Mad (at me)

So...

Here is where I wish the whole truth lay but I'm afraid I can't disclose everything.

I was in the hospital again Tuesday. I'm going back to SLC for the weekend on the 7th. I'm going to be out on Camano with my Dad as soon as it works out for awhile. Dad wants me near while I'm going through this. It'll be nice to be around him again.

I'm mad at my body. I'm mad at this depression stage in the middle of everything. I'm tired of crying. I miss myself. I fucking wish I knew how to fix what's going on.
I've been honest with my bassist Josh and asked him to keep it on the dl for now. Since it's going to affect the future of the band. I couldn't be more upset about that.

For now I'm shut up in my room, as I have been. If I get close to anyone at this point, I'll hurt them. I know my friends who are clued in even a little want to help me, but really there's nothing they can do. And of course there's always that deep seeded longing for... I don't know what he wants. I just ache and miss him every day. I hope he knows how much I care for him. Fuck, I say it all the time. That won't fade with time. He has so many people that care for him I wonder if he sees that as well. I'm a little jealous to be honest. It takes a lot to build a support system like that. Sometimes I think that he thinks love doesn't exist.
Hell I dunno... Maybe he's right. I know I feel it. Felt it. I know I've been broken in two by it. But I'm so easy to leave. Maybe that's because nobody can really feel it for me.
This isn't a "poor me" bit. This is genuine curiostiy. Maybe love only exists for some people. Maybe I had my shot and it's over and that's it.
I don't have enough walls built up. I'm sensitive to fucking everything. I'm tired. I wish I had the fuck you attitude I pretend to have sometimes when I'm drunk and fucking around. I like me better that way. But that's just me indulging in who I wish I was.

I'm exhausted. I need to take my pills and call my mother. My sister even spent some time texting me today. Strange times. When something ends it just means something else begins. But what if that beginning is the begining of an ending?

I'm returning to O Fins tomorrow I think. My memories there are happy. I spent a lot of time there in happier times. If I can feel that again for a few hours that'd be good.

Later. I wish I could limit myself to writing again only when I have something positive to say... But maybe tomorrow will provide that. If not we'll have to wait and see.

Fat ass

Chelsea's bday- first night out officially again.

Strange night.

Someone called me a fat ass.

Since I lost weight I find this interesting.

How much longer should I starve?

Just wondering.

No food til Brooklyn.

14 lbs now...

From the desk of a sarcastic bastard

(I just loved this.)

If I want to feature poetry on this blog, I damn well will! Any of my readers who don't like it, can fuck off. Go watch Jersey Shore instead! Go be an ignorant bitch. See if I give a shit.

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.
Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look,
the laughter, the love,
-- They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses.
Elegant and curled Is the blossom.
Fragrant is the blossom.
I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave,
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

[Edna and I do not fucking approve, and our asses are not resigned.]

Off Planet

I'm back. For a sec.

I've been told to avoid any and all stress for the moment if at all possible. So I'm cooling my heels and taking it easy.

I've lost 13+ lbs in 2 weeks. I wish the circumstances were different, but the likelyhood this will continue is probable I'm told. (Not that I mind this particular aspect.)

I slept last night, straight through, no pills for 8 hours. It was the first time since I can remember. Before that though I was running on 2 hours a night.

I'm still having really intense nightmares. I'm not sure how to change that right now.

I'm wondering where to go now, and what to do from here. The future is wide open at this point. I tried too hard to push myself into new social situations though. Looking for work, not to mention other bands. My hormones were running amok since quitting the B.C. My blood pressure spiked. I broke. It was the perfect storm... So figuring out what my future holds and how to take care of myself so I don't make myself sick again is tricky. I'm just trying to figure out what I'm gunna do for an hour. That's how I have to do it right now. And eventually plan what I want for the time I have.

I've quit drinking as much. And by that I mean pretty much entirely. The last night I drank was 2 drinks.

I'm trying to slowly take the steps I need to get better and back to me. A different me. Better me. One that makes wiser decisions about friends. That doesn't do that pill thing around anyone else ever again. God I made some terrible mistakes with that. :(

I'm still not ready to be in the world again yet. I'm officially still OFF the face of the planet. I can't give anyone anything still. Yet.

I think about Johnny all the time. I hope all the time he's doing well and that he finds his way through this shit better than I am. I miss his friendship all the time too. I miss laughing everyday at least once. I'd settle for a laugh a week now... But these are dark definitive times. (Sanz Panda.)

Back to my plan. For the next hour I'm watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall." Then... Then I think I may try and sleep again. Tomorrow will be a hard day.

Sarah is my Angel

Sarah is my angel...

Because she's explained things to me in a rational way.
Because she's answering my questions.
Because she'd being honest and open with her experiences.
Because she recognized something.

I didn't realize I had such a good friend. Thank God for her.
I think I'm ok.
I'm understanding the symptoms. I understand what I'm going through in a way that makes sense now. I was having real physical stuff going on. I was scared. I mean... I've never been there before. Felt that. What the hell was that?!?

I'm ok for now you guys. I don't want to give away too much, but Kate may be dissappearing for a little while. If at all possible not. But that was scary shit.

I may keep this private. It's really huge. And I believe in complete honesty; but this may need to be one for just me.

If you don't hear from me just know I'm gunna be ok. I just wasn't. Especially you SB. I'll send you an email if circumstances change.

I don't pray: but watch over Sarah; she just may have saved my life. (And not because I was going to kill myself.)What a fucker stress is...

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Evanston

I remember getting the bright idea to do the weekend thing we did sometimes where we'd spend the day driving to Wyoming for Cloves.
We stopped for gas near Park City at those pumps that have the talking news. He'd gone inside for a candy bar and when he came back and it started talking it startled him so much he threw the candy bar at it.
His expression was timeless. I giggled out loud. I was happy we were together again. I didn't mind it when we laid around and had intense conversations. And we did that pretty frequently. We were intense people, and driven by each other and our passions we became more intense. We loved it at this point. We were certain of our future together. We wanted each other. It was the singular moment in time I knew for certain I was the only girl he had.
That weekend though I wanted us to get out. Get air. Spend some time debating each other in the car as usual on Depeche Mode lyrics, or just hold hands and joke around about life and our friends, and our plans for October and forever. He told me he dreamt of it sometimes. He dreamt as often as I did, and could recall his dreams beter than I. I don't know how much of it was true, but it was romantic and I didn't care about the fantasies he spun. I cared only about the hurtful lies. I actually loved the fantasies.
That day was not to be at all as I expected. We were talking about the future and at some point I started talking about when he was going to finalize his divorce. He was practically living at my place at that point. Taking my car to work everyday. It set him off as it always did and we spent part of the drive fighting. We were over it by the time we got to Evanston. We got to the cigarette store excited as could be. That was until I realized I'd locked the keys in my car. I'd told no one where we were going and we were in a completely different state. He told me not to panick. So we waited for the cops to show and put the hanger in the car to pop the lock. We sat jovial again smoking our beloved cloves, his a black- mine a menthol.
When we got back into the car an hour later we stopped at the diner in town for dinner. It was the one and only time I've smoked in a restaurant. It was liberating. I bought a shot glass in the diner that day and we walked across the street to the bar hooked to the liquor store. We played pool and somebody put Nickelback on the jukebox. He beat me, as he always did. And we drank Jager bombs as we always did. It was such a day.
On the drive home I realized I'd gone through half of the cloves I bought as I twirled my ring on my finger. Holding the cig out the window I felt the cool night air brushing my hand. Sleep Theif played quietly in the background and I was content. We were headed home together and had survived not only an argument but a misadventure.
It was one of our last, but I loved it.

Withdrawal again

Not only am I dealing with the break up now I'm withdrawaling.

That night with the Xanax. I don't have enough to keep me sane. So I thought I'd write.

I can describe the symptoms of Xanax withdrawal. But it blows. And it's mostly in your guts.

Since we are doing the show on Saturday I'm hoping this is a 24 hour thing, like some have been before. I did take one, my last and it helped the symptoms, but didn't stop them.

On a happier note Johnny sent me an email earlier apologizing for the other night. It really changed the day. I don't feel so bad. I was doing well today too. I hadn't cried. I made it to practice. I didn't play the music that would have made me worse. I went to bed at 12:30. But I woke up at 3:30 and realized again I was alone. Even though things are better with us, I don't have him.
Then the withdrawal really started, cuz I had avoided the Xanax the last twos night after drinking shots (I'm not sure why) and the night before because... I can't remember. Anyway I was asking for trouble.
So I don't really get brownie points yet for not crying cuz there were a few tears.

The heart ache is harder to bare than the physical shit I'm now going through though. How people kick junk I'll never understand. This is one of the most uncomfortable feelings I've ever had, and heroin is way harder. It's less intense then the anxiety you feel from cocaine, but it's constant and lasts longer. I'm hoping I can get back to sleep in a couple hours. I have to meet up with a new band around 10pm tonight. Feeling it out. Anyway this is either the third or fourth time I've been through it. As long as I'm not stupid like I was it doesn't happen. I switch meds as soon as the withdrawal begins but usually I have enough meds to slowly taper. Again, being of a different breed, the lack of oxytocin probably isn't helpful.

I'm done writing again. Night guys. Hope you all are doing beautifully.

I feel

Maybe if I lay against this pillow long enough I'll be ok...

But I still feel the same.

I haven't eaten. I can't. I forgot how to do that for myself.

Moving to this place was problematic.

Because I don't know where a store is nearby.

And I don't have the strength or energy to find one.

I feel dead.

Cancel?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrygCJi8xMI&feature=related

(Listen perhaps? As I relate? This is what I was feeling as I wrote.)

It's 9:40 as I write this blog. 9:40. The day has passed on.

Funny I should use that phrase.

I "prayed" for awhile today, if you can call it that. I closed my eyes and laid in bed numb and asked all the forces of the universe to let Johnny know I love him. Just to keep him from hurting as I was. To ask for strength for myself.

Because last night I sent him a text asking what was up. I'd left him completely alone the day before to see if he'd text. He didn't. When he hadn't texted back by 3am I asked him if I'd done something wrong. He said no he was drunk. Then I told him I thought he was getting drunk a lot and I was worried about him. Then he got angry. And I found out why he has been resenting me. He thinks I'm hanging out with a crowd of people I'm not really. He had heard rumors of stuff that he hadn't asked me about or confirmed. But held over my head. He told me he wanted nothing more from me.

I didn't think my heart could break anymore... How often is it I'm to be surprised by how much deeper this can get?

I called my mom hysterical at 3:30 am. I told her what was going on. (Well, I left out the part about the people being associated with coke- but that would scare her unnecessarily.) She listened sympathetically. It reminded me a lot of the conversation we'd had at 4am the day I found out for sure Chris was married. I was a wreck that day too.

What Mom told me broke my heart too; "every time you reach out to him he hurts you. Do you WANT to keep doing that to yourself? Why is it so important to keep in touch if all he can do is hurt you now?"

Then she used the phrase I knew she would "you need to pretend he's dead."

And told her I didn't think I could.

He promised me we'd be different, if we broke up. He PROMISED ME. I want his friendship. I don't know what he wants from me. All I feel now though is he just doesn't care. If he can turn his heart off so quick and for such foolish reasons then he never loved me. That's how it feels. And I'm sure I won't be hearing about his real feelings towards me anytime soon.

Why is he so mad at me? He crushed me! What the hell have I done to deserve any of this?

Perhaps there is nothing as my friends say. And he's creating a world where it's easier to feel angry about you.

My world withers, and dies away. Not because I'm doing drugs. Fuck that world. I die because I feel as if there's nothing left inside. I don't watch our old programs. I don't do anything that contstitutues as "Johnny and Kate."

That world I guess is a bridge that should wither and burn just as my soul is.


It's 2:47 am now and everyone I know told me I should go out. That it would make me feel better, so I did.

I fucking drank shots since the first time I was 23. Fuck those people who thought being at a bar would make me feel better.

The bar felt familiar. Like home. Fuck home right now. Am I supposed to feel gracious there was a spot that Johnny and I went together?

Am I supposed to rejoice in the fact no matter what I do he doesn't want anything to do with me?

Yup. And all I feel are the holes in my heart.

I'm calling my mom again even though it's too late

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrygCJi8xMI&feature=related


There's what this blog feels to me...

I love him. I miss him.

Maybe he's keeping his distance because he must. Maybe he's keeping it because he wants it. Maybe...

Maybe it just is what it is.

I know at the Hula I cried more than laughed.

My life now is some exotic life of trying to ignore or calm the pain.

How to end this one...

I love my Johnny. I miss him every waking moment. And I'm tired of waking and crying. For him. I miss our friendship.

He's allowed to feel. Whatever.


I feel like the song I posted.


My life is over. Not physically: But my soul can't do music anymore.

We may be cancelling our show. I'll let you know...

Peace

Sparrow

Welcome to this world.

Welcome to this design.

Do you know me here?

I fucking don't. My stomach aches. My brain is fucked. Can't nothing fix this, is there darling? :)

Am I sad? Upset? Nope. This is the place I don't give a fuck except for the one where I made it home safely.

Thank fuck for that.

I know I have practice in 7 hours. I know I'm supposed to be cool calm and collected.

I know who I'm supposed to be.

Not sure I could fill her shoes now, even if needed.

Who the fuck is Kate Sparrow anyway?

I think she's sone version of someone I created. Is she real?

Yep. I created Sparrow to feel for me. There's nothing left of the person I dropped when I created Sparrow. The name replaced is nothing. She was some girl I killed long ago because frankly, she needed death. If she hadn't made such a fuckery of her life she may still exist. But she was dorky. She was socially inept. She was... Clueless. And now she's dead. To me. To everyone I hope.

Now... That's not to say Sparrow is a good person. She tries. She has her ups and downs. She loves deeply. She feels deeply. She writes deeply. That other girl? Some virgin version of someone I could never keep round. Everyone made her what she was- a loser.
Who wants to be a loser forever? No one.

So Sparrow started REALLY writing music. And making friends. And being some sort of something. People liked Sparrow, because she was nothing like the girl she had replaced. And Sparrow adapted to the world she was supposed to, given her enviornment. She never stopped loving anyone she cared for. Not for an instance.
In fact those few precious people burned into her soul like wildfire. Those who were there before- and after.
She clung to them as her life changed. They were not lovers. Just loves. People given the chance she would defend to death. She would have done, and still do anything for them.
They stay as so many others leave. The people believed constant meerly gypsies in this play. Truth is a harsh mistress, as is trust.

As the transformation progressed Sparrow realized what the realism was, and what the fake shit she was involved in. She was playing some part because she believed it to be something that went with who she wanted to be.

Wanted to be, yes. But she lacked all that made the life real. So she stopped. Foolish she felt, that life had never suited her anyway. Yet somehow she knew it would haunt her, and she knew why....

The days played on. She wrote. She loved. She even died. But not even death could keep her from her ultimate goal: musical domination.

Domination is such a strong word. What she wanted was someone to understand her lyrics. Her truth. She wanted her truth to reach others as so many had reached her. She wanted to help. Could she?

Still a truth that can not be told. There's still so much left out of the lyrics. A life full, brimming even, begging to be written. Aah yes, a complicated life without the words it seems. But the lyrics written deep, and full, and often dark as the life she'd known had been.

Too many experiences, too little time. Perhaps it wouldn't be right to write of it all? Perhaps that would simply be too much.

I think that this entry is not for broken hearts. More of real life.

Perhaps there is music out there that speaks to the exact emotion of what she or anyone is feeling. Find that truth. Be strong. Take heart.

End in Tears

It's amazing. My favorite band comes to town, and I'd rather talk about how fucked up I am.

I was gunna go to Portland today to go after them, but... I woke up and I didn't have the heart. I went back to sleep. And I slept til it was dark. And now that my sleep is completely backwards I officially know my life is upsidedown.

I woke up and felt terrible about myself. I almost feel like I'm just indulging in this and if I were a stronger person I'd be better at this whole thing. I know deep down I'm not indulging. Deep down I should be understanding to myself and whisper to the scared little girl with the bottle in her hand that it's gunna be ok. But because I have a disorder that wants to destroy me the second anything unstable comes along- instead of whispering, it screams at me "do it! do it! Pull the fucking trigger!" And I wish I could tell that voice to go to hell like all normal people.

But this break up is different than the last. When Chris and I broke up I hung out with Ian, Carley, Dane and Laura almost everyday. I was hardly ever alone. They helped me stay busy and out of the broken mindset. It helped again, because they were a safe crowd. No drugs. Just drinks and karaoke. And I did my best to be a good person through it all. I tried calling Chris a few times. He never answered. I tried hard to keep distance because I knew that's what he wanted. (And what Jae Cee wanted.) But some nights I would text desperately. Hating myself for doing so.
The first time I saw him after the breakup was the last time I saw him before I moved here- to return his stuff. We talked for a few minutes. Then I said I had to go. And the next morning I kissed SLC goodbye.

I started dating pretty quickly when I got here. I had no friends, and no options being new. Simon was the first guy I kinda liked. But that quickly became dramatic and I realized was going nowhere. Then I met Frank, and again knew that was going nowhere. I think part of it was timing though. Because a year passed between my break up and meeting my Johnny. (Can I still call him mine?) I really wanted Johnny and I to be something special. He was special. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on him. It took time and patience, but he came around I guess you'd say. And I was thrilled. I remember the moment he asked me to be his girlfriend and how it felt and how surprised I was and incredible that moment was. I also knew in that moment it wouldn't be forever, and that I should treasure it and what we were then. It went by so fast. Just as I knew it would too.

I don't want to move on. I don't want to feel this horrible gasping pain in my brain and heart anymore. I don't want to meet someone new. I want Johnny. My heart aches. I want only him...

So The Dreaming were amazing on stage. Chris sang to me at one point. My ears are ringing. But then the new member asked me if I could get coke. I said yes, which my friend Chelsea overheard and decided to make a scene about my driving anywhere, even though at that point, I was fine. She completely embarassed me. Time ran on and they left for Burien, and I said I couldn't go to Burien for him. So again, my night was tainted. I guess I was hoping it would live up to the show at Studio Seven that was so fucking amazing... But I was let down. And then I walked back to my car alone. Alone alone alone fucking alone.
I walked right past where I would park for Johnny and I started to cry. AGAIN. I can't seem to stop. I texted him and then he said something about talking to the programmer or bar tender instead (implying he'd read the blog) which completely put a dagger through my heart. How he could have the audacity to say something so hurtful... Those people don't have names here. They aren't important. I met them after we broke up. Christ. They are nothing. Not even that. Trouble. Shit I should be avoiding.

I called him in a desperate attempt for clarity knowing damn well he would give me none. He wouldn't answer the phone. I was fucking hysterical in my car at that point. I have one feeling lately and the cause is because I no longer have him. And I'm a fucking mess trying to figure shit out. I don't want to sleep alone. But I don't want to sleep with anyone but him. I haven't even touched another man. I'm stopping the birth control because what's the fucking point?

I need someone to talk to. I need someone to really fucking listen. I need things I can't have at this point. I haven't even been drinking as much surprisingly. I thought I'd be drinking more. But it's so much work to leave my bedroom to go buy the wine which eventually makes me feel worse anyway. I want a shit load of xanax. I'm already almost out, but that is of course thanks to last sunday. Or whichever day my brilliant plan failed. (Again, vodka next time.)I've thought about calling the clinic and saying I'm an addict, but I'd have to practice my acting skills in order to get what I'm after.

I'm watching me do this to myself. I'm watching me pull away from the world. I'm watching as the hours tick by on sheets that need to be washed and I can't be bothered because the stairs are so far away and I'm too damn tired. All the time. Fuck this. What can I do to "kickstart my heart?"



This is what plays in my head. And all I hear is my ears ringing.

And I miss him.

And I'm stopping Hula nights. (I don't care much if I dissapoint anyone now. My usual friends that would go all are dating someone now anyway. I can't be around anyone else's happiness. It makes my misery worse. Sick I know.)

Nobody can ever hear me sing at Flash Suppressor shows because they play too loud. I'm tired of screaming. Nobody cares about the lyrics that are my soul because nobody hears them. If I can't be heard what's the point? I'm thinking of pulling that trigger too.

The truth at the end of the day is I don't know how to take care of myself. I was never held or coddled over. Nobody taught me to be gentle to me.

But I gaurantee you I tried to do something every single day to make Johnny happy. If it was letting him play his game, or trying to cook for him a couple times, or trying to make him laugh. I usually let him chose the bars and the places we'd go. I tried to show him affection and love, and never said a harsh insult during a fight. I think the one he took to heart was when I pointed out that he was "cold." But that was something I said to try to make a point about his behavior. I think it hurt him. I'm sorry if he did hurt.
All I wanted to do was love him, treat him well, and take care of him. I hope he knows that. Because I don't know if the other girls he was with ever did. It doesn't sound like it- I hope he finds exactly what he wants in the future in that sense. I hope he does better than his other exs. I love him. I want him to have everything he wants.

And now I'm tired big surprise. Depression is exhausting. I won't sleep. But I can't cry anymore right now.

Tomorrow

I wanna call him. I wanna say every stupid thing in my brain right now. I wish he'd listen.

I don't have anyone to talk to right now outside of this stupid blog. I feel like I lost the most important person in my family.

I'm not good at being alone. I already had somebody else want to have the relationship talk. I can't right yet. But I do want to start exploring my options again. This is just how I function. There's a bar tender, and a video game investor. I'm speaking to others. I'm meeting people. And yet I wake up miserable and cry myself to sleep at night still.

Am I pushing myself too hard? Something has to fucking fill my time.

Anyway- The Dreaming is in town tomorrow. I gotta get some sleep. I have a very long exciting day ahead of me. I just wish it hadn't been tainted.

<3

Missing Me

If you saw my legs you wouldn't understand either. I certainly don't. It takes 5 pics to cover the bruises. What is it I am doing to myself? Is it subconscious?

My life circles in circles. In circles.

It sucks.

I have to change it yet again.

I'm hoping to sleep. It's 11:22 am now. My stomach hurts. I just had a 2 hour conversation with a roomie. I don't know if she knew I was dealing with the physical shit I wish I hadn't done.

My brain hurts too. So do my legs. Fuck it, I guess everything does now.

The words of the last doctor appointment swirl in my head and I think "Kate, your brain has never been normal, and will never BE normal. You must come to accept this."

Which basically means pills forever, and I have to quit doing stupid fucking shit. Which was fine. I was ready to leave that fucking life forever. But how is it exactly one mends a broken heart?

How does one come to accept that normal is never an option? Never has been. Never will be?

I am hoping the feeling overtaking me now is calm and my stomach will go fuck itself.

I miss me.

Ramble - Rearview

I hate country music. But...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nB8egpfxH8M

sorry you'll have to copy and paste. ???

It's weird, but somehow that is fucked up love to me.

Today I suppose things were a little easier. I only had 2 crying fits, though as usual one was when I woke up in the morning.

I reactivated my ok cupid account. I looked around. I'm disgusted. Every time I look at someone I think "they could never even hold a candle to my Johnny." How he could possibly believe the bullshit about cheating is beyond me. I spoke about him at the meeting. How hard it is to trust men in general and finding one who could be monogamous was again, beyond me. But I was THANKFUL.

And then the thought occurs to me he's probably moved on already.

I know for a fact when I woke up every morning and looked at his sleeping beautiful face and thanked whatever entity for allowing him to be in my life, that he never felt that.

I know when I told him how lucky I thought we were to be in love in such a beautiful city he thought I was being rediculous.

I know I feel like running. As far from this city and these memories as possible.

I know now- for certain- you can believe something to be so precious, to hold it, to taste it and be TRULY grateful - And like every other single damn lesson in my life it leaves me.

I FEEL FUCKING ABANDONED AGAIN. EVERYONE NO MATTER WHAT WILL LEAVE YOU.

Maybe that's the lesson I ahould be learning here.

Gaurd up. Good luck finding the real me anytime soon any man ever again. You have your work cut out for you.

Fuck this entry and fuck me.

'I looked in my rearview- and now I don't see you'

Fight

Somethings in this life are worth fighting for. I hate confrontation but I'll do it as necissary. I'd always fight for love. For passion. Truth. Beauty. Those that need help fighting for themselves. I'd fight.

I'd fight. I fight tonight my own personal demons because dammit that's worth fighting for too.

Sarcastic Bastard

To the beautiful sarcastic bastard-

you are one of my favorite mother fuckers in my world, in this life.

I hope you know this.

Thank you for giving a shit about me.

:)

<3

Panda

I'm keeping this short as my plan last night epically failed.

I had this vision of Johnny and me. Panda bears. Eating bamboo. Chilling. Making life simple like that. Him and me. And fuck the world.

Tonight I I will sleep with my panda shirt that will always remind me of us.

Thursday I'm changing my life and then I'm leaving for awhile.

For now this is all I have to say.

X to the A will save me tonight.

It. Love you my dears

Hello my darlings.

Those of you who know how to find this blog, there are so few of you anyway, I'm sure it is safe to say what I have to say next.

I bought 2 bottles of wine last night. Drank one, and realized I wasn't quite drunk enough to go through with my plans so I took my 2 Xanies and slept today. I'm exhausted now too but I'm afraid I'll need at least 2 bottles tonight as well. I wish I had a drinking partner. It makes it easier. But then they'd try and talk me out of what needs to be done I think.

I'm not unhappy. I'm not suicidal per say. I'm tired my friends. So tired. My broken heart knows deep down, as it has know before it can never truly mend. I have learned I can not trust. My broken body aches like hell everyday.
My heart also knows deep down that friends care for me. That were my presence missing things would be different. Just as I miss Matt, Canyon. Michael, Orrin, Meggie, Adam, Christian... The list goes on.
I would hope to my truest friends would raise a toast to me, my life.
The things I tried to accomplish, the things I did manage.

Getting back home. Working on my band. Being the best friend I could. Being the best girlfriend I could because I have loved so deeply. Without hesitation. Without remorse. I hope Johnny knows that. I know that as time would go on the natural way of things I'd see him less, and as the last man I'll trust or love in such a way he has a part of my soul no other man can have. or touch. I'd sream his name. It doesnt fix this. Make him happy. Or me.

There is nothing I can do.

So since we started this I have had my planned two bottles of wine. We went to Mecca. Had a few. Made sure anytime any unpleasant emotions cam came up we drank. Came hom to by blessed Xanax, We'r up to 15 now. It's hard to type. I'm hope the calm comes.

I hope the people who would read this would understand this has nothing to do my sweet J who has been nothing but wonderful and tried to understand.

I LOVE YOU ALL. More than you knows dearies. Do muisc. Be happy. Try hard. I BELIEVE IN YOU

Shit pittance

Wednesday.

This is usually the night we go to karaoke together. Being there without him was almost unbearable. I mean, I was really ok. Speaking to our usual bar-staff friends. Then the karaoke dj Mikey took me in his arms and said "it'll be ok" and fucking a. That's when the tears brimmed my eyes. I stopped them. I wouldn't let them. I have given into god damn tears too many times since Sunday.

Surprisingly, about ten of my friends came out. I suppose they were showing a front for me, supporting me and I really, really am thankful. I sometimes forget I have touched people ever. I mean that. Like, I have NO idea the impact I've had on people or the world. The 250 + friends on facebook are some accomplishment I suppose- But it doesn't register. I wish sometimes I'd touch people - My music. That it would register, but it never occurs to me that my stupid shit kindness has ever meant shit pittance to anybody.

I wonder if the people that have passed in my own life realize the importance they've had not only to me, but others. I wonder if they think "christ, maybe that one person I met once will be even a little sad I'm gone." I know, fucking sad thing to say, but I do wonder it. I read today passing through Everett on one of the signs that one of the regulars at my old bar 'O' Finnigans' had passed. I knew her. Barely really. But I passed and I was sad for a moment. Would she remember me? Remember my name?

Went to the doctor today. Was in a state getting up, had a real hard time. Yes, the insomniac is clinging to the bed like some sort of mother figure. The doctor took mercy as I wished and perscribed me my blessed apricot relief. Oh fuck me. I'm putting off sweet relief right now to right this stupid entry which I'm writing on a whim, and may delete on a similar whim later. I can taste the bitterness. I hate it. I crave it. No, I know better. I'm not addicted. But I know I can't share. And in this small orange bottle lays some lover I've romanced before, and accepted. And denied. To feel that peace is something I wonder if I deserve.

Johnny said we could speak if he wasn't drinking. I dropped it after he said so. I assumed the wine was more important. I do not blame him. What I want to ask; say is more than I likely could in a simple phonecall. And in his position I would do the same. What I have to say to him is a mystery to his ears. How does he know an apology lays on my lips? Truth? Hope? Agony?

I can not let go. My head, my eyes, and my heart ache. I have practice tomorrow for my band and I know we'll be playing his song. I'm wondering how to get through. The best option I can muster is to smaile big and think of puppies. And yes, I'm a fucking idiot because I know anywhere I look I'll see him. And then I wonder how ANY professional performer gets paid when they go through a personal crisis. Then I remember I'm getting paid no matter what. Romanticide was a stupid idea. I cursed myself. Why write something based on the past bad shit?
Oh yeah. Cuz that's what I do.

Ok to those of you who can't understand, who don't read this. This is my memory. Today's gone. I'm reaching to my only solace. Short ending. Fuck it. Be happy. Love hard. Life is short.

Peace.

Write soon.

Predicting 'haunting me'

So the inevitable has happened and Johnny and I have decided to be on a break since Sunday. Sunday I gathered my things locked myself in my room and cried for hours.

This entry is going to be decidedly negative. I've lost my happiness. My zest for life, and the oxytocin in my brain that has kept me level and happy with my baby, my love.

Things had gotten increasingly hard the last little while with him. I reached a point about 2 weeks ago where I realized nothing I did, or any of my actions or ideas I could explian so he could understand. I knew after the fight on the 14th that with the words he said I could never go back. We could never back. The things he said echoed in my head breaking me. Aching. He called me names, he yelled, it was the worst fight we'd ever had in my opinion. I woke up the next morning feeling evil. Like I had hurt him, victimized him, and even though deep down I can't believe that; I couldn't shake the feeling. All, all, all, I did was love him.

Then the last 2 days I have retreated back into my illness. I realize with no stabilizing force, and no therapy I can not control the urge to self destruct. I don't really wanna talk about that aspect right now, though I will likely.

What I want to say is how I forgotten how abnadoned I'd feel. Helpless. How the crying fits will break you apart and render you functionless. I lay in my bed now. Numb.

I diliberately cut myself. And it wasn't the fake kind I've done when drunk that never works, that hasn't broken my sobrity in my opinion. This was full on rage on my arm. My body wracking with sobs I did the only thing I knew would calm me. I ripped me to shreds. 4 deep cuts. Im surprised that I feel no guilt about it. It's probably the first pain for pleasure satisfaction I have felt in many, many years.

I want to talk about my dear sweet Johnny. The man I couldn't cheat on ever. He does not understand that even now, I can not give my body to another man. It really goes back to being raped, and I'm sorry that's even a case. But I trust him, he's the only man I can say that about. He hasn't betrayed me. He has been there.

But dear god I ache for him to touch me some times. Just to show me some tenderness. I suppose I'm asking a lot of him to ask him to help rewrite what I know of the world: That ultimately men are tender when they want something, and cruel once they've had it. Do men ever really love women?

Fuck, he has all the power too in this. I'm waiting like a god damn horse in a stable anxiosuly awaiting the next time I'll see him, like a race. I can't move until he says so, and apparently I fucked up AGAIN without knowing I was making a mistake.

In the midst of my depression I decided to make another ok cupid profile just to see if anyone would even be interested in me. Weight gained, year older. People wrote and it validated my self esteem but Johnny found it before we had time to talk about it. I disabled the account as I had no plan to talk to anyone, or use it for anything. I'm too depressed for sex. I don't want anyone but my panda. I don't even wanna masterbate. So not me.

I had this dream last night where I was dying, I'd been shot. My sister was there, and she grabbed my hand and she was crying. I whispered to her "it's your job to let Johnny know he has my heart, I know I won't see him again. Please do this for me." And she agreed. And I could like feel like draining out of me as I woke up. I layed in bed til 6pm. In and out of consciousness. I didn't care. Tomorrow I pray, pray the doctor gives me the good drugs. The ones that magically make me feel better, until I can write out this letter I'm planning to give him with everything I want to say.

I'M SO SORRY BABY. How did we get here? Why couldn't we talk more when we had it?

He doesn't trust me now because of the letter Frank gave Johnny. That changed everything too I guess. I fight that damn bullshit everyday. I haven't even hung with my guyfriends much. I have been there whenever, and wherever for him and if he has said "dont do that I dont appreciate it" or ANYTHING I change it. I want him to be as happy as possible. As comfortable as possible. I have to fucking earn his trust everyday and it's rediculous. Does he just not understand the depths of my feelings and how that translates into a no cheating scenario ever?

I need to go to bed but my head is haunted. Fuck me for writing those lyrics.

"and if you go
you'd take all I have
you have all the best of me
and if you go
you won't really leave
you'd always be haunting me"

Here's to you. Haunting my head. My dreams. Just as I predicted. You are my goodness. I need you. This is torture. Fucking torture.