Hug it Out

When I was a kid, probably nine or ten, I told my extended family that I was done hugging them. They were so fucking annoying with their hugging any time anyone farted, and I was not okay with that. My aunts and uncles were, of course, offended, and my grandma hugged me anyway, but it was something that was important to me to stop. Why would I hug people so many times like that? Why would I use touch as some weird gesture that meant nothing to me or them?

Fast forward to now and for the most part those aunts and uncles still don't hug me. My grandmother is long dead, so those have stopped, too. And that is fine. I am not an overly affectionate person and I never have been. I often shy way from touch because it can make me uncomfortable and there's just times where I don't want to be bothered. But there has been a shift. Not a monumental shift; I'm still annoyed as fuck when Matt won't leave me alone which is literally every day of my life, but there has been many t…


Sleep has become my best friend and worst enemy. Okay, let me rephrase that: Sleep continues to be my best friend, and is now ALSO my worst enemy. How can that be you ask? I'll tell you. Sleep has become a black hole for me, a place that I get sucked into and can't climb out from. I love sleep. I love to dream and relax and be in my bed with all 10 of my blankets piled on while my fan blows directly at my face (and I'm covered all the way to my head with just my nose peeking out...). I love that. I also love the moments before I fall asleep where I fantasize about things that I really want. That sounds great, right? Well it is! Except for when it isn't. Lately all I can bring myself to do is sleep. My brain doesn't want to deal with real life so it orders me to bed where I feel awful for being there, but can't get up. This is depression for me, a part of it anyway. My depression always includes some sort of oppression. Not oppression from people (other than mys…

No wire hangers.

The past few weeks have been mentally difficult. I am so unhappy right now. I can't even begin to describe the number of times I've thought about self harming; I pulled my hair so hard yesterday that it nearly came out. I only stopped out of pure vanity. After that happened I drug a wire hanger across the veins of my left wrist, but couldn't bring myself to actually do damage. The pain I could inflict upon myself sounds lovely and it would be the perfect escape from the pain I have in my head and heart right now. I know why I am hurting. I know why I feel despair and rage and sadness and agitation and a lack of fulfillment. But I can't tell anyone.

Stupid Hair

I cannot begin to explain the anguish my hair is causing me. I'm so fucking attached to the length that it's ridiculous, but I also hate it and want it short...but what if I'm ugly and what if people don't like me as much with short hair? What if I look old or my face looks round? How fucking dumb is that thought process? So dumb. I totally recognize it, but here I am, playing the "should I or shouldn't I?" game, and it seems that regardless of which side I pick, I'm not happy with my choice. Hair is so stupid and controlling. It has so much damn power over me that it's like I have Stockholm Syndrome with my thin as fuck mane. Again, so dumb. I've felt this way before, and I'm sure I'll feel it again in my life time, and it seems that the only way to remedy the problem is to chop it all off. Once it's gone I often times feel free, but I also feel regret for the stupid long hair that once was. I'm in hair limbo, guys. 
I sometim…

I hate Sundays

It baffles me to be someone who has a life that is so good, but who feels so, so sad. Nothing feels right these days. My head is off, my body is off, everything is off. I just want to be on. Even if it was on with a dimmer switch, at least there'd be some light. I spend a lot of time in the dark these days, metaphorically speaking. I can never be happy with what I have, I am always longing for more, am always comparing myself to others. I truly am a bad person. That sentence isn't meant for someone to counter, it's a fact. I am a bad person. I'm not nice. I'm perpetually tired. I'm ugly inside and out. I'm mean. I'm detached. I'm jealous, oh my God, so jealous. And I am undeserving of the people in my life.

Again, this is not a post in which I'm hoping someone will throw glitter at me to make me feel better. It's how I feel and it's how I've been feeling for quite some time. Depression is a spiteful bitch. She goes away for awhile, m…

No Reason at All

I wish I had the energy to compose something profound, but I'm tired and really high, so I won't/can't. There's a fuck load of a lot wrong with this world today, especially in America, but I'll be damned if there isn't a fuck load of a lot of things right with it, too. I am continually impressed and touched by the kindness of others.


There are few things in life that can make me feel such a wide array of emotions than John Mayer. Happy, peaceful, lovely, tingly, sad, devastated, hurt, broken, magical, turned on, awe, grief, melancholy, excitement, touched, and magical. This man just gets it. He fucking gets it. I am so excited to see him in concert for the third time next week. John Mayer, I'm coming for you. Not in a creepy way of course, unless you're into that then okay, cool.