Watch Me Burn

I'm addicted to many things. I'm addicted to change and destructive behaviors and relationships. I'm afraid of happiness and anything stable. I need change and it’s barbed wire coursing through my veins. I need it to breathe no matter how much it hurts. I'm afraid of any love, any type of caring. I don't want feelings. I love the pain of loneliness like a truck on my chest. I love the way it hurts


You may look at me and think I'm a happy person. Or just a bitch. But I do care; I just don't want to know how to show it. I don't like to have my pity parties, but in my experience you get hurt when you care. But then you start to like the hurt. Like the way it feels and not in a dominatrix way. It’s just something else to blame your problems on. Because just as in nature versus nurture, you would not be responsible for your actions. That’s how an addict thinks, and it’s contagious.

They teach you Al-Anon that you cannot change people. You only have control over your own actions. You live by the serenity prayer. Those close to those with an addiction carry the same burden as those affected. But what do you do when that's all you know? I love to be needed, but only by those too destructive to care for me. I only know of one-sided relationships.

I have pushed away so many friends over the years, the short 18 years, and denied so many other relationships.

I have a temper, it's evident and I don't take compliments well because all I think of all day is everything that is wrong with me. I don't even see how anyone is able to look at me or have a conversation with me.

That's the irony of the serenity prayer. I DO have the power to change myself, but I opt to believe I can change others. I choose to believe if I just act a certain way my dad will accept me and love me. He will think I am worthy of his time, instead of just a ride.

I stray away from those who don't need to change. I don't chase those who accept me for me. Probably because I don't accept myself. I have had many years of therapy, which is probably why I’m just so damn insightful. I so badly want to be different, but truly want to fit in.

I don't want to be in a mold, but the thought of one seems like home. I want to reinvent myself, but how do reinvent something you don't even know?

I just wish for someone to read this and say "I get it". But the sad thing is the only way I'm writing this is because I know no one will see it. You won’t see me cry or hear my voice stutter. My eyes will not stray from yours, but each day I sink more and more into myself never to blossom.

I hate many things. I hate the thought of love. The feeling of stability. The sound of happiness. The touch of affection. The air of strength. The taste of contradiction. I hate the concept of hate and I just want the feeling of acceptance.

Someday Never Comes

School’s out! Has been for awhile, just hasn’t really sunken in. Next day after graduation I started a full time job and have no other plans for the future. No college. I’m ashamed every day to think about it. I thought I had it all figured out, but I’m finding out I’m more confused than ever.

I don’t know what I want to do with my life. And I fear that just with everything else, once I get it, I won’t want it. I just want to succeed at something, but the sad thing is I don’t have the talent or the drive.

I’m doing great at my new job. I’m getting better marks than people who have been there for years. But that’s just the problem. I’m doing so well, I’ve made it. Where’s the struggle? I want something fresh and exciting!

I have limited options. I’m not creative or talented enough for any interesting job and I’m too chicken to not have a steady paycheck.

I would love to be a teacher. But considering most all, no pretty much all, of my high school teachers hated me, I don’t think I would fit in that atmosphere.

A cop would be nice, but my family would disown me. On second thought, that might be the best thing that ever happened to me.

I’m in a hurry, but I don’t have anywhere to go. Some would say there’s no where to go but up. That would be nice except I know how to mess things up in a hurry.

I guess I’m just trying to chase that next high. Life high that is, when something is new and exciting. But thanks to Creedence, I know that “someday” never comes.

Karma Is A... You Know

Ever think about karma? It's a crazy thing to think about, some force running our lives. Does that mean that all of our decisions are ours, or do we just pay for them? It is really interesting to think about, my life outside of my hands, it's almost refreshing.

I would like to believe in karama. If you do something good you get rewarded, that's really what we all want. Even better sometimes is those who do bad things get punished. And not by our law, but by the law of the universe, something much greater.

Who decides though? Is there some kind of rule book as to what is deserved for what is done? How can that be fair? It's mind-boggleing to think about. Something way greater than us, but not so much as person but a force. Not to get all Star Wars or whatever I just can't think of anything comparable.

Not only karma, but fate. Are we predestined and all of our decions are not truly ours? That almost wants me to sit back and let things happen, but then fate would already know that I was going to do that and nothing would happen. It's a catch 22. You don't have any of your own thoguhts or actions, that's actually pretty depressing.

Either way, I see how it keeps people going. The good people do good things in hopes that karma will take care of them. They are put at ease knowing the bad people will get taken care of whether in this life or the next.

Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes

I guess you could blame the lateness of this blog to senioritis, I would like to anyway. Good time to talk about the future because no matter how much I delay projects and homework, it's comeing full-throtle. And I am freaked out!

I know that I need to grow up, but now that the day is coming I want to regress even more. I have always been more grown up for my age, but now I just want to be a kid again. In a month I will be graduated and forced into adulthood, but I will be kicking and screaming the whole time.

I was trying to go to sleep the other night thinking it was the end of an era. That I will never again be so comfy in my bed in my house again. Sure, I will still have the same bed, but I will be living somewhere different without the security of home. And let me tell you, I HATE change, usually.

Basically, I know that I just need to relax and try to get things done, but that just seems like such an impossible task at this time. Right now I almost wish I could be back in kindergarten coloring, but then I think about all of the crap I had to do to being a senior. All in all I will take that diploma and run, but I'm going to grow up on my own time.

Spoiler Alert!

Death. The mention of the word will send a shiver down some people's spine. The thought is thrown out of the mind. Some people don't want to accept that they will one day die. It makes sense though, who wants to think about one day just leaving their friends and family? Not even being able to do the minute things in life. I think it all depends on your outlook and how you can cope.

For some death is a beginning, it is where they are born. Either they get to spend eternity with their maker or having their soul recycled to come back as something else, death's way of going green. But it all depends on what you did with your days on Earth, what kind of person you were that depicts where you will spend eternity. Whether in firey pits or as dung beetle.

Personally, not to get gooberly religious on you, eternity is a long time to spend with anyone, it's like forever. I think the reincarnation gets the better end of the deal. I would like to be a cockroach, they almost live forever, but not eternity. But then if you think of constantly having to come back and struggle and live a whole life, again, it's exhausting. On the other hand, bouncing around a bunch of clouds would be fun for awhile, but eternity? Either way there is no break, no resting period.

And ghosts, forget about it! Who wants scare people for, once again, eternity? Not only would that get boring, but how does that work if the thought scares even you?

However, what if when you died you were just gone? Just nothing? Thought is incredibly depressing, which brings me to my apology for this entire blog. However, in contrast to the alternatives, it really doesn't seem as bad. I think the point is, is no one knows what happens. So just in case live a good life, who wants to end up as that dung beetle or in those firey pits? And live your life because you might not get another chance.

Hopeless Romantic

Love. The greatest four letter word to some. It is the heart of every country song and on the mind of hopeless romantics. Something people dream about, sing about, and write about. However, it's really just word vomit spewing out of your mouth. Love does not exist, it's a figment of your imagination, something you have been told that you need to be happy.

But what is love? You can't touch it or hold it in your hands. It's not soft and fury. Some say love's color is red, but that is the color for hate, war, and anger. Conscience? You decide. They don't teach you how to love in school, so it must not be important considering we learn everything we need to know about life in school. You can't say what kind of love you have, A, B, or C considering it's pretty much like hepatitis. And no one wants that.

Emotions. Our ability to have them is the only thing that sets us apart from our brother primates, but do we all have the same? What you may see as love someone else may mistake for gas. What you feel as being smitten is another person's death. How do we distinguish between all of our different "feelings"? You don't.

Have you ever walked by that person so in "love" you want to ralph and completely lose that steak dinner you just shelled out for? They're farting rainbows, like something out of a bad T.V. show. They feel kindred to Romeo and Juliet, which is a a couple of idiotic teenagers crying over "love" or what I like to call hormones. I wonder if they know they are living a lie.

You may be shouting "CYNIC" from the rooftops, or perhaps evil, soon-to-be-cat-lady, but you're wrong. I hate cats. So don't kid yourself you might be in like or lust, but you are not in love. The end.

Getting the Shaft

Someone once told me that sweeping was beneath them. This really amazed me considering they didn't have the daunting task of sweeping up hair at a salon, a job that would literally have me running to the bathroom every five seconds to ralph, not to mention the tons of skin I would lose trying to scrub myself clean every night. But no, they had to sweep fitting rooms... with clothes, not sewage.

Despite the time that has passed since the aformentioned incident I have had a thorn in my side. Every time I think about those disgusting words coming out of that self-absorbed, narcissistic mouth my skin crawls. It is like acid thrown on me, poison in my veins.

It might seem slightly dramatic, however, I have known this person, Z, for over 12 years and I thought I knew them. Z and I grew up together, we came from similar backgrounds, and while I have never lied or felt ashamed of where or how I came to,
A seems to feel the need to overcompensate. It is almost a personal attack, since I am the last person to be fooled.

I do what I have to, work almost every day of the plus school and college classes, not a big deal, you do what you have to do. Do you think I enjoy washing jail trays with pubes in them?! That would be a big no considering my above mentioned quirk. So why do I? Because you do what you have to, simple to the point. I am willing and able to work for the things I need and want, not accepting handouts. Is sweeping beneath me? I believe not! I would thoroughly enjoy a job where I only had to sweep department store floors. How quickly would I be so bored and possibly suicidal/homicidal? Well, let's just say you would have to keep all semi-automatic weapons and sharp objects away from me.

Despite how angry and rueful I still feel about the comment Z made, I do feel sorry for anyone who thinks like that. How does anyone get very far in life thinking they are God's gift to the world? Without hard work one does not know how to appreciate the things they are able to get for themselves. When I see my paycheck, however measly (hey, it's minimum wage), I can remember the crap I had to do to earn it, the hours spent, the hard work put in and I am proud. It is one of the best feelings knowing that I am able to support myself with honest, good work.

Now, of course, the vengeful side of me knows that when I come to rule the world I will give out the worst jobs to those with their nose stuck up so high they can't see their Prada shoes. And those who have to suck up their pride just to go to work in the morning to make a living would get jobs where people don't treat them like the scum of the earth, they would get the respect they deserve for taking care of their families. They would no longer have to feel ashamed if while they were mopping our footprints they ran into one of their kid's or a neighbor.

Word to the wise, it wasn't your waiter's dream to serve you, and you aren't the king so throw in a thank you. Ask for things, don't demand them, and never be rude to the person with direct access to your food, "Waiting" need I say more? And smile, just because they don't speak English doesn't mean they don't have feelings and you aren't their American dream despite what you may think.

In conclusion, I wish I could write all my essays under the subject late-night rant, everybody needs to be brought down to earth-- so clean my house, and my car needs a fresh coat of wax. Those people you so ignoratly look down upon make things run and are people too. What does it matter what you did to get that paycheck, legally of course, as long as you can support yourself and those reliant on you. Think how dirty our floors would be if there was no one to sweep or mop. Or how hungry those inmates would be if I didn't wash their pube-filled trays after dinner. Clean floors and jail trays, well thats just American.