ok dammit. here i am dealing with a gusher. people, i'm talking.. a gusher. ladies, do you feel me? if you don't, be thankful. be thankful also that you aren't the movie theater seating ruined by my.. gusher.
not to put too fine a point on it: i had a kind of an "accident" on the movie seat at the Gaslamp this afternoon. just after the crowds had cleared out and just before the last of the credits were rolling on the punisher.
people, it was very very bad moments. i went from mildly embarrassed to panicked to ashamed to sweaty and rushed to fighting to weepy to self-pity to shame again to worry to nerves....
ah hell, i could do this forever.
my way of taking care of things? shopping. i'm not even a shopper, y'know? but i had to buy the necessary materials, man.. you know? underwear, pads, pants for chrissakes! its enough to make say, "fertility be hanged!"... aww dangit i don't mean that either. anyway i had to change. for cryin out loud i soiled myself! i'm not some precious little dainty flower.. but i'm not about to let myself be filthy and disgusting. i'm already feeling the latter in full force these days. these days that everyone is making the necessary changes and i'm.. floundering like the loser that i am.
ah. how familiar to suck down the bitter self hate. mm. so thick i'm choking.
so.. the eighty some odd dollars i had left on my discover card is probably now dangerously dangerously close to the razor edge of putting me into another year of debt. i'm such a failure.
there has been so much adjusting and talking and.. well to put it plainly and pettily: there has been so much fighting and anger between [r] and myself. i don't know what to do. i don't know the right thing to do.. the right way to be anymore. i know i'm probably failing at this too. probably in all the major ways. he is too. but i can't bash him. he's got things he's dealing with. i want us to work. he wants us to work. but why is it that i sometimes feel as though what he really means when he says that is that i'm the one that has all the work to do?
i don't know how to do this. i don't know who to talk to. and talking doesn't help. talking makes it worse. my mouth is too full of words, my ears sore and swollen from being crammed with all of it. i want to tear out my eyes so i don't miss any of the things that matter more. my heart hurts. for diff'rent reasons.. each ache a new face. each chamber a new secret held in a special kind of agony. the numbing kind. the stunning kind.
then again.. it may be just the music that's rolling along in the background. love songs. sad songs. sad love songs. sad loss songs. loss. every dying minute that gasps and tries to cling.
wow. bleeding inside is a misery. misery loves-- attention? fuckit. fuckit. fuckit.
i send my fist into new wounds and disappear myself.
20:25 - Saturday, Apr. 17, 2004
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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