misstree i don't know why i've avoided writing like this. setting it all down. explaining it all as if i weren't in the middle of it. it helps, it really does. and i need all the help i can get.

just went back and read some things from a year ago, from another island of rambles. i suppose that right now could be considered notasbad as back_then, when i was tightly bound into emotion and being torn to rags and threads along with it, when the one thing i had found strength in was in a drawn out process of inserting a serrated sword into my gut...

but right now is so grey and so dead, a field of ash in all directions, and i've been telling myself for six months that if i just wait and press at the proper times, it'll get better, i'll be able to come alive again, i'll Enjoy again.

i can't say yet that i've been lying. "someday" is not a legally binding term. but right here, right now, nothing is better and there is no light at the end of the tunnel and all i can do is sit in the middle of the tracks and hope for a train.

i do enjoy things, sometimes. let me be accurate despite my mood. a few hours spent at a friend's, before the rest of the night slammed my elevated head into the asphalt. watching video games. sun on my skin.

but every moment some part of my mind is wondering how i'm going to eat for the next two weeks. i've been there forever. i owe both the court system and the probation system money, and i have it to send (though late, and not all of it), but if i do then i really and truly don't have enough money to eat. and i feel like i have one day of freedom every two weeks, one day when i can do something, somehow, pay a couple of bucks for a matinee or shop for ten bucks worth of trinkets, thinking that this time i've got enough money, but suddenly i count my cash and i'm sixty dollars less than i thought and once_again_i'm_fucked.

and i could get by, i could go out, if i just had my i.d. screwed on both counts. and being stuck in, it's more than just "tree can't go out and party, waaah." it means i can't dance, the one thing that i know can clear myself. doar was the first to point out tuesday_goth_night syndrome many years ago, how i would get increasingly twitchy until i got to dance. 's been six months.

and even that, i think, isn't the worst of it. the worst is the loneliness.

i am very much a social creature. i am not a hermit. i need lovelies around me, and tribelines to revel with. i would settle for, i dunno, anything that isn't coworkers. it's loneliness that keeps my wounds from healing. and it's... it's complicated.

i have no direct contact with anyone worth having direct contact with. so i'm starving. i've found one person i want to curl up in the arms of more than anything else in the world, and they're across the continent. if i weren't so starved, i could stand the distance. but i can't not stand the distance. there are some things you can't say no to. or rather, you can try, and they don't listen. if i applied myself, i could eventually smother that aspect of feeling. but i could not apply myself in that way without acting in a way that is counter to every ounce of my being. incapable. unwilling. even though it hurts. and today... i won't think about it. it will hurt and the wrong parts of my brain will get hold of it and i will poison myself even more.

and for three days i've been thinking about the hospital, not just memories but other things too. at work i felt similar to how i did at my other job, before i went in. like a wrung out towel. i try to care and can't. the only difference is that i'm less likely to break into tears at work.

i'm less likely to break into tears in general. i cried on and off for an hour or so last night, not about anything in particular, but just crying. tom_waits and i got together and i let some of the things that were spilling over just seep out. and my net connection was down so i couldn't reach out to another single soul and i wanted nothing more than just one other voice out there, anywhere.

and i was so very much hoping that He would be online tonight. he always gives comfort. and he was. and he did, in a way. trying to take care of someone else is a powerful way to draw me out of a funk. temporarily. and then, yeah, it's too late, the icky parts already have a hold of it.

i expect betrayal. i look for it. when it isn't there, i write it in. this wasn't betrayal, though somehow it feels like it. it was just things i didn't want to know and doors opened to paranoia and doubt and pain. they are all liquid, flowing swiftly through the smallest crack. and they sear my veins as they move through my water. and i am more alone than before.

i hate the hospital as an option. but there are only two others, and one is waiting (more waiting?) and the other is one i won't look in the eye. and all i know is that each time i am broken it is in a new way and i have never been so thoroughly and quietly dead before and i need this to change in some way somehow.

what a pointless ramble. off with you.
Doar . 060531
Doar bloody brains!!! 060531
Lemon_Soda I love you. 060531
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