2005-09-12 @ 5:34 p.m.....

so.
like.

yeah.

i haven't written in months. or maybe it just feels that way. but the reason why is because:
a. too much pressure.
b. too much negativity.

i figure that i would create an onslaught of hate-mail if i added a picture to my site. Hate. Mail.

but most people would rather enjoy reading the ramblings of a would-be crazy person once they saw her smiling face.

i don't know, i'm just not there yet. well, i'm definitely not here.

anyway, the real reason i can't write is because every single word that flows through my fingertips comes out looking like pure shit. i am disgusted with my own lack-luster thoughts transcribed. i mean.... just look at that. it's all crap.

i can't stand myself sometimes. and so i don't want anyone to read about me b/c reading would be like a window into the filth and grime. it's really really gross in here.

so my friend calls and says, why aren't you writing? i get all excited that you updated and it turns out to be someone else's words.

well, i can't even fathom my own words right now, i answer. i can't even think these thoughts, let alone write them down for all the world to see.

but how will you get out of this funk, then? she asks. if you can't accept yourself, you are looking for acceptance in the wrong place. we love your words and we want to read about you....

see what i mean about pressure? these people, they hound me every day. and by these people, i mean friends, friends of friends and acquaintenances from this community that i used to love and used to feel so positive about, i used to thrive on it. but being in the spotlight is something that i've ceased liking since puberty....

yet at the same time, i want to create something timeless and life-changing. change the world. but not with my face.

how many times have people told me to go into modeling and i just laugh it off. i know that in a purely physical sense i could do it. i could totally pull it off on the surface. but inside - that's where the trouble starts. what looks like an iron core, inpenetrable, is actually a timebomb that only needs one heated comment to explode. i almost lost it last night.

can i swear here? can i just say FUCK YOU to any and everybody who just doesn't understand what goes on behind these walls and between these ears? behind these green/gray eyes is a ball of emotion with no beginning or end and one false move could result in a hurricane of tears.

and by the way FUCK YOU to the powers that be, for taking the lives of innocents every single day since september 11, 2001. fuck you very much.

it doesn't take much and i crumple like an origami crane under the rump of a plump person.

i hate these words. i hate myself. and that is the reason why i can't stand to write any more. every single expression of my thoughts turns my stomache. i can't even read what i just wrote. i'm only writing b/c my girl told me to get it out or else i will keep dwelling on it (as i have been for the past month) and keep getting this nasty indigestion that has recently started. i think i might lose my esophagus if i don't write soon.

but what to write? all this preliminary shit is so gross i am feeling even sicker. although that might have to do w/the steady diet of mini-candy bars and high vitamin fruit drinks i've been consuming since the beg. of this month. i am probably converting myself into a diabetic with this lazy-person's solution to hunger and/or hair loss. my nails are the most healthy they've ever been though. i don't know how i swung that, although i feel like it probably has more to do w/the amino acids in my new shampoo. but i'm no expert.

i'm not much of an expert on anything anymore. my brain has turned to mush. i bet if they were studying the wrinkles of my brain from back in college to now, they would see that my brain is becoming smoother by the minute, it's a gotdamn iceskating rink up in here nowadays. i don't have a gotdamn thing floating up around there except a basic drive to go home and sleep 24/7.

but we have to come into work. every single cotton-pickin day.

FUCK YOU to the ones who decided that we would be better serving to come in during the busy AND unbusy season.

i really hope this works. i really hope that getting all of this off of my chest will alleviate this stress.

i have "getcha getcha getcha getcha" in my head and i'm pissed. i can't stand JD although he makes a mighty catchy song. every single mariah joint by him is a banger. i just wish he wasn't so a-troll-icious....

my attitude has changed so much with age. i'm a stubborn old cow sometimes. i stick to my guns even when they're covered in butter. i can't believe some of the off-the-wall shit i try to stand behind. sometimes i have to shake my head at my own damn self like, what is that girl thinking?

i refuse to admit when i'm in a bad state. even when it's painfully obvious to all who talk to me. so then, i spiral into even further denial by, get this, cutting off all communication with those who sense something is up.

in my mind it works like this: once i get over it, i'll get back atcha. no use in bringning those around me down to my level, right?

no matter how many times i attempt and fail this, i continue to do it. it's absurd. but at the same time, recently those in the know have been getting in my grill about it and trying to help. but i'm like a dead fish and they're poking me to see if i'll take that one last breath and flip myself out of the bucket into the water. no. i'm cold and i'm dead. i'm mush. i respond in one word answers and sighs. and monotone. "ho=hum" like frickin Eeyore(sp) up in this biznotch.

Like. Frickin. Eeyore.. damn i wish i knew how to spell his name.

the other weird thing is, i can totally act the part of happy-go-lucky girl when in certain company, either company that doesn't know me well, or company that doesn't know what i'm going through. i did this in college to my own detriment. the ones in the know told the ones in the not know and it resulted in everyone getting hurt because nobody knew the whole story.

well i'm sorry if i just don't feel comfortable giving anyone the whole story. i parcel it out because, well because i don't believe that any one person can handle the weight of it and i'll do you that favor by not unloading it all unto you. so there. FUCK YOU.

i am just not the person everyone thinks i am.

i want to change my last name. i don't know if you knw this but my last name is a heavy burden that i just can't deal with anymore. i can't deal with the fact that it's arbitrary and hurtful at the same time. i mean, why would you choose the name, the one name, that although it saves your ass in court, makes me feel like the most un-wanted person in the universe???? i mean really, riddle me that. this is a question i will have to pose to my mother one day, maybe after a few margaritas, or maybe never.

FUCK YOU!!!!

i'm just so: pent up. angry. hurt. disappointed. indigested. indignant. ignorant. cold. broken-hearted. fucked up. pissed off. sensitive. faithful. and classy.

yeah that's right, i'm a classy broad. and i'm not gonna git all in your face about this shit that i'm bringing to the table today. i mean, i am in your face rightnow. but that's your choice. i'm saying, here, at work, at home, no. i am stone cold chillin. and you won't be able to see through that shit. i have people on the other side of the country thinking that i'm gonna go on a murderous rampage any day now (those are some real friends), but i also have someone right here in my hood who thinks that i have it together and i'm living my life for me and that i just have every single thing a girl could ever want in life.

i have people so strung along. it's funny to me. i hate this so much.

i hate what i'm writing.

total stream of consciousness. but now i want to be unconscious. i want to turn off the TV and read a book. i want everything to magically disappear and start over. i want to never have to worry about others ever again. in vain.

i want to know that what i'm doing is the right thing.

when i was younger- i swore that everything that happened was for a reason. i swore that things. just. happened. and that there was a divine plan.

now more than ever i feel like the power is in certain hands. and the rest of us hand it over so easily.

i hate feeling powerless. i am in control and yet i'm scared of it.

i fuckin hate everything.

i want to write a cohesive unit of thought but i just cant'. so frustrating. the acid is bubbling up from my stomache now. the back of my throat is burning.

burnin and lootin.

FUCK YOU.

this is not a racial thing. this is a human thing. how can you treat people differently because of the way they look? some people find rats cute. why can't they find all humans have value?

we are so stuck in this age of consumerism and materialism. it disgusts me. i disgust myself for even being a part of it. this was not my vision of adult hood from when i was young.

all i wanted when i was younger was a small bungalow and a nice car. and everything in the victoria's secret catalogue. is that so much to ask?

i used to be a watcher. now i don't really care what the rest of the world is doing. i'll sit home and watch movies.

that's what i do now. i watch movies. and it fuels my passion for a world other than this one.

what had happened was.... ~ ....what comes next?