That's the simplest way to explain it...
She brought up that one time when I was like sixteen and set my hair on fire in the girl's bathroom, she said it smelled like burnt hair for a week.
And then three different people tried to fix it (including her)
My hair was so screwed up...and then some ex-boyfriend of mine told me that I looked like a dike.
Speaking of ex-boyfriends, Alley Cat said she used to have a crush on one of my exes.
I forgot that a bunch of them were on her Skype.
It's okay, he was an idiot anyway...how did I end up with such fucking morons?
Which is why when I revamped my standards, I said that if I date a guy he has to be smarter than I am...or at least able to have a conversation?
*laugh*
One time I said that the reason I started smoking pot is because I felt like my life was a Zoloft commercial.
But then I woke up one day and realized that everyone is a better person when they're sober...
And this is why I went straightedge for all those months.
A few years ago I started this tradition of buying new nail polish every time I move...
I'm not sure why that's relevant.
Two years ago I said that this blog is "just about finished."
Because it reminded me too much of "Bunny and her family of Misfits."
And there on Satan's porch with Snuff, I admitted that high school was just one long identity crisis for me.
And The Jester stopped smoking for awhile last year, because like me, he had learned everything he could from it.
He smokes everyday again...I don't think I could ever go back to that though.
Nobody ever knew that I overdosed on Xanax and then tried to drown myself in the bathtub.
I lost track of how many times I tried to end it...
It's really no wonder that I used to scare my friends.
Anyone you ask will tell you how out of control I was in high school.
The pills and pot; and bottles upon bottles of whiskey, vodka, Segrum 7, cognac, brandy...
I can't believe I used to steal pills from my parents, I can't believe I was crossfaded from before school 'til after midnight everyday for that many years.
It's little wonder that I'm still trying to recover.
Everyone blamed my state of mind on my crazy mother.
But you know 90-something percent of schizophrenic people have mentally ill mothers.
I guess I can't blame the fact that she was fucked up too.
Sorry for another fucking rant...
Gomen nasai, honto ni.
I'm trying to get over my "Bleeding Heart Syndrome."
This stupid need that I feel to save everyone from their own lives....
Which is why I chose apathy.
Satan told me once when we were fighting that I'm lucky that I can just turn off my emotions.
If he actually knew how much trauma I cause myself when I do that.
One time Satan told me that I have to fight the way that the world has conditioned me to think.
So I did that, and then I found myself.
Bunny was lying in a ditch on the side of the road.
And somehow I was resurrected from the ashes of a person that I never was.
Satan really did help me figure out who I am, maybe that's why I feel like I still owe him.
That and other stuff...I don't feel like broaching that topic.
I used to joke that he's God because he's always right, he is though.
Satan is too logical, except when he's being bipolar.
Infected just came on Pandora...YES!
Just another song that reminds me of being high at three in the morning and talking to people on Skype.
(What was that one guy's name?)
I don't remember shit.
So we're going to Arizona for a couple of days, and I am not at all looking forward to the snow, but on the bright side; instant milkshakes from Mavericks.
How the Hell did I survive in that town for so long?
And Mister J is bringing his "girlfriend" down to stay with us for a couple of days.
I approve of this one, for once.
She's the one who threw me that going away party where I got so drunk while we were bar-hopping, that I accidentally confessed my love for Satan and then puked in the bathroom sink.
I've only puked from drinking three times in my entire life, the third was recent.
Anyhow, I was hungover on an eight hour drive back to California and I think somebody reprimanded me for posting a picture where I was smoking cigarettes?
I turned myself into a robot in order to deal with people, a doll...a lifeless, soulless creature of the night.
But I can't fix everyone.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that I've already learned all this shit.
A smart woman once told me that I "shouldn't care about things that don't matter, and people who think I don't matter."
She also told me that I "think my feelings"
For some weird reason I just thought of that one time I got drunk on the cliffs with Catwoman's friends...with that one girl who has the nice ass...and a couple of flirtatious guys whose names I can't quite remember.
How do I manage to forget about all these people?
You'd think that after all the time I've spent hanging out with all these people that I'd remember their names, even after a year or two.
I wonder how many bottles of Wild Turkey I've ingested by myself....
And how much of it my friends have wasted in an attempt to keep up with my terrible drinking habit.
Because I'm still a part-time alcoholic.
Fuck metaphorical rain.
Pants are optional.
I've been known to talk myself out of the way that I feel...
What matters?
Anti-Matter.
Yep, it doesn't matter.
The best way to describe my relationship with Satan?
My heart was always either breaking for him, or because of him.
And if I could say one thing about the past; you have to live with it.
All I ever really wanted was to just numb myself to life....
It's like that song from Rent, "How the Hell did we get here?"
It's called Halloween, if I remember right.
Maybe the universe just hates me for being a bitch.
Just send me to the mortuary, please.
I'm joking, I hate mortuaries.
Does anyone else ever count their steps when they walk?
Do you ever count someone's heartbeats?
That weird thing where I completely forget to breathe went away, I could never figure out why that used to happen.
But I would just occasionally realise that I wasn't breathing.
(God bless the Queen's English)
I miss a balcony and the ocean breeze, I love the way you can smell salt on the wind.
A drink is what I need.
I want to be far away from everything I've ever known, I have that restless feeling again...is it wanderlust?
Where I know that I'll leave and probably never come back...I'll just keep going and end up somewhere brand new.
I always said that I was just an actress, dressing up in other people's lives.
More of my fucking identity crisis, I'm glad that I grew up.
Grew out of all my goddamn personas.
I've always been a saint in sinner's clothing, forced myself to learn how to be a bitch...but look where I am now.
Fed up with every line that I've ever fed myself.
I used to have a lucky pair of jeans and everytime I wore them something amazing would happen.
I'm not kidding, literally everytime...I wore them until they fell apart.
I didn't want to be anyone's "jaded unicorn"
A certain little bunny used to have a preoccupation with recording all the excruciating details of life, but I'm not sure the details matter in the way I thought they did.
Waiting for the flames to flicker and die...
I guess you could call this improvement, at least I've managed to get rid of the feeling that I'm a scared little girl in awe of the overwhelming world around me.
The written word is a lost art.
Perhaps I'm living in some symbolic nightmare, maybe I have bad karma for all the shit that I've done.
I have this terrible feeling that I'll never be able to right all my own wrongs.
You know, maybe I don't need to offer up a fake laugh and some pointless comment.
I never know if I'm irrational because I'm depressed, or depressed because I'm irrational...am I irrational at all?
"I'll die alone, but loved."
We all bear witness to the illusion of life...of a manufactured reality.
I wonder why I used to burn my poetry...
Occasionally I miss my "happy highs"
When I would smoke weed and suddenly be thrilled to be alive.
After awhile weed started making me paranoid and moody, but that's after smoking everyday for almost three years.
It makes me moody now...
Memories are supposed to be a fundamental part of a person's psyche, but are they?
"Here it is again, yet it stings like the first time; seems it never ends double-nickels on your dime."
Some days I hate everything and everyone...
I pity the person that I used to be.
Fuck California, I've basically spent my entire life in this stupid state; born and bred, west coast bullshit.
My brain melts, sometimes it evaporates, sometimes it oozes...spilling out onto pristine white pages, like some grotesque Lovecraftian monster.
My life is years contained in pages of moments that never had a chance to matter.
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