My hands go numb, my heart sinks, my mind turns to gush and my emotions take over as I lose all energy in my body and channel it into sobs.
This was after I wrote a page of why I was killing myself -- I write suicide notes to make myself feel better, because after a while, the ridiculous factor sets in and I laugh it off. I let loose an angry scrawl of exactly why I don't feel like living today and normally don't even get to the part where I apologize to my mom before I realize that I can't off myself, I have plane tickets that are already paid for, debt to pay off, Christmas to celebrate...hell, I've never even...wait...what haven't I done?
Then I go eat some cookie crisp if we have nothing else sweet, but today we have reese's and kit-kats that demand consumption. I have Camel Light 99s that never fail me (in fact, smoking is suicide in and of itself...it just takes a few years to set in, and by them, I'm sure I'll be much more prepared). I have Lady and the Tramp and Ghost World and Family Guy and David Lynch -- oh man, no one knows how to make a girl feel like living like David Lynch.
The 22nd of December will never be a good day, but this whole week was ruined for me since my birth. Do you know why I was born four days after Christmas in 1983? Because my mom had to have a c-section and scheduled it so that she could get the tax deduction for the next year. Why couldn't I inherit such logic? Did you also happen to know that last year, my parents forgot my birthday? That I've cried on every birthday since I was 14? And not, like, stupid crying, the kind of crying that happens when someone wrongs you. When someone forgets your birthday or yells at you because you dress like a slut (which you don't) or you don't get any presents from anyone but your parents or no one shows up for your birthday party (that was my 7th year, actually). As the 29nd is a cursed day, so shall the 22nd.
When I visited Joanna in Seattle in 2001, we were waiting for a bus and she decided to sum everything up by declaring me a misfit. "Not in a bad way!" she countered herself. I completely disagreed, both about my being a misfit and if I were, that I would be the good kind of misfit, and was kind of pissed off about it at the time, but now I'm thinking she was right.
When I was crying so hysterically a minute ago, all I wanted was a hug, even if it was over the phone. And I couldn't think of a single person to call.
one year ago today: nothin. two years ago today: nothing three years ago today: "i can't even pretend to be fake"