I’ve been away. whoops.

If this post sounds bitter- it is.

Oh goodness. So my heart and I have reunited, and tonight I began writing some new rough poems to get some of the emotions out and start dealing, and I forgot how exhausting it all is. I’ve got the old stuff still brooding around inside and the new stuff filing in like there’s just in abundance of room for pain in my soul. I assure you there is not. It’s pushing around, my emotional insides are like a mosh pit. I thought when my heart came back it’d be more of a little mermaid moment. When she reunites with her voice and gets her prince. I suppose all those damn movies were toxic in that way. Giving me a sense of magic and hope. They should really set out a line of truth friendly Disney movies. Bambi was close.

Maybe like a sleeping average looking lady who never wakes up.

A hopeless Cinderella who sneaks drinks of vodka to deal with the unfair demands placed on her by the bitches she serves.

Or a snow white with a prince, but without the charming – a highly flatulent prince perhaps with an verbally abusive nature.

Beauty and the unplanned pregnancy.

Fox and terminal hound.

Nothing in childhood sets us up for the pain that awaits us in adulthood. I suppose I did run straight into my out of the gate, a bit before actually. I mean that sweet hope got be through the first few onslaughts, but now it’s long gone and my cynical angry sad wit has taken it’s place. And while I don’t turn to drugs or alcohol, and have stopped overeating/emotional eating. I have found myself turning into a compulsive shopper. I need a healthy habit. Like an obsessive exerciser, without going to that anerexcoriser.

I work. I worry. I watch TV. And I do yoga. That is my life.

College won’t bring be anything new, ya know, other than education, and some attractive distractions.

I’m so friggin tired. It feels good to write though. It’s like quitting a habit you love, like smoking, and that first drag after a long absence. It feels to damn good.

I met a cute boy at work. He goes to . Score. I _________wouldn’t mind cuddling up next to him at school. I think his name his _______. He’s tall. Wavy short brown hair. He talked to me. Maybe my come hither look worked? No piercing or odd colored hair, and yet I find myself incredibly drawn to him sexually and on a friend level. He writes. AWESOME. The scary thing about other writers though is they have a more critical eye of others writing. Not that I really foresee us getting to a point I’d share my writing.

But MAN he is a cutie.

I’ve been buying stuff like crazy. It’s not filling the void. Like crack doesn’t either. Like a bottle of vodka wouldn’t like nothing will. I’ve got to face the facts, but it’s so much nicer simply not.

Bleck. That’s how I feel exhausted and bleck. And also a little aroused? That’s the human condition for ya. We are an odd mix of animal instinct and emotional turmoil.

I haven’t painted or drawn in a very long time. It’s not time. My art comes in waves. It’s building up, and it will come out, passionately, painfully, and fantastically, but you can’t rush it. My painting is best untapped for long periods of time. I suppose that’s why I could never paint for a living. OH that and lack of real talent — or that may be why I could make a fortune at it. COUGH Jason Pollock(spellcheck).

I’m off to reread some old poems and add some new. I will attempt to write more. Actually I probably won’t I just say things I don’t mean because it makes me more likeable for a moment…that I should work on but probably won’t.

P.S. sometimes I lie and I see no purpose to other than to have a reason to talk. Neurotic much?