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.

The faces I make

I've had an hour of sleep. A lifetime to be a weirdo. Time to tweak out on our adderall because we can't function without it and we're on something like I dunno 4 hours of sleep in the last 72?

My pupils are dilated.

I feel like a retard for yesterday. I really do wish sometimes I could remember what it felt like to be normal.

Although in blogging yesterday I did come to a comparison about Ed/Tom. Very much both the qualities of men I enjoy.

Maybe that's why the Tom thing bothered me so much. I know what it's like to be with  an older man who relishes in life and the same things you do while still being starkly different.

The fineness. The contrast. The imagination. It's limitless. It's bold. 

I need m brain to think of other things today. I need my brain to not sit here and make funny faces at myself in my own reflection to detour from my outline. I need my brain to not make up entire conversations between my cats for them. Although, it is an intriguing part of my day. Seriously.

I have a cat that I got as a kitten, she was a single barn cat some painters found and brought into my job at the time looking for supplies for her. I took her sight unseen. Thought she was a boy and named her Neptune. Funny enough after I brought her home and then we thought she was a girl, she was feral, and not nice unless you were going to feed or hold her, so we changed her name to Melissa. But then and I'm not sure why or how we thought she was a boy again and it went back to Neptune. Didn't ever pay enough attention until two years later she was knocked up.

I have another cat named Herman. Herman was part of a whole litter I ended up with from a pregnant Momma, Now Benga's cat KitKAt. She had five babies, I was already hand feeding 5 other's from two different litters. Then her entire litter ended up with ring worm.The vet tried to convince me to put them down. Telling me shelters wouldn't take them and it's could take forever to get rid of. And it did, I had to buy special shampoo and give them bathes twice a day, and bleach everything in our house all the time. Herman was the first born from his mom and the second I looked at him he looked like a nerd named Herman. At the height of his infection even my Nana was trying to talk me into maybe putting him down. Giant bald spots hiding, rubbed in creams and meds all the time.

I couldn't do it. I eventually found an oral medicine, it cleared up and he was the last one left out of his litter. I had grown pretty attached to the fool.

So Neptune is an indoor/outdoor cat. Everyone is fixed. Herman is strictly inside. Neptune comes in the house to eat and he stalks her. Not hissing or being a jerk, but like he maybe genuinely is never going to give up trying to be her friend no matter how much she dislikes him. And she does dislike him. She hisses and wants to be left alone.

We have a 3 tier glass entertainment stand. She's behind the TV, and he just jumps up on the second shelf right below her, watching her get mad... remaining calm the whole time. I think he knows that hes antagonistic. It's hilarious. Half my day is spent yelling Herman!!! leave her alone!! stop being a jerk! She does not want to be your friend! Stop Following Her!

So as I have no life now, I often narrate the interweaving lives of my cats. As I wrote that I realized I am a crazy cat lady.

This is what I've amounted too. Shit. If I don't hoard them does that take away part of the crazy aspect? I think it should. Well maintained cats. Spoiled. Shifty personalities, the dog gets along with them all.


Officially blogging about my pet life.. This is what kills my time. conversations with myself between a human and a screen and fake conversations and parodies of pets.

And we're all just floating around on a dying rock in the middle of space (not actually the middle though, just metaphorically) in an endless sea of self devotion and ego.

That's the human experience

. 

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...

I got my first FEATURE

So one of the curators of the book I was talking about in the post right below this one... MADE ME A FEATURE!!!

I'm like a geeked little kid again going to the warped tour. YAS.

So I don't know if anyone who would reads this possibly understands the depths of how cool it is in a fraction of a second to reach billions of people with your words, but I'm ecstatic. Like freaking out.

I screen shot her comment when she did it....

I'm not asking you on a date

So I asked the physics guy to hang out... It wasn't a date. I actually was mostly afraid of doing this thing by myself and I needed his brains. And it's something we discussed. So he's in. Let's hope some time next week I'm multidimensional.

While he's hot he'a kinda flaky. Not really my thing. Clearly I'm nowhere near relationship ready anyways. I made sure to specify I'm not asking you on a date...... Good ol grim Melissa... Just trying to transcend space and time and shit..

I did adult things today. Laundry, cleaning, mowing the yard. While I know I'm not near dating ready, I need to do something to kill my time. I've been looking for jobs in my field and holy fuck does the little pay make me want to blow my brains out. I need dollars and I hate dollars. Why does it not pay nearly enough to do the really important things in life? Mentoring kids. Urban youth being my specialty. I love doing it, but it doesn't pay the bills. I'm looking at jobs and McDonalds would pay more.

I seriously just want be a travel writer at this point. And fuck vacation destinations, I want to go hang gliding from Everest and write about that shit. I need to go back to school just for the credentials... Fuck me. Someone pay me to go places and do crazy shit. I still love kids, but I can write about them too. In other places. I want that life. Following photographers up snowy hills, snowboarding in Russia, Going to Indian or African Elephant sanctuaries. Trekking along side children and explaining their daily struggle to get water. I want to Jump out of planes everyday for the rest of my life. Recycle plastic and make homes in Puerto Rico, rebuild.

I want more than this. My soul is uneasy. I want to bang my face into a brick wall. I don't care I don't have a person to do this with, I'm not afraid to do these things alone. But to get money to do these things I have to settle for below slave wages and maintain responsibilities here. I can't do what I have to do and what I want. And my adult ADHD can't function thinking about spending my whole life working away to try to afford my dreams.

Money does't solve problems, but just today I feel like it would solve mine. I just need enough to do all the above. Or if someone knows someone who's looking for a travel writer with zero experience... I just need my expenses paid. I'll leave everything behind... minus the kids. Maybe sometimes I'll leave them behind too. lol

But my dog comes with. for ground adventures at least. God save the Queen. I need a new good book too. Maybe my brain needs to shut up with someone else's words.

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