself fully feel it now, now that i can actually look at the past without having a panic attack, i can just get it over with and put it to rest for good?? is that how this works ??? 

everything you are is a lie.
i've gone invisible. i'm back down the well, i'm going all the way.

what a mess what a mess what a mess. skipped out on being social again. didn't go to yoga. bligh. just feeling awful. on purpose?? can't be good to stay in and watch sexist tv. starting to feel so stuck so stuck. but also some wild thing in my brain is screaming "it's just that you're a visionary!" that's gotta be it. why i can't seem to find words for any of my thought processes or explain what is wrong with everything to my dad. i come off as "disdainful" mama says. i'm paralyzed by judgment - of myself so i can't do anything and of everything else so it's overwhelming and defeating. how do i kill it ???

i want to make myself a schedule and stick to it, as dorky as that sounds. i really think the ADD hyper focus thing is real.

why is there a car idling in the middle of the road right across from me here on my porch? you are not my uber. you aren't for anyone. sounds like a door slamming and it drives away slow. am i paranoid or ???? maybe less so after the incident with kat a month ago, where in my driveway the man banged on her window and demanded a ride or else he was gonna get shot. my paranoia made me say no. we drove around for half an hour and then she sat and wouldn't leave me until 4am just in case.

my left breast has been hurting bad all day. it's been tender all week. is it just a weird period or something else? googling this shit doesn't help.

i'm pretending again that i'm cutting down with smokes but i'm kidding myself. i have a few good days then some event excuses me.

roll herbal smokes goddammit
work on the papers

lord so many other things on this list i can't remember. where the fuck do the days go ??????

last night i stayed up too late angry and drinking and finally wrote that call out about gratz on halloween. today i had to wake up at 9am bc apparently i'm slow as business at doing anything so midday dog visits on five hours of sleep. i felt hungover and grouchy but i still sang to them. i got home at 1245 intending to nap but i read chris mccoy's write up in the flyer and my energy was restored. spent the rest of the day trying to figure out the wordpress mess i made of the concrete website and whether it's fixable before finally dad stopped it with pizza and netflix. what a grouch i am. but it's still true that steven universe is the only show on tv worth anything. except adventure time. okay.

mama was ridiculous today, probably not on purpose. cracking me up all over the place. my number one clown mentor for sure.

gotta read that clown book
guided mediation and that other body stuff

make a fuxking schedule that includes reading time
i can't stand this nothing nonsense

rage share

i went to my favorite cozy dive bar on halloween bc i didn't feel like being around a ton of people (still in recovery and feeling social anxiety constantly lately) and we were having a great time in the practically empty bar. after a while a bunch of folks showed up after a concert ended, the vibe in the bar changed a little but it was still chill, singing with the jukebox and making fun of horror movies on tv. then the door swung upon and i heard a voice i hadn't heard in years... i tried to convince myself it was someone else. i looked my bff in the eyes and said "please tell me this is not happening" but it didn't click instantly for them. it wasn't until the dude sat behind my friend at the bar next to us that they realized it was the person we used to know so well, who dated and cheated on more than one of my best friends, who violated my consent over 10 years ago, whose friends and crushes stay the same age as he gets older, who is now apparently happily married and childrened. oh lovely. i could leave, but i will not let this person ruin my good time. i continue to clown and laugh and make merry. it's halloween and the veil is thin and i'm feeling good. suddenly a hand on my shoulder, a towering oppressive presence which is DUDE, pushing himself between me and my buddy, with, "i know we aren't really friends anymore, but i just wanted to say happy halloween" or some shit. the words become fuzzy in my mind as i try to comprehend what is happening. autopilot kicks in and i'm clinking beers "happy halloween!" attempting to smile, not making eye contact, just hoping he will go away, which he finally does. but he's still there at the bar behind my friend (and mind you, this a tiny fuxking bar the size and shape of a hallway) so i can see when he glances at us and whispers to his date, and when he's surrounded by so many young friends in his crossdress costume. whatever. i don't know this person anymore. he could be anything. i tell loud jokes to the tv and make a fan at the other end of the bar. the night skips on in stops and starts. some moments i'm fine, i'm glorious, and others i'm staring into the ash tray, begging my friend, "please talk to me, just say anything" trying not to fall into the abyss i'm dancing the edge of. staying is dangerous territory. when the night is near done, me and my bud are counting our quarters and trying to remember how many beers we had, when the bartender says "oh don't worry about it." we don't know what to do but stare at him. what do you mean? "oh DUDE just paid for your beers, don't worry about it." i don't know what to say or where to look. my friend starts to try to argue but i think i must've told them not to worry about it bc i didn't want to draw more attention to ourselves. i'm just blank, gone. i can still feel DUDE in the room. i know i'm being weird. to leave would mean walking right past him. plus i'm still finishing this beer. it feels like forever, we're all just sitting at the bar in silence. some part of my brain is telling me, "just smile, just say thank you" to cut the tension, but i know that would be a lie and i resist the urge to "make things nice." finally finally finally his date comes out of the bathroom and they leave. IMMEDIATELY the bartender asks "what was that?!?" like we've done something wrong. this is a hard question. i'm still shaken up. i start about how i don't know him now but many people had issues in the past, and i'm interrupted. "you know, the way i see it, if it's been over a year, unless it's rape or murder, there's no reason to be upset anymore." i'm turned into a blustering fool trying to validate my reasons. i reiterate that i don't know what dude is doing now and maybe he's way cool BUT he has violated the consent of many women i know, myself included, and never taken accountability for it. the bartender keeps pushing me to be specific, tell him more because it's "his bar" and he has to "keep people safe" and therefore i "have to tell" him what happened. this is a lot. this is so much. each time i start a sentence, he interrupts me. i tell him i'm speaking slowly because this is hard but he keeps interrupting me, "just tell me!" and i finally crack. i can't take it. i am present enough to say something like "i really shouldn't have to say this but apparently you won't believe me unless i tell you that i was recently diagnosed with PTSD bc of shit he did to me even though i've told you he hurt me and my friends in the past and no i don't know what he's about now so i'm not saying you need to kick him out of the bar forever, so i don't know what more you need to know." and i get some response like "see that's all i was asking for" like it was so easy and i only made it harder on myself. it gets pretty fuzzy. i feel like hell. i get home and keep drinking not to think. i feel like i can't ever go back there. i am afraid to go out at all anymore, either bc i will run into the DUDE and also bc it feels like people are so unsupportive of survivors. blahhhh. do yall have suggestions for how you handle these kinds of encounters and feelings?

a text after four months of nothing

oh good.
go for it.
you have no idea.
you don't want to know.
i don't believe you.
i don't believe you.
i don't believe you.

giving up on understanding? i thought you already had.

giving up on everything? what's that got to do with me?
first of all, i know it isn't true. second of all, you already claimed this with your last faux guilty message four months ago. "i don't deserve friends. i'm gonna be alone." bullshit. i sometimes wonder how you (or anyone) is capable of flinging so much bullshit. you'll say whatever you need to get your way. you're barely passing as human.
don't you think i've caught on by now? don't you see that the veil was lifted, burned?

why do you suddenly need to feel absolved? why on earth would you pretend to care now? your actions proved that you never did. you knew i went to the loony bin and you never checked in. you don't fucking care and you never did.

what do you want from me?
what the fuck do you want?

you will get exactly what you deserve.