I'm scared of things that go bump in the night and of the toilet bowl that doesn't stop running.
At 30 I've finally realized I'm mortal.
I still cover my ears and close my eyes if I can't run out of a room when balloons are being blown up.
The ones who understand me love me, but I still feel alone.
I haven't eaten a Nutrageous bar in a very long time.
Things taste and feel and smell different, but not always better, and I think I was cheated and was always supposed to be this way.
I'm mourning and grieving for who I was and who I'm supposed to be now. I've always denied definition and now I don't know how I'm defined.
I think I haven't brushed my teeth in two days.
I don't know if better is better..maybe it's worse.
Gilr Pug turns 10 today, and as I look at her gray chin and her round eyes and her fat tummy I don't know why I can't love someone the way I love her.
When I look in the mirror and see my tattoos, I still get startled and wonder how they got there.
I want my hair that was short and red to be long and blonde and fall in my face so people can't see me.
I miss cooking and crying and sweating and swearing and drinking and smirking and shaking and shouting. But I don't know if I'll ever do it again.
I only do dishes now when I've run out of paper towels to put my Hot Pockets on.
My uncle, a doctor, asked me where I saw myself in a year and I curled my fingers into my palms so I wouldn't poke him in the eye. The same night, another told me he always knew something had been wrong with me, as if that made it all ok, and I curled my fists into my stomach so I wouldn't throw up on him.
I think I'm depressed but I don't feel sad. I feel calmer and zen and centered and that's kind of scary.
I'm scared of things that go bump in the night and of the toilet bowl that doesn't stop running.
At 30 I've finally realized I'm mortal.
I still cover my ears and close my eyes if I can't run out of a room when balloons are being blown up.
The ones who understand me love me, but I still feel alone.
I haven't eaten a Nutrageous bar in a very long time.
Things taste and feel and smell different, but not always better, and I think I was cheated and was always supposed to be this way.
I'm mourning and grieving for who I was and who I'm supposed to be now. I've always denied definition and now I don't know how I'm defined.
I think I haven't brushed my teeth in two days.
I don't know if better is better..maybe it's worse.
Gilr Pug turns 10 today, and as I look at her gray chin and her round eyes and her fat tummy I don't know why I can't love someone the way I love her.
When I look in the mirror and see my tattoos, I still get startled and wonder how they got there.
I want my hair that was short and red to be long and blonde and fall in my face so people can't see me.
I miss cooking and crying and sweating and swearing and drinking and smirking and shaking and shouting. But I don't know if I'll ever do it again.
I only do dishes now when I've run out of paper towels to put my Hot Pockets on.
My uncle, a doctor, asked me where I saw myself in a year and I curled my fingers into my palms so I wouldn't poke him in the eye. The same night, another told me he always knew something had been wrong with me, as if that made it all ok, and I curled my fists into my stomach so I wouldn't throw up on him.
I think I'm depressed but I don't feel sad. I feel calmer and zen and centered and that's kind of scary.
I really need 12 hours of sleep.