a smoker's paradise

It stinks. I can feel the smell seeping into every cell in my body, slowly creeping in from without to poison me...poison me down to my very core.

Perhaps I'm being a little melodramatic.

I cannot stand the constant smell of smoke now. It feels so toxic. Maybe I'll get to have cancer in time for my birthday! Cancer for a cancer....right....har har....

Every day is a struggle. Every freaking day. I either struggle doing NOTHING, or struggle trying to do EVERYTHING. The only in between is confusion and illness. Those also overlap of course with nothing and everything....such a headache.

I'm such an arrogant little others-pleasing twat sometimes. That seems a little contradictory but my attempts to please others so obviously stem from a need to boost my own ego it really isn't at all.

But part of me can't help but feel a little indignant. A little selfish. I can't figure out how to not feel selfish all the time...or whether I'm incorrect about the whole concept of selfishness....or if I'm just too selfish to permit myself to understand it..or do something about it....ugh...its such a strong smell.

When will I ever learn how to behave? Probably never. I fail so miserably at actual meaningful relationships with others. I always let them down, don't I? Even if they don't realize I'm letting them down, I am. What could I do to stop this problem? I don't know. I'm at a loss.

Or maybe it just isn't possible to be 100% all the time. There has to be a little room for me, somewhere. Whether or want there to be or not. I think I do....I think so....I think...it would help. To say the least. Smokey tears...

FUCKING A PLEASE STOP IT. PLEASE STOP THIS TORTURE. I feel as though there are screws twisting down through my lungs toward my heart, clinching me from all sides. That is what it is like when you do this. STOP IT..........................................................................................please..................................................................................

D.I.D. I ?

Ah, finally finished the report. Shutdown computer. Plug in. Turn off lights. Trudge to bathroom. Remove contacts, wash face, brush teeth, head to bed. Lay down. 

A hundred faces flash though my head. Words spoken in other voices than my own. Actions I witnessed or performed from earlier in the day repeat, seemingly at random. Laying down, wishing I could sleep, I dwell on the feelings laid out in front of me, mostly inadvertently, by friends, coworkers...or even the briefest encounters with near strangers.

I lay here unable to let go of any of these other than my own emotions, actions, or ideas. I internalize them. I digest them slowly, randomly, and anxiously, wishing for the endless stream of information to end.

 I wonder what my own emotions are. Or rather, where they are. Oh where oh where has my little self gone? Come back, come back...

Or stay away...let me be empty of self or other. Let me be full of Grace. 

Check-in

Still troping along at warp speed, I suppose. Waxy fingers across my forehead; sweat collects between the joints. Aching flashes of tropical sunsets and mile high clubs pass through me like a heartbeat. All I want to do is live! Live, live, live...

How silly. I am more alive than ever; however, yet to feel it.

Poo nuggets

Post-content.

Gosh, geez, gee willackers... Where am I right now? Some kind of endless spiraling staircase of stress and uncertainty, maybe. Perhaps. But probably not really at all. This is what life is really like. Outside of your little fantasy life you've lived, this is it.

Am I really so sensitive that it seems wrong? Is real life too much for me to bear by my very nature? Sometimes I wonder. But at the same time, here I am, living this life, making it work. It is working, I think, even as I feel caught in a kind of clamorous calamity. I wonder if this endless waxing and waning on and on about my life is even worth anything. Does it have an effect on it? Is reflection a truly useful tool? I have met some very interesting people. They live and breathe and die just like i do, but they don't seem to have ever really reflected on any of it.

And they seem...happy. Blessed, even. Very particularly blessed to be able to fin joy and peace even in hard times without having to sit and and speculate about them.

Perhaps my blessing is different. Perhaps all the years I've yearned for simplicity are simply impossible for me because I've been blessed with the ability to complicate everything. Maybe that's good somehow even if I don't want to admit it. Some would call it depth I guess, or wisdom or something, but really it's just complicatedness, which is usually unnecessary! Oh I could go on and on forever but I'm boring myself now.

What an odd day. Now that I can create my own schedule sort of, I find I sometimes have these precarious bouts of time where I simply cannot work as I should be. A client cancels. A behavioral therapist has an issue. Something across town needs to get faxed immediately, but oh wait it's in the car of someone who won't pick up their phone. My schedule is like a moving target, constantly veering out of my crosshairs just as I'm about to pull the trigger. It is just the nature of this work, sadly, so it is something I must learn to roll with. Too bad I can't just ring a bell and match my internal stress frequency to the sound. That'd be swell. It would help, kind of a lot.

Erudite. Cool word.

Post title

Vanity met with more vanity. This is all we have.

Everything I say or do feels compelled by arrogance. Me, me, me. When will I stop throwing all these pity parties and just get over everything, right? How the heck am I supposed to do that?

Still such arrogance. I can't trust anyone. It's been squashed down inside me by my pride. Or self pity, whatever it is exactly. And it leaves me hopeless and lost and stuck in a daze. Fear and anger and anxiety beyond what I can handle, stupidly enough. I'm such a coward. Why do I seek sympathy from anyone at all? Why do I crave a comforting word or two from another human being? I don't deserve it and it wouldn't do any good would it? Just affirm my prideful self pity...

Oh just get over yourself girl. Your problems are nothing. Obviously everyone else can handle such trivial issues as your own, no problem. And if they can't well they can trust in The Lord so why can't you do that? Why not? ANSWER. ME. No, don't even bother I know you can't forget it I'm leaving you, I can't take it anymore. You're too full of yourself to take the leap, you coward.

Wah wah wah why don't you cry some more because your mom was so nasty to you? You infant. Wake up and pray like you ought to. Read the Word. What the heck is your problem feeling overwhelmed when you have The Lord !? Who provides all the love and compassion and care any little human could ever need and more. Well you must not really have Him then you fool. Pull the wool from your eyes and realize how much you've let yourself believe you had gained, no inherited, wisdom. You useless unfortunate little girl...thing.

You will always be alone. Trapped in your own prideful cowardice and pity, the terror ripping across your brain like a writhing electric wire. A nice excuse for paralysis, to stay stuck. Can't you free yourself? Can't you simply call out to the one who can save you?

No. I can't. Maybe someday with enough of this torturous life when I'm old and worn out from the constant stress pounding me into mush. Maybe then. But who knows. It will take a lot,to break this. To break myself. It feels as though I should have suffered enough by now to have had it happen but apparently not. My defenses are well fortified. Is it really only me here? Still feels like it. If I'm real. If anythings real. He is real. But he has given up on me.... And of course He is real. My dreams know it better than I do. But am I? Or am I just the frayed remnant of a girl who was born and cast immediately into the shadows? Oh cry cry cry you little wasp. Maybe someone will read this and their heart will break for just a moment before it goes on beating, healthy and alive. Where is my vitality? Surrendered to pride...pity...who knows... Lost...la la la....

Maybe I should just try and help him find salvation and be satisfied with that. Maybe that's the Lords plan all along.

I'm sorry. For all of this senseless self imposed tribulation. I wish I could tear it off like an old carapace and be done with for good.

All of it vanity and a striving after the wind.

And you can't stop thinking about her....

Worn me down like a road.

Me me me. I can't help but make it about me. I'm going to love him still if I can muster up the energy at the end of a crazy psycho long day.... But I can't stop thinking about how he said I was uglier...

Maybe someday I will I hope...