Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing
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Wednesday, Dec. 10, 2003 - 6:44 a.m.
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
stupid fuck
**It might be an idea to skip this entry and read the other one from tonight when i hadnt moped from 5:30-7:30 am again. So stupid cuz i had a productive day, i drew one page of comics, i did flamenco, i worked out yesterday, i inked in all of "Eavesdrop Boy". And now i'm bumming. only read this below if you feel like reading bumming. if not, go back and read the other one, or come back another day. thanks. me, wench77. funny, but it is really easy to type wenchyy instead of wench77. hehe**
why does everything end up making me sad. why do people fall through. why do people promise things they don't do. why do people tell me they will do the simplest things and not do them.
why cannot i just be happy having a warm home and a doggy. why can i not just enjoy things. why am i so bad at breaking up. why am i so lonely. why does no one love me. that is not a question. people love me. why do the people who love me love always someone more. or why do people who love me end up being incapable. why am i so cold.
why when i try so hard does everything fall through. how can i be so selfpitying. how can i be so full of ideas but no place to put them. how can i be so appreciative of things and not find someone to share them with me. how can i be so lacking in connections real connections.
what is wrong with me that people are always willing to take me if i show up and so unwilling to make effort to have me. what is wrong with me that i lose people. what is wrong with me that everyone that inspires me has their attention elsewhere and wants someone else. why does everyone have a life that doesnt include me. why am i on the periphery.
why am i always feeling like i end up alone or picking up crumbs. how can i be so talented with nowhere to go with it.
i want a best friend. i want someone who is excited to share with me like i am excited to share with them.
i am tired of having to settle for whoever will listen instead of who i would like to listen. why do i have to volunteer to give myself to complete strangers instead of a close circle of friends and lovers.
why do i end up with all these broken promises and empty promises. people who want me but drop the ball. people who want more and more but then give THEIR energy to someone else.
why do people find me weird and eccentric, too marginal and not fitting in. why do i not fit in. i dont even fit in with the ones who dont fit in.
how can someone be so full of life and energy and creativity and talent and love and love and love and only have someone to scratch on my body "I am love". I dont want to have written on my body "I am love" while i cry because the people i want don't want me.
they want me but they forget to show up at the bar. they want me but have a date with someone else. they want me but they have a soulmate, a lover, a bestfriend a mother a ma'am, an ex, a hopeful future lover. they want me to be their friend. to make them a drawing.
they want me to go to a movie, maybe next week, or maybe the week after. they want to go camping with me, maybe this year, more likely next year. they want to take dance classes with me but dont come to any of the classes. they want to have sex with me, before their date with someone they hope really loves them. they want to have a baby with me but not go out with me. they want to travel with me, but cuz i have a car, so they can visit their relatives. they want me to come to dinner, but with their lover, their husband, their wife, their family.
they want me but they dont want me. yes.
why do i smoke the hookah alone. why do i buy a christmas tree alone. why do i go to parties alone. why do i go to the fetish club alone. why do i lie alone in my bed to watch a movie, to look at the candles in their sconses on the wall.
why do i have to beg people to look at my artwork... they'd love to see but they are busy, they have a date, they have the kids to pick up, they have work to do, they have to go to the cottage with the family, with their father, their brother, their sister, their uncle.
why do i bore people with my stories. why do people think my dog is nice but not want to walk with me and my dog. why do i go to classes, parties, meetings, clubs, dinners, alone and come back alone. why.
what is wrong with me and my life.
i'll bet ob is not sitting at her computer now writing how she is unloved and sad. she is probably in love with corncob, serving her Mme, sleeping after chatting with her roomate, maybe sleeping with a new lover, doing homework for a domme, going out for coffee and a beer with workmates. i doubt she is lying in bed drinking a corona with lime... it is too cold to drink corona with lime, i can tell you from experience, smoking a hookah by herself.
she needed me when she was alone in Detroit. But now she has a mme and roommates and a job and a collar. not mine. she needed me to move her. i was a convenience to help drive, to get her settled in, to help her find her work, to find her gym, to make her at ease. to take pictures to woo corncob and other dommes, to do her makeup and boost her esteem. no actually i know she loved me. which is the scary part. if someone loves me and still chooses not me, then what. then what. love is no guarantee. not even of a dinner date or a concert date. no. love is a feeling to some people. i think of love as a responsibility. to care for and cherish and support someone because they are so huge in your heart and you want the best best best in life for them and that means being there for them and helping them out and having fun and sharing your life. not saying "i love you" and then disappear. or worse, give all your energy and attention that you take from them and give it to someone else, and then come back and want more, to again take away and give to someone else.
how many people have i helped out. people HAVE helped me out, but again people who broke up our friendship because their lover, their girlfriend, etc were jealous. Someone else comes first yes. why i dont understand why. am i too bitchy or not bitchy enough. Too stable or not stable enough. Too nice or not nice enough. I dont know what is wrong.
I am tired of giving i want to have something reciprocal and mutual. I want a baby, my baby, i want a family, my family, i want a lover, a girlfriend, a partner, my partner. not to be lovers with someone else's partner, not to be babysitting someone else's baby, not to have dinner with someone else's family.
Even when i help people out, i end up helping out them and their girlfriend, or them and their lover or them so they can have a lover or whatever.
When i talk like this i hate myself cuz i sound so fucking pitiful and whiny and ungrateful for all that i have. I am so happy when i have someone to love.
Why can't i even find someone who wants to hear from me "you're mine".
I wish i had a laptop so i could write sad pitiful shit in bed where i was warm with candles and my hookah and my corona that is too cold for tonight. whine whine whine. Someone should hit me over the head like that stupid screaming girl in one of those Texas chainsaw massacre movies with stupid screaming girls. shut up shut up. no wonder no one wants me.
but that is a lie. i know many people more insecure than me, more whiny than me, more controlling than me, more moody than me, more depressed than me, who have lovers and girlfriends, and husbands and kids and families and best friends and gangs of friends, and close friends. Today someone asked me don't i have 3 or 4 people here in town i feel a connection to and trust.
Well that gives me pause. I suppose if something extraordinarily bad happened people might move their butts to help. But they would move their butts to help someone a complete stranger, stranded at the side of the road too. But they couldnt be bothered to come to my birthday or my book launch. no. they might send an email. an email is not a friend you share laughter and cake and experiences and doing things with. no.
this is getting really long. i am sure i could write like this for another three entries like i did a couple weeks ago. blah blah blah... i smoked the hookah and i didnt read so i thought too much. where am i going in my life. i dont know.
keep busy keep busy. I will put another entry so if people want to just skip back they can i dont know what i'm saying. who the fuck would read this.
i write too much. i talk too much. i do too much. i am too sad when i'm sad and too happy when i'm happy and too lazy and too energetic and just too... like the murmurs i spoke of earlier. "I used to be the girl that everybody loved... now, i'm just too much..." and unlike the murmurs i am not even fucked up enough to be a good drug addict or an alcoholic or a promiscuous fuck the pain away, or go on drugs. i am on the edge of normal. Too fucked up for the normal people and too normal for the fucked up ones.
When I was in highschool i used to listen to music on the stereo with the headphones and cry for hours. Perhaps i could still do that, but my dog would cry. that is not good.
well. fuck. i cannot imagine anyone has gotten to here. hehe. Boy, am i wordy. Everyone else can at least get depressed succinctly.
ob didnt smile once for a whole year when she was a kid. I loved ob so much. i guess i still do. the part that isnt terrified of her hurting me. yup. it is really really easy to hurt someone who loves you... you hardly even need to try. oh well. i said about three paragraphs ago i would stop so i am now. stop. now. me. stupid fuck.
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previous meanderings - future past
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009
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