msjessica's Diaryland Diary

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woe is me (fuck everything)

ahhh haaa hmmm

my computer is very slow.

i've been thinking over an over of the half line "the weather licked her like a stamp"

i picked up some extra work, i don't know how to charge because i don't know what my time and effort and knowledge and experience is worth.

all around me i only have men to talk about this with and for them it is so easy, they are so cocky and will always ask for MORE than they think they're worth because they just always cheat and lie to people, and over estimate their importance.

i haven't been buying heroin or food really but now all my money is going to top shelf booze.

living on bloody mary's or hot toddy's and sometimes it's hard to breathe (i don't mean that symbolically). last week i thought i'd be dead by this time this week. i'm not, obviously.

no one i talk to actually asks me how i am. i ask them, and then they talk and tell me. and then they end the conversation.

i think of so many reasons for it. they know i'll lie. they don't even realise, people are so self centered they mostly just want an audience, not a relationship, not a back and forth, they want someone there but don't think to be a there for a someone. darker, deeper, they don't care. i think they do care? i have to tell myself they do, even if they don't show it.

the ones who i am keeping close to now, say my mother and my brother, their sadness is so acute an so inescapable as mine and they know i see it, we talk about it, i call them on it. no one does this for me, i am the youngest, i stand on some strange shelf hidden from view but with a great viewpoint. i want to kill the things that limit them. sometimes it's people, sometimes it's substance, sometimes it's emotion, sometimes it's air, as tangible and name-able as air. i would kill for them, if it would make any difference.

thats where i get stuck sometimes.

i think me dying would help them. would bring them all together like it was before i was born. i was such an accident, they were splintered then already, and almost ready to fall apart but then I came and they all had to endure another ten years and those were the years that broke everyone. it was my being born that ruined these people. i know i've given them love in between, but maybe if i die i can bring them back together again, make them ok, they are all so fucked up and broken because of how i ruined their trajectory. things would have been so different if not for me.

and i have never felt comfortable here anyway, have always felt temporary. i spoke to my grandmother the other day and she said to me "stay young. don't get old. just stay young forever". jesus christ. of course i couldn't tell her, i know, i'm trying.

what is life for me? i think i start to move forward and then i just break so hard. do other people feel like this? do the people who feel like this get over it, end up having happy lives? i mean really, is it not better that i just die before it gets so much worse, and then my family come together again? things will go up and own for me forever, there is no real place for me here - yes i can keep going on feeling experiences, drugs, sex, joy, love, pain, sadness, learning, all of those things on and on and on and on... i cannot see a place where i have... i don't see myself living the lives presented to me.

i don't feel built for life beyond more than what i have. and i know the worth is not just in what is immediately visible. like with this work thing, it's not just the money. things ripple, things are both good and bad, will give to you and rob you.

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i know that people love me. i know that those people that love me.... they don't MEAN to forget to ask how i am, and it doesn't happen every time. it seems that it's when people are scared of the answer, they don't ask. i know i'm guilty of the same thing. because what can you do? fucking nothing. except listen, i guess, but only if the suffering person will talk and we hardly ever do for so many reasons. there are other people who just get so self involved that when they do ask, and you start talking....... you can FEEL their eyes glaze. is it my fault? or theirs? i have flashbacks to being an early teen telling my mother about my day and realising she wasn't listening so i'd start talking nonsense just to watch her respond to it, fake answers like she'd heard, like it matered, like i mattered. i've done the same things with boyfriends, with my dad, with co-workers, with my sister, with friends, with myself in dreams. they fail more than they pass. it's pretty rare for people to actually give a fuck about anything outside of their own direct shit, or something they can post of facebook to show what a caring person they are. There are 3 people in my life who work in mental health/social services and it actually terrifies me as they seem so insensitive and harmful in those areas. Maybe they only use their training when they're getting paid and now in their personal lives which also scares the fuck out of me, why aren't people just..... better people? why is everyone so fucked up?

people don't care.

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my sister. who i could write a fucking novel about. or spit bullets about. nevermind.

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anyway i haven't written for awhile because i'm fragile and bitter and constantly heart broken by people. heart broken in this sense meaning.... we are all ruined. someone, somewhere ruined us all. and now we all have to try and live together but it's fucking dreadful. and YES i know life is beautiful and gives so much, i feel that to a fucking pin prick as well.

12:42 a.m. - 2015-08-02

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