Grow the fuck up me

I went and filled out all the paperwork for new job. It will be sporadic work so I'll have to maintain current job status as well

Hopefully it can lead to me leaving the serving industry and possible long term implications.

Talked with Ed. He keeps telling me to relax. I let him know I wasn't worried about the work, just about seeing him, and the very discouraging look he has burnt into my soul with his face and that's what I'm afraid of.

I really can't bare that look in him anymore. I think admitting that to him though he got a good chuckle out of, and it's going to be okay.

Mario asked me to go to a haunted house. I need more details. I'm not sure if it's a date because we did just do the whole sexting thing... And we do get along great.... Or just because I'm fun... I could believe it's either.

And River... Still nearly daily checking on me, and she really is adorable. Can't wait for our date, but I don't know if I can not have sex with her. She told me she's a squirter if you know what you're doing... I'm a woman... of course I know what I'm doing... And she's super artistic and creative...

In my head I wonder if I can just convince everyone to join into a giant poly situation where I'm the main squeeze, an they can see one another too, not without me, I just need to be the main focus.

This is why I wonder if I'm ready for dating yet. Giant orgies played out in head and me getting everything I want in life are what circle my brain. Melissa's secret life previous sex addiction may becoming unraveled.

I don't want to hurt anyone. I wonder too if that's my bigger fear. Hurting Ed again. I hate myself for doing it before. And I know he's single. And when we talked after 3 whole years I think we both agreed we grew up a lot. And he did say he'd like to reintroduce himself... I'm not sure what these things mean.... I'm a weirdo but I do say whatever I'm thinking, there is no room for discernment. There is no vague in my vocabulary. It is what it is. Creep or not. Does that mean he may want to date again?

Ed does really have a lot of really great qualities. Seriously, biggest heart, and funny, and loves the spotlight, tall, handsome, older, goofball. He's active and loves music and the outdoors. He's a party in a person. Although, I'd be happy if he calmed down a little. Ed's affectionate too. Huge animal lover, like equal to me, except he still eats them. My brain doesn't stop but in my defense, I've been pent up a long time. And my mind is a minefield of sexual frustration.

I haven't written for my book since I talked to him. Like I fucked up my whole mojo with this shit.

This is where rage demon sexual out of control monster who at 33 should be ready to settle down now wonders if I should fully explode and lose all control or hide deeper within the depths of my own soul not hurt anyone..

I should be ready to settle down, I really think most of the time I am, in my own way. Or at least have a healthy relationship with someone who eventually wants the same thing as me. Soup when sick. Snuggles. Books. Lots and lots and lots of books. Tea and footsie on rainy days. Midnight adventures. Cartoons. Conversations about space and time, and theoretical physics. Paint. Words. Kayaking. Caves. Parachutes. Wind in our faces. Dogs. Someone who will let me pop their bumps without complaint. Occasionally go to church (even if he doesn't agree) Marriage one day. Trust. Stories. Scotch and cigars. Communication. Sleeping in late and calling into work once in a while for sex. Deviant sex. Lots and lots of deviant sex. Someone who irritates me in the good ways. Grabs my ass when I walk by. Throwing things at me while I'm working. Someone who wants my attention as much as I want to give it to them. Someone who when I'm pissed off just grabs me, pushes me against the wall and kisses me and forces me to shut up. Someone who doesn't care I curse like a sailor. And that I'm a brat who ultimately needs someone stronger than me to put me in my place. Like a caveman. Brute. Someone who loves the smell of a bonfire and a good beer. I need someone to listen to vinyl with. Not just anything either. Classics. Sinatra, and BB king. I want someone who loves the blues. Who will sing to me when I'm mad. Who doesn't care that I have a Rick and Morty figurine collection. Who doesn't bitch when I steal all of his t-shirts or hoodies. Who likes to get out of the house but also likes to stay in. I want no phone locks, ignoring calls, I'm the most important thing at that given moment love. I want someone who wants to learn things with me. Like another language, or build stuff with. Like maybe birdhouses. I want funny faces in the car and equal amounts of obnoxious and quiet admiration. I want someone to ride a bike through Spain with. To climb to the top of Nepal and meet monks with. To meditate in Tibet with. To live.

These are the things my soul craves. These are things I'm not sure if everyone desires, or if it's only my wish list. I want to enjoy life with someone, not just survive it.

Dear God, I would really be lying if I said I wish Tom wasn't/or won't randomly fall in love with me. He's hot, and smart, and funny, those things are very attractive.. But at this point in my life, I am aware that's not the case, and very very very unlikely. But seeings how the eye only see's something like 1% of what's around us... if you could do your daughter down here a big favor and pull some invisible strings... that's what's up pops.

But if that never happens, (ehhh) then could you/ or regardless if he does actually, either way, pretty please with a cherry on top not let me hurt Ed in anyway. As his friend, if more happens, I mean frankly in general, I really think despite the fact he doesn't believe in you, that he's still an awesome human. Don't let me fuck it up.......again.. Also... in the same respect, could you please not let him turn into a blind rage jealous monster that will explode in front of my friends and family, or at work now too? That'll be great.

Also if you could just give me some cliff notes on why Ed is in my life again that would clear up a lot of my mental capacity and maybe let me get back to working on my outline. I need the brain space. I need all the brain space I can get.

On a lighter note, I think a few curators really are starting to like me, and my work. At least my submissions are getting some laughs and attention. Even though it's not my book, it's a book I can be a part of that's already been purchased by Harper Design.... I can get dollars.... And the more of my work they put into it.. the more dollars come.

My brain matter hurts. Damn.

My plagues

So as adults we often fuck up. For me maybe more so than most, I was doomed born into chaos.

I while writing for the book yesterday rehashed a lot of old relationships. Most I have with what I think of as a healthy mentality now.

One has continued to haunt me some. Not in a way where I think I could ever easily describe in words the emotions I feel. I did have a lot of love for him. Confused already being in another nonexclusive relationship with Fake Cancer.

This guy always treated me like a fucking princess. I had never in my life been treated the way he did. Benga provided, I say that because he worked damn hard, but our life was always confusing too. It wasn't confusing in the same way with Ed.

Ed wanted to go out with me, he showed me off, he made sure I had fun. And more than that he fucking terrified me. I'd like to think we broke up twice never have officially being together. They were still break ups.

The way we left things the last time was ugly. Human ugly. Faulted and gross. I was so angry with him for doing what he did that night. The way he treated me. And the more time went on, the more I hated myself for the way I treated him.

He laid in bed one night and looked at me and told me he could love me, if I wanted him to, he tried to, the older I get I know that. We were both messes. I was so used to not being loved, so used to just reacting and not looking to settle down waiting on fake cancer. I was having the time of my life with Ed. He made me happy. He treated my fucked up family and all my friends with extreme kindness. He had a huge heart. Always a show boater. But I kept looking passed him thinking I was waiting on Neal.

When I say we left things a mess, I mean he embarrassed me for the second time in front of my family and friends drunk and disrespected me so hard that I blocked him for years.

But all these years, I still think about him from time to time. So I muster up the courage last night to apologize, I should say before he did this for the second time, (which were never just small inconveniences but monstrosities of events unfolding) a week before I got myself in trouble and lost about $2,500 of his money after he just lent me hundreds of dollars to fix my car. And me trying to hurry up and pay him back was how I ended up with a gun pointed at my head stupidly.

I tell him I'm sure he hates me, and I don't blame him at all, but for the part of my story he is, I'm grateful because I stopped doing dumb ass shit. And that I hope he's well, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry I was always damaged, even now always wondering if I'm too damaged to love.

I didn't think he would read it. I waited over an hour checking periodically. He did. He wrote back.

He apologized to me for the things he put me through. He was falling very much in love with me and having just gone through his divorce, it fucked him up equally. That he thinks about me from time to time too.

I'm not near as hot as I used to be. I don't even know if we could ever go there again anyways. I'm still a hot mess putting myself together, he told me he basically is too, but maintaining.

The thing that has always fucked my head up about him is this. Both times in my life, right before we started dating, I asked the universe to give me love. I was ready for it. To take me seriously. I wasn't expecting him. And after his first jealous drunk fuck up meeting my family we didn't speak for a year. And I spoke with the heavens and asked again, within a week I randomly run into him at a gas station.

I'm not saying he's my soul mate. I'm not saying we're meant to be together. I'm saying for years, I know that I did this man wrong and he and who he was in my life has helped immensely shape the person I am today. That I know he was good to me, and happiness, more so than love, scares me.

I can deal with shit. I can bitch and moan, and glide through it, but happiness, real happiness always seems so far up on the ladder that if I ever really climb that high, I'm afraid that it will be too far down that I won't be able to get up again.

I'm not afraid of love. Love is flawed and gross, and dangerous, and full of misfortune. But happiness, I don't know what that is. That's my unicorn in life.

I'm not sure if Ed is my unicorn. I'm sure he will always terrify me in that way..

But for now, I'm grateful I was able to say I'm sorry, and that after all this time, I know he's good. He deserved at the very least after everything he did for me to know that. That I admit I fucked up.

To know he did make me feel good.He always made me feel beautiful. Likely why I was frightened by him.

Productivity .... Is hard with ADHD

Even sick I finished two chapters yesterday. That is hella good. I did do a chapter today. I called off work again. I may even need to go back to the hospital. I may not even have a job anymore. I'm nearly certain that's the case.

Can't help I can't breathe. But I can sit down in front of the laptop and do some writing. My article is still being featured. Kind a huge deal considering most of the features are illustrations and art related. The fact my writing made it makes me feel capable.

I started another chapter today. A second one because I did write the chapter "The Clusterfuck of a Nymphomaniac" and then to make sense out of it it made sense to do the Neal chapter next. He was referred to ask Fake cancer so many times during my freedom of oppression vaginal rage that it made sense he was the next chapter. Explaining my damages. Explaining how after everything I was able to give it all up. Put the sex addict in me away and try to attempt to live a normal life. Why I had to after his extreme narcissistic traits.

Things I'm still healing from. Not wanting to be the monster he is to the rest of the world. I have two pages done. Not even the tip of the iceberg. And I'm emotionally drained form it. I don't think I could have the chapter missing. It is about me, my life, and for three terribly long drawn out years and escapades of me bending over backwards it happened.

As much as he would be the person I would eternal sunshine out of my mind, It's not possible and pieces of my story make zero sense without this chapter. So while I spent the day painstakingly going through a ton of other bitter romances, and at some times... arousing myself rehashing my sexual escapades, I got 13 pages of chapter 3 done.

I talked to my friend Sarah who is published through Random House, and got some advice from her. I also think since my article is a feature for a book picked up by Harper Design, I can stick to my timeline. My outline, and I can do this. I am capable. I am able. I am fucked up and I believe being honest about it other people will feel slightly better about being fucked up too.

It's the ugly truth. The real crappy things I've done and lied about. The drugs, the sex, the depths. The abuse, the wasting of myself. My hopes my dreams.

He even now, looking back at all the things I've done in my life and the sorted oddness they have came with, he is the most exhausting. I really do believe he is evil. To this day. Evil.

I think I may have to go back and finish his chapter at the end. To not suck me dry from the rest of the book.

It was ugly. More than broken just harsh. A story needed to be told for anyone else living though the same situation. So they know those chains are breakable.

Nothing to masturbate with that material.

I'm a little drunk

I's still sick. I called off work today. Hell I only work two days a week and still was sick enough to call of work and as my Nana kindly reminded me I should likely not teach Sunday school in the morning either. Not making kids sick is kinda in my job description. So I walked my ass to the bar. I haven't left my house in four days besides to go to the hospital and pick up prescriptions. So at almost midnight I ventured out.

Fuck it. I needed some air. I need some human contact. I think I may get fired tomorrow, but really my bosses hate me anyway and I only work two days a week. They didn't say anything back today when I sent them my paperwork from the hospital. I'm sure deciding to fire me. I make like less than minimum wage every week.

I like my bosses. I'm sure one of them hates me. I'm not overly concerned about it. I've lived a whole life of people hating me. Fuck.. fake ass Rebecca is there saying all types of shit. I don't care. I'm just me. Take me or leave me. Rebecca having manager numbers is is as funny as it comes. The bitch went to sell her mom's drugs one time and ripped off her mother and kept the cash. And half the drugs. Shes keeping her own husband around just to be able to get out of the welfare ass apartments she's in that she sells drugs to the woman who runs them. Rebecca is always going to be Rebecca.
On a lighter note....

I did kinda meet this hot chic. Lets hope that works out. Her name is River. I like that. Lets hope she runs like one.

Wet Wet. That's the barbarian in me. Like a caveman. or woman. I did try to apologize to Joe. Who also may be the broken link who watched my blog...

And If it is.... Dude I don't even get it.. I'm like so chill. Ridiculously chill. I'm sure people want dollars from your family and shit... that sucks... But with the story I have tmz or some other shit would of paid money. I hate money. It's the root of all evil. And... frankly if I have it i'd rather it be on my my own accord.

So I'm sorry for including you in the drama. I did write you to say that. I'm so awkward it's weird. I promise.... Its in my DNA. I don't really know .... just a weirdo of a woman. Awkward.

You're poor family must think I'm nuts.

I want zero from you. maybe a laugh.. I'm always up for a good conversation... ehhh... I'm just a weird chic. I don't know how else to explain myself. That's all I got.

I really slightly drunk and got the sweetest compliment from a man ever... seriously. Mario... I dated him nearly 10 years ago.  Things didn't work out as he was seeing someone else but we ended on a great note. I held nothing against him. He was tons of fun. Like a lot. Midnight water balloon fights and music for days and weeks, and paint eccentric things together. He just got me. But he was seeing more than me and was given an ultimatum and I never held it against him. He chose her....


And that's okay...  It always had been but it had always been odd between us us too. We have planed trips together.... and I backed out... I didn't really back out my other decided not to watch my kids last minute because I definitely wanted to go. Spelunking with him. He's got adventure in his soul like me. I can appreciate that. He just said the sweetest words to me.

"Yeah you are a quite a loverly visage to behold and yet difficult to discern like a Dali piece"

I'll keep that forever. Reminds me of a meme that said, she never looked beautiful, she looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to be beautiful it was supposed to make you think.

This guy had just always had the kindest soul ever. And in the best way. We drove up to grand rapids one fourth of July together to go to a city wide water balloon fight. He used to drive and I remember midnight water balloon fights.

Even when he decided to stop seeing me, and it was his choice there was never any bad blood between us.

This guy had always been able to make me smile. His character is unrivaled. And he just asked when he could see my new work... He was used to me painting..I asked what work.. He asked writing and such...

He has been keeping up...

Maybe I'm just lying to myself... Maybe it is time for me to get back to the dating world...


And there was nothing wrong between us except he had his options open. And Hes hilarious, and adventurous, and open minded, and loved God, and a gentleman, and fun. Lord knows most men are not fun anymore.

Men.... and dating... and life.. God knows it's complicated. And women... and dating... God knows that's complicated.

While at the bar today a woman staring talking about cows and I gave her a vegan speech.

Well that's fucking interesting

You know I haven't talked about the whole Tom situation in a while. 1) I'm trying to move passed this. 2) Seemed in general to be an all around fucked up situation, only his brother was really nice (Thanks Joe), but again he didn't ask for any of this situation anymore than I did. 3) I don't personally want to be intrinsically stuck in this thoughts of infatuation. While he is an incredibly sexy older man, he would never be with me. He has a whole life. I get it. I have a whole life too.

Me being me though....... judge me if you want... have him blocked on instagram. I sometimes unblock him and just see what hes doing. Maybe once a week or so. I didn't say I was all the way over it, I said I'm trying to move passed it, he is nice to look at?. None the less, regardless of blocked or not when I swipe to my messages, our old ones would still pop up. No big deal just kinda used to seeing them there. And frankly I personally am glad you're able to delete things because I'm pretty sure I got to delete my drunk messages before he read them. Felt like an asshole for sending them anyways.. but thankful none the less.

I swipe to send someone a message today and they were gone. Completely. Which is really weird because I'm almost certain they were just there. Seriously..... Like yesterday or the day before...

I've come to this conclusion....

If you actually read my blog Mr. Tom, while I find you very attractive and think we have a million things in common, then if you read my blog yesterday saying I was reading the code and IP addresses of people looking at my page.... And then you got scared.... thinking I would know you were reading my blog.... 1) I already assumed you did, Because I had you blocked I assumed you were the person looking from the broken instagram link... 2) I wasn't  actually looking for you 3) I was more concerned with my crazy stalker whom started the now very odd (non)relationship between us. 4) The general vicinity of an IP address does nothing for me. And I would hope as a celebrity you would have a two part authorization code for any and everything you do.  4) Did you get me kicked off twitter for my Red Fox joke? Seriously it's a funny joke... your wife is the most expensive whore you'll ever own.

I just got on twitter... like really?

I think if I wanted anything from you I would of already tried to get it. Common sense says that alone.

Also.. hot piercer chic's girlfriend added me on instagram today. That was weird. Seriously people...


Just because I find someone attractive does not mean I have a fucking motive. People can just be attractive people. I'm just an awkward nerd of a girl. I don't have a mean bone in my body... that's a lie, I do, but you have to seriously warrant me being mean to and that takes a hell of a lot, and I would still feel bad afterwards, and say I'm sorry.

I want everyone to be happy and successful. People need more of that in life. People need happy.

I'm sick, I want some vegan chicken noodle soup. I went to the hospital today. I have bronchitis... fucking fun. And miserable....

I wonder who people really think  I am. I'm a recovering nymphomaniac with zero social life. None. My sexual fantasies, while in plenty, are the extent of my life... that and writing. And I'm ridiculously shy in real life. I am limited to 3 word vocabulary when I see attractive people. I'm like a turtle under attack. Who do you people think I am?

Mr. Green, you are odd, and eccentric, smart, sexy, you like a good drink and vinyl, you appreciate black tshirts and checkered vans, or chucks, and you like to read. You create. You look handsome  in your glasses and frankly we could of been friends in another life. You're the too cool for the cool kids guy. It's why everyone likes you.

I am the socially awkward girl. Eye contact makes me nervous as I think it's intimate. I daydream and like to paint, and write. My head stays in the clouds. I got made fun of at my bus stop everyday and even in high school, by the same guys that hit on me after I got out. I wear black thick framed glasses, and when I do I feel like I'm Clark Kent. Incognito. Small circle. Don't date. I work with kids because I'm jealous they live their lives with no fear. They dance like no one is watching.

Hot piercer chic and her girlfriend, I'm glad you two are in love. I was only half serious about my throuple joke. As I wrote that sentence I wondered how much slang I have actually added to my laptop. Jess is hot. You're a very lucky lady. I live by girl code. Big girl code rule is you don't get involved in someone else's relationship. What someone will do to be with you is what they will do when they are with you. Cheaters are not my thing. Not that I think she would in the first place. She did tell me she had a girl the first time she met me. But my recovering sex addict brain doesn't listen to me, it has a mind of it's own.... all the fantasies that come out are things I can't control. I can try to shut them up but frankly it's best to let them run their course. We could all be friends. I'm not trying to steal your girl. I promise.


But just for you wondering the tracking stats for blogger.. this is for the most part what they look like. I can separate them by links clicks and so forth but tracking on the internet is common.... They have IP tracking websites. So for everyone reading this... 1) I think I gave myself malware the other day from grabify I don't suggest using that, I did switch to addthis which doesn't actually track your IP addresses but just better stats than blogger because of bot views.

So I'm like sick

Like actually sick. I have this bad habit of pretending I'm not getting sick before I do. Like I can feel it coming and perhaps if I deny it's there it will disappear. I don't get sick that often. It maybe works sometimes? Not this one.

I blame this on the horrible joke I made earlier in my blog. Saying I'd get that chic sick just to make her soup. I swear it was just a joke Universe. And I'm chugging dayquil now. FML. I'm still super geeked about the feature. And with that comes the will to write more. But with the sick to sleep or not to sleep. I'm on a publishing high. I should rest, and eat soup. I have my tea next to me.

I was in the store buying medicine last night and as I'm looking through all the different bottles confusion set in. I was officially that person talking to myself out loud in the isle and then looking around for a more adulter adult. Like I had serious questions in that moment. One's maybe I should of thought of before. How is this medicine going to fix both my runny nose and my stuffy nose. And my bigger question was how was this even possible. To both simultaneously not be able to breathe and be stuffy but being able to run at the same time.

What medicine should I get? And then the fucked up part..... which color of medicine? You ever notice red, the better of the flavor colors is the mildest. I'm sick enough for the blue. And I go liquid because it works faster. So fucking gross. And rather than write from my outline I drafted which has plenty to do, I'm here, contemplating eating food and blogging.

And I'm a horrible sick person. I want to be babied but watch out if you piss me off. I parked right next to the entrance of the store last night, closest one to the meds. I grab a couple boxes of tea, contemplate medicine and colors for about ten minutes, and self check out. Not one person helping me. I go to walk out and they close that entrance. Are you fucking serious? That's when the douche of a dude is walking up as I'm now angry I can't get out and have to walk all the way around and he's shrugging his shoulders and saying... yeah, sorry.

To which I yell out "'I'M FUCKING SICK THAT'S TOP NOTCH CUSTOMER SERVICE THANKS"

I'm an everyday asshole. I was thinking about way to describe this in my writing and I decided the sentence to best encompass me is this. I'm the kind of girl to give the homeless guy on the corner money and then scream profanities at the car ahead of me for not moving fast enough when the light turns green.

And that's me.

You're allowed to chug from the dayquil bottle every two hours right?


Also as if waking up extra sick wasn't enough, I lost one of my fucking plugs. Which I tried to wrap tape around to tighten the other day and it wouldn't go in. They have fucking flares. I can't walk around with one in and one out. And I was instantly reminded of how pissed I get when I lose them and why I stopped wearing them in the first place.

Fuckers

Also... Because it's hilarious.. I got grounded off twitter. Not for calling the president and idiot on a nearly everyday basis... but because I made an old red fox joke saying your wife is the most expensive whore you'll ever own...

Such a beautiful night tonight I think I'll kill myself

So that sounds horrible to whoever doesn't know who Jhonen Vasquez is.

He wrote the comic Johnny the homicidal maniac. Also Invader Zim. I miss my cupcake.

It's warm enough out tonight and clear enough I think I want to sleep on the beach. My happy place. Not too many more nights in this season I can do it.

I'm perplexed by my own thoughts today. Why did I go so long thinking because I was good that the world entitled me to Good? It's such a narcassist thing to think.

Even my grandiose view of love was plagued with that. I almost hate myself for it. I'm the epitome of the very thing I dislike.

Self realization sucks. I'm not entitled to anything. I can hope for good. I can hope for love. But realistically that's it. I can't expect it. And if I let that fact change me then I was never good in the first place. I was Self ritious.

I need to find a better job. I need to work more than two days a week. I need to get serious about my freelancing. I need to suck it up and find a job in my field with my license too.

I need to stop fantasizing. About love. About sex. And I should stop drinking, not because I can't, but as all people, I need to stop numbing myself for being less than what I anticipated. I may need to actually grow the fuck up.

I switched my own second septum out today. I should maybe do my own seamless to avoid hot piercer chic.

I need to stop hovering. In this doorway of life. I need to do something. But I don't want to do just anything. I hate that shit costs money.

I need tools to do my own story boards. I need cameras. I need my passport. I need to get my shit together and stop doing everything else. I also need my own parachute. And I need to go to Peru.

I may never come back if I do. I can have all the wisdom in the world but if I only use it for philosophical conversations with myself what fucking good is that.

I may need to start using drugs again. Legitimate.

I wonder what my doppelgangersare doing right now. I wonder how many of them are sitting in a hammock alone in life pondering the same shit. And how many of them apply themselves the way I need to. I wonder how many of them are in happy relationships.

Fuck you happy doppelgangers

We Don't Care about Rules

I've been restless. A stirring of my soul. My dog has been too. I take her on an extra long walk. Where I decide to march right into the store with her and if anyone says anything I'm going with.. She's a service animal. We walk in, no one says anything until we get to the counter. The cashier goes is that your pup?

Yes. and I yell out abruptly "We don't care about rules" ... So much for the planned excuse I was going to use. So we walk the beach side home. There has always been a closed at dusk sign, and no no pet rule.... But it's me we are talking about here. So I walk up to the chain and try to get her to go under it first. She hesitated. So I cross over, unhook her leash from her harness and she follows suit. This girl is geeked. She needed to get that excess energy out. And we live nine blocks down from the main beach where we broke in so she lets loose. Even better, it's low tide. So I hike up my pants and start walking through the water. We get back to the beach in front of my house and take her harness off. Now for some reason, and I've tried many times, she has never wanted to have anything to do with the water... my Lenny Love goes ham. Starts chasing a crane, going a quarter mile down away from me. It's a pretty secluded area. Most of the residents follow the rules. I'm not one of them. So I let her gallop through the lake for about 15 minute and then have to pick my 70 pound baby girl up and help her over the breaker wall.

I don't know why in life, but I have always been a habitual line stepper as I like to call it. Everything is dull and mundane and so set in stone. Even when I sleep on the beach at night, it's against the law. I'm sure anyone who walks the walkway in front of my house and sees me at 2 am fast asleep with my pillow and blankets thinks I'm crazy anyway, but they all leave me alone.

I need a sense of danger to feel calm. It could be my A.D.D. but you know it could just be the rest of the world tends to be to fucking boring and we only live once. When I sleep on the beach though, I feel one with the entire universe. Like the cosmos are some of my only real best friends. I feel whole.
Now scientifically we really do break down to star dust. Maybe it's a call of my atoms to quiet them. No city lights, so the stars illuminate like I'm sleeping under a kaleidoscope of diamonds. The waves as my background meditation music.

I say fuck houses man... just sleep on a beach. And start breaking rules. Adventure is good for the soul. 


and not that they are great pics but here's my Lenny Love in the lake.