My demons have full control of me. If I should do something, my demons tell me not to, so I don’t. if something could be really really big for me, my demons tell me not to bother, I’ll only fail. I’ve been giving in for so long I know I’ll never ever stop being controlled. And that sucks. Because I know I’m great, somewhere deep inside me is a person who is FUCKING AWESOME. But I’ve been under the spell of anxiety and fear for so long I can only unlock her with lots and lots of wine and fun solitude. I see her in fits and spurts, flashing to life dacing to a song for a moment before the demon whispers ‘someone will see you and you will be humiliated for the rest of your life, you graceless lanky cunt.’ In a brave moment I choose, in a manic burst of selfhood, to smile and be true to myself rather than overanalyze to the point of panic, and the demon makes me shrink back into myself and curse every moment of freedom until it becomes shame and ash. The demons of anxiety have stolen joy, freedom, happiness- have stolen who I really am, only loosening the leash just long enough that I can breathe when I’m drinking or around my kind of people-hippies, nerds, and weirdos. I want so desperately to be who I could be, or more correctly who I could have been, since the demon stole so much of my time that now I know I can be nothing. But even if I didn’t know the demon reminds me daily, ‘you ruined everything. Everyone hates you, you fucking moron. You’re stupid and worthless and have no original thoughts, but even if you did no one would care about them. No one listens to you or pays attention to you, and why would they? All your thoughts are stupid. Your existence is a waste. You’ve let down everyone you’ve ever loved.’
‘don’t bother saying that. It’s the wrong thing, and besides, no one cares.’
‘why would you say that? You’re such a stupid useless bitch.’
‘don’t try. You know what happens when you try. Everyone gets to see you fail, and you’ll be humiliated.’
‘my god, you’re such a stupid awkward pathetic miserable cunt. Why did you bother to leave the house today?!’
‘that awkward silence from the other person is because they’re trying not to say that you’re a loser who doesn’t even have a full grasp on the power of speech. You fucking idiot.’
I’ve heard this shit on a near-daily basis, it’s the only way of life I’ve ever known. It’s like fighting the boss level for 20 years and never winning, and it’s like being beaten on the sidewalk while everyone you love looks down and wonders why you can’t stop punching yourself and it’s like having that asshole bully from school in your brain and it’s like every bad and embarrassing thing that ever happened to you is always hovering around you and telling you why you should never do anything ever because they might happen again and it’ll definitely be worse this time and you’re so stupid and don’t bother trying and they all remember this and laugh at you about it daily.
Anxiety disorder is like every worst nightmare you ever had but it never gets dim, never fades, and is always, always, always, always there.
i feel like i’m going to die.
it’s 86 degrees here, at 8:30 in the evening. and my skin is about two degrees from melting off my skeleton. that’s how i’m going to die- massive full-body skin slippage.
it’s ONLY MAY
jesus christ what the fuck is going on
The Hobbit collector’s edition with illustrations by the author! purchased from Thinkgeek.
i can’t even express in words how much i love this book. it was one of the most influential books of my childhood, and to have such a beautiful copy is such an honor. (i may or may not have pledged on it to never see any of the other ‘Hobbit’ movies ever ever ever). also, i may have cried. just a little. (or a lot, shut up, I’ve been reading this book since i could read, and it’s fucking beautiful. i’m allowed.)
p.s. if you buy one of these gorgeous things for yourself, you’re not allowed to see any Hobbit sequels unless and until they actually make them about the book. hey, i didn’t make the rules.
watching Order of the Phoenix- there’s an HP marathon on. i can’t imagine what it must be like to play Dolores Umbridge. after one day as her i’d have to bleach my soul.
i recently found a whole bunch of books and artwork from kindergarten and elementary school i my basement, and thought, hey! i should make a photoclog.
typewriters. yes. i am old.
i never had a huge bear. also, i liked to brag about the fact that i loved to read. ;)
hell yeah, baby self! this was in one of my school’s Books About Me, and the question was your favorite book characters. my teacher had to write down the name of what i’d drawn on nearly every page of all of them.
i don’t remember a single one of these people.
my mom worked in a pet shop before i was born. also i didn’t believe in leaving spaces between my words, when i actually wrote some down in these books.
or perhaps a goldwhale. i’m not sure what that is.
an excerpt from my story Troll Party Surprise. i was REALLY into Trolls at that point in my life. also, as you can see, i was a bit of a rebel when it came to lines and spaces.
the only thing in there that i remember at all, and very clearly at that, was a thing i did in kindergarten, where we melted crayon onto a piece of waxed paper cut into an egg shape. it smelled awful and was so incredibly fun that my brain still remembers how it felt to this day.
it’s strange what we hang onto. anway, thanks for making it to the bottom. hope you’ve enjoyed. :D