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so this morning you accept that you're not an heiress - that you'll never get security again. It's been hard for me. The last three nights I've tossed and turned and gnashed. I delved again into the suicides. I wrote poorly about them last time - I think I've written poorly for a long while but I write - yet I've studied all of them.
the weirdest and most tragic for me is the Eliot smith one - the knife in his heart - not once but twice. I recognize that mental illness - the absolute despair. I'm not sure if the reuppance of drugs has helped me, but I'm beginning to feel again the blessed numb fortress that I so disdained earlier.
and I can't wait to take an uber (fuck voting with your dollar somewhat) into town and getting a damn pizza and beer. the biggest decision will be marghareta or mushroom.
After I rolled around and rolled and tossed and turned and upped the ante for the pity party of the decade, I concluded "she's either afraid of Terry or she doesn't really love me."
it might be about the money yet I'm also prepared and happy that my mom live until 111 in great health - it's just the feeling of "I'm letting this man who is such a scared dick cow me into forsaking my children. you're the only one who will really be affected."
when I write something on Facebook, I may as well be screaming in the ears of old people.
and I was so hurt by my father - no empathy - no accountability - no thought. the reason he said was because he thought I would sue him. how mother-fucking ridiculous. do people sue their family for sexual assault? there's not even such a thing.
my fingers are super cold at the tips. I'm cheap and scared so only allow 55 on the thermostat. my first thought today was to just cut them all off. I've thought it before. why even pretend? but look at me typing that from a house that gives me free rent and getting laid off in a bit.
I feel less suicidal than in days past.
I was looking into plan b - which is wiping old people's asses for $17/hour. honestly, getting that counseling degree activated - I have no clue how to do it - and I pulled my husband's hair and called him demonic so now I have a record of shame in the courts. wow, with a bit of time on that incident/hell-day, it really does seem sad - 8 years and all the excellent acting you did down the tubes.
I was reading about asha weevil and what she left ted in the will - and I paraphrase "to ted, I leave my assuredly welcome absence and complete contempt."
she and vic died of pills.
sylvia's was really hard - head in stove.
so many chose hanging. I would never choose to hang myself. It feels utterly slow and painful.
there's a certain relief and freedom in knowing that I'm going to get nothing.
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