I just found my old blog.

There’s a comment from you.

I wish you were still here.

I miss you so much.

I love you, darling.

Apparently the way I feel about people touching my body is the same way people who were molested feel. I’ve never been molested. I really need to work on my body image.

Fuck Steve Harvey

So I’m making some life changes.

They’re all for the better and with my winter depression slowly shedding I’ll be able to achieve them.

-Vegan (quit pussyfooting around)

-Get that 2nd job I want

-Clean my room hardcore and possibly move things around

-Get rid of at least 50% (if not 75%) of my clothing

-Once second job is obtained, rejoin gym

-Clean out my car

-Save up money

-Grow out hair, take care of it properly, and resist the urge to dye it.

I would put attempt to make friends in town on this list, however I feel bettering myself and becoming the person I want to be is more important for me mental health wise right now.

Pills Pills Pills

These fucking pills.

They’re suppose to help me, fix me, save me.  I don’t even know anymore. I take them like the doctors say and feel absolutely nothing through out my day. I have to fake happiness to even get by, but if I were to tell them this they would take it way and put me on something even more mind numbing. Something I fear more.

They make you calm.

They make you happy.

They make you “normal”.

I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep. I don’t feel the need to eat for days. And I haven’t. How fucking pathetic is that. I’m already slipping back into my old nervous habits without my daily panic attacks to remind me I’m even alive.

And soon? Oh no worries, soon I’m running away to back home. I’ll probably never leave. I’ll never see the world I want to or experience that love I don’t believe in. And I don’t, but it would be nice if someone ruined that for me. Even if they broke my heart if I could believe in love for just a minute, that would be nice.

I want to scream and cry and punch my fist into a wall just to feel something. And I did. And I hurt my knuckles. I lied to everyone at work about it of course. “Oh I just fell, silly ol’ clumsy me!” And they believed it of course, cause I’m a damn good actress.

Do any of you even understand how fucked I am? No of course not. I’m that cute little girl with the odd sense of humor. I day dream and giggle, but it’s all an act. I present a different human to you than I actually am. It’s pretty frightening I’ve developed this ability.  But the play must go on. Can’t disappointed those fans now. They’ll want a refund on their tickets if the mask is taken off too soon, and god forbid we lose that profit we made.

Hello My Beautiful Badgers

Crushes are pretty fucking difficult.
I’m not built to handle these things.
Does not compute.
It will only end in a hard drive failure.
But I guess for now it’s alright?

This will take more thought.

Maybe I should give up on film and just study journalism like every tells me too.

Don’t you just hate it

when your leg goes numb from sitting in an odd position, and you don’t notice it until you get up and fall? Feels bad man!

drowning
gasping
sinking
come on bitch
get it over with already

Body

Why do you have so much hatred for me? I’m pretty fucking nice to you and you give me this? Really? Thanks jerk.

Rockin On The Horse Sized Pills