Dear Tod.

Fuck you.
Fuck you.
I hate you more than anything in the world.
I hate you some much that I gave you a nickname. 
(T1D, so just Tod.)
It's not funny.

I've never really hated this before.
Tonight is the first time I can remember that I have actually been like,
frustrated, anger, pissed off.
That I fucking have this.

I am actually crying I hate it so much.

I had half a coffee, not even that much sugar.
And my blood sugar is through the freaking roof.
No amount of saltine's is going to help.

And I can't afford insulin.

The way health care works is such shit.
You're healthy? Here is  cheap health insurance that you won't really use all that much.
You have some kind of 'issue'? Fuck you. Pay a shit ton and we will barely help you.
Doesn't even make sense.
Can't afford health care alone, let alone the medicine.
I've been able to cope so well.
I don't know what is wrong tonight.
It actually hurts.
My body, my mind, and my spirit.

I don't even know why I keep it such a secret.
[Lie. You know why.]
Yeah. It makes me feel so weak. 
It just hurts so bad.
I don't want anyones pity.
It just sucks so hard.

Tod, you are ruining me.

Nervous belly.

Meeting someone for the first time.
Is so nerve racking.
I usually bail out.
But I haven't lately.
I never make plans and break them, when possible.
If plans are made, I go through with it.
I just get so nervous before hand.

Like, the first time with Brian.
I was a wreck.
I thought I couldn't do it.

But I did.

And now with Rory.
My stomach is in knots.
I'm excited and anxious.

And some day, Dillon.

I'm shaking.
I don't know if he will notice.

Being nervous is so silly.
It's so pointless.
It's going to be fine.
Right?
Right?
Right?  
 

A-way oh.

I have such small lips. 
My mouth is so tiny.

I'm not used to having hair in my eyes.
I hate my eyebrows. 
My chin is so big.
My right eye is permanently blood shot.
No idea why.
It just is. 
My hands are weird.
Super wrinkly. 
My teeth are crooked. 
I'm pretty hairy, for a lady.
I have so many scars.
When I got chicken pox, I scratched them and they scared.
I used to be fatter.
So now I have stretch marks.
On my sides.
And on my ass.
On. My. Ass.
What even is that.
And on my lower back.
It's weird.
And I hate them.
My skin is never the same color.
Some parts are darker and redder than others.
My chest is always pale and sickly.
My ass is always a weird shade of red.
My face is lumpy.
That one doesn't make sense, really.
Unless you saw it up close.
My tongue is weird. 
My nose doesn't fit my face.
My eyebrows are too low and too big.
My knees bend inwards.
I'm bow legged.
My arms are hairy.
My eyes are so weird. 
My butt is so weird.
It looks all right in pants.
But so awful naked.
I have muffin tops.
Hardcore.
I have a weird belly.
I can't seem to get skinnier.
My ribs are such a weird shape.
My nails are awful.
My feet get dry.
My thighs are massive.
I get so many ingrown hairs. 
I have a long neck.
I actually like that one.
And my collarbone.
Two things.
On an entire body.
That I am mildly okay with.

I guess my hair is okay too.




This was so easy to type.
But so hard.

The fuck.

I wish I could.

I wish I was pretty.
I wish I was desired.

I wish someone wanted to spend every minute of every day with me.

Meh.

It's three in the morning.
I smell pretty bad.
I need to shower.
I need to sleep.
I need to get over it.
Meh.

I don't have anything productive to say.
I'm still kind of sick.

Don't know what I'm more excited for:
Today-
Going to make snowmen and stir fry with Rory.
[You don't have a chance with someone named "Rory." Let's be real.]
Yeah. I'm aware.
[How can you live so damn close to a Rory and not be aware of his exsistance.]
Shut up. K?
Then a party.
WEEW.
Then late night pancakes with Dan.
That can only go well.
[You have so many suitors. You are a slut. None of them even like you.]
Can we not.

Tomorrow-
Walking Dead returns.
And I can't wait.
[You realize you're a major loser, right?]
Yeah. I get it.

Corporate rock is for suckers.

Picture time.
 It's just the Eco Geek logo. Getting it tattooed. Woo.

 

How to be a metal man.

I cut my hair. Finally.

It's different, I swear. Maybe in different light.

It's shorter on the sides and the back.

I didn't die it, the light in my bedroom just sucks.

It will be redyed red again soon.

It looks so much better now.

It does look all right when I actually do it.

This is a good sweater and I don't care what you think of it.

I wish I looked like an actual human.

Maybe if I tried to take decent pictures.

I'm sick, so that is my excuse.

Dem dimples.

Dem collarbones.

I have officially committed to a new tattoo.

I am going to get two small antlers behind my ears.

When people call me "dear" I will laugh.

Because I will be a deer.

I will have all the doe.

The buck stop here.

Play on words.

I haven't slept.

I'm getting my belly button pierced on Sunday.

Because I can.

Why not?

I need to do something different.

Worth a shot.

What could it hurt?

Apparently not Sunday. 

But soon.

Merp.

I should clean today.

Do some laundry.

There is supposed to be a huge storm coming.

They're calling it Nemo.

Cute.

I have the hiccups.

I AM SEXY.

Sing me a song.

 

Wind me up.

Or am I just a boiler with nothing inside?

I've decided to not call Brian until I move out. 
Which should be soon.
 As soon as I get a job. 
Which should also be soon.
Moving in with Rory, potentially.
As soon as I get a steady job. 
I may have a super part time job working at a sunglass kiosk in the mall.
Only 10-15 hours a week.
Better than nothing. 
Meh. 
Still looking.

I want him to see that, without him, my life will be good.
All the stuff he wished I had before,
The life I wished I had on my own,
The stuff he promised he would give me.
That is what I am going to have.
I will show him what I am capable of.
[Oh ho ho. You showed him.]
Wow. Really?
Not now. Loser.

Really, you don't know what you took from me.
What really hurts, is that I can't listen to Billy Talent right now without it pulling on my heart strings.
 That sucks.
But thank you for showing me them.

Why am I dwell on it?
This is the most I've thought about Brian in a while.
It's been.... nice?
Meh.
I sure do miss him.
But there are others.
Still feels so weird. 

[Seriously. Just stop. He doesn't even care.]
I know.

Today I am going to go through all of my shit (again) for donations.
I have a few big bags of stuff, just not sure where to drop it off easily. 
Meh. 
There has to be somewhere close. 

My boobs feel really quite big right now.
I do wish they were a bit bigger.
More.... perfect? 
In a sense. 
More noteworthy.
More desirable.

I think I am just about over the plague.
Just the lingering little bits now.
 Or maybe I'm just used to being sick now.

I ate too many Cheez-its. 

Usually at this point in the morning, I have some kind of breakdown.
Or crazy deep thoughts. 
Like listening to Catch 22.
Or dieing. 
But not today.
I don't know.
I feel kind of... happy?
But not really.

Maybe I should start smoking.
Really not such a good idea.
Maybe I will just buy a pack and keep it in my bag.
Just in case. 
Need something. 
y' know?

Picture time.
This bad boy is from a comic. 
Fat Ninja. 
I bought the first one because it seemed silly.
I can't seem to find the rest of the run.

I need a haircut

My sleep schedule is so fucked.
I don't even know anymore. 
Taking nyquil just makes me sleep all day.
Meh.

Oh hey.
I have plans on Wednesday. That I have to be awake at noon for.
Not missing it again.
Have to go see the GSA. 
Miss those guys.
And it will be Emily's birthday on Thursday. 
Woo!

Rory asked me out for Valentine's Day.
I don't even know the kid.
That is way too much pressure for a first date. 
 So, no thanks.
But his name is Rory.
Come on. 
Meh.
Not the same. 
Not the same.

Now I'm just waiting for the apartment to be empty so I can find something to eat.
And shower. Then I will go to Lucky Dog. 
Maybe cut my hair today, finally. 
Dye it.
The works.

I'd be okay with dieing. 
Not to the point of suicide, 
But I would be okay with it.
[Not that you ever could, anyway. Pussy.]
Not helping.

But you're right.
If I were to be hit by a bus, or take too many pills, or go into a sudden coma. 
I could accept it. 
It wouldn't be the worst thing.
Let it happen.
Y' know?
Not that I'm going to go out and try.
Nothing to worry about.
Seriously.


I wish there was some deep way I could put my thoughts down.
Metaphors and similes rather than just out right saying I'm okay with dieing.
 
I used to want to because of my sisters, the way life was, the shit I was put through.
They always seemed to be better than me. More talented, prettier. 
They were allowed to cry.
I was just a fucking kid.
I thought I couldn't do it anymore.
Now. 
Now, I don't compare myself to them.
I don't want to be like them.
I am me. 
This person seems to be worse than who they wanted me to be. 
I'm not such a fan of me, but that's not the point.
Hating myself and dieing are two separate issues, if that makes sense.
[It doesn't.]
It does to me.

Well.
This got sad fast.
Let's not talk about it. 
K?

Picture time. 
Should draw more.
I drew this one for Brian, even before our first date.
Something about a Roman bear. 
He wanted me to draw it. So I did.
I ripped it out, so I could give it to him. 
It's tapped in my notebook now.
[It still kind of hurts.]
I know.
I know.

1234 1234

It may be lack of sleep, or everything in the past few months slamming into me all at once, but this fucking song. 
Fuck.
[Let's curse some more. Makes you seem classy as shit.]
It has been my favorite for so many years now. 
It's always stirred something inside, just a bit.

But today.
Right now.
Shit.

It started slow.
It came on shuffle.
Hell yeah, I'll listen to this. Nice job shuffle. High five.
[Loser.]

As it goes, I feel. 
I fucking feel everything and nothing, all at the same goddamn time.
And it's awesome. 
It's so fucking awesome.

The song ends.
Put it on repeat.
Keep fucking feeling. 
For once in your goddamn pathetic life, fucking feel. 
Tear down that fucking wall you put up.
No need for it.
You fucking pussy.

I go along.
Lyrics quietly to myself.
At least you're feeling.

Song ends.
Play it again.

The longer the song goes, the louder I fucking get.
All of it, just all of it.

Song ends.
Don't stop.
Just one more time.

I'm fucking belting it now.
I can feel every fiber of my being.
Brain, pushing all the shit further out of reach.
You don't need to think of it anymore.
You're a big boy now, take responsibility.
My stomach, sore from coughing for days.
It doesn't care. 
You're a wet cigarette. 
Lips cracked, no need for water now.
There is more than meets the eye.
I'm fucking crying. 
And for once, it feels good.
Throat, begging, just to stop. 
But I'm not going to.

It feels so fucking good. 

Your battle's been won.
You sit back and smile, this is what you hum, you hum.

Sleep

The fuck has happened to my sleep schedule.
It used to be I could fall asleep around nine and wake up at seven.
Like a fucking normal person.
That is so overrated.
Now I'm up all night, fall asleep whenever, wake up whenever.
It's 11 in the morning, and I still haven't slept.

Yesterday I fell asleep around nine in the morning. Woke up around six, took some dayquil, fell back asleep two hours later, woke up around 10 and was up all night.
[Not complaining.]

Sleeping all day makes it feel wasted. 
To counter balance, maybe I should find a night job. Or an online job.
Something to give this dull existence meaning.

Fuck I'm a loser. 

All the things.

Something I realized:
Whenever I meet new people- online or otherwise
[Come on. We all know it's online.] Shut up. I'm trying to make a point.-
Once they ask "So what do you like to do?" or "What are your hobbies?"
I pretty much know the conversation will either go no where or be forced and awkward.

Who the fuck am I.

Deadpool thing I tried up there. Get it? No? Moving on.

Here is how nights seem to go for the past few days. Nights. Whatever:
It's three in the afternoon. Suddenly, I am awake. 
Or any where before three. I'm not picky. 
Look at phone. Everyone seems to need me before noon. 
I let them all down, not caring like the bad ass mother fucker that I am.
I text like, two, maybe three of these people back.
I'm so fucking popular.
Cough out a lung.
Hate plague.
Die.
Foreplay skype with Dillon.
Watch an episode or two of Walking Dead.
Really just killing time until the sun sets.
That's when the fun starts.
Play a game or two of LoL while making fun of fatty.
Die countless times.
Ensure that we lose.
Really, I give him many more reasons to make fun of me than he does.
Because you're fat.
That's right. You.
You're a fatty.
Good thing I'm into that.
Four hour Skype call.
Feel way too fucking sappy.
Insult Dillon again.
Y' know.
For good measure.
Complain about my hair.
And everything else.
Hang up.
Text. 
Watch more Walking Dead.
Sleep. 
Or not.
More often, not.
At least not until what most people would consider 'Mid-morning.'
Fuck you, most people.

Sleep.
Lately, I've been going to sleep when I feel like it. 
Not saying 'oh damn. It's nine in the morning. Maybe I should sleep.'
Fuck that. 
Once it hurts to keep my eyes open, that's when I sleep.
And I sleep pretty soundly, and not for very long.
It's nice. I can run all day on three solid hours.

Then again, that's three hours for being sick in bed.
Yay.

I'm loving being single right meow.
Although I could listen to that damn voice all night. 
I do miss being allowed to be openly cheesy about everything, though.
Fuck feelings. Whatever happens, eh? In general. About everything.
Kind of weird. For once, I'm not just, diving head first into anything.
Just kind of, letting it be. Let it do it's own thing.
Not thinking too much about anything. 
Not over analyzing every little thing.
Much more... relaxing. 
It's so nice. 

Then again, it could just be lack of emotional need.
I do miss the closeness.
Falling asleep next to someone, waking up to kisses.
Ah man. Kissing. 
Holding hands. 

Like for once I feel like a human. A whole human.
Not needing anyone to fill some kind of vacancy.
Emotionally full?



The fuck am I talking about.

I can lift a car.

Well. Here we are.

Enough time has passed that I do not feel bad about moving on. But I still kind of do.
Meh.
I still have to fucking call him.
How could you do this to someone. 
Not so much the breaking up with, but all the other stuff.
How can you turn around so fast. What did I do.

ANYWAY.

I got a dick pic tonight.
;3

I have the plague. Hardcore.

I got Emily a flask for her birthday. Hurray. And a mug.
I made you a fucking mug. 
Happy fucking birthday.
Now I can fucking swear at you and shit.
Fucking 18.
But not yet.
Meow meow meow.

I've lost a bit of weight lately. 
My collarbones look pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. 

Maybe I'll start putting up pictures of shit I draw. Will do.

I've been watching a butt ton of Walking Dead lately. 
I am hooked. 

I wish I had something interesting to say.
Life is dull. 

Remember when I tried to draw the Hulk, but it just looked like Justin Bieber? 
BIEBER SMASH.
This notebook has little pictures of musicians on each page. 
Cute.

 

I am sad.

To whoever gooogled this, Hi.

Everything sucks right now.  
Brian dumped me hardcore.
Like a sack of potatoes.
Like last years shoes.

It was really out of the blue, too. Not like 'we have a problem, let's try to fix it.'
Just, 'hey, I don't love you anymore. Sucks, doesn't it.'
Yeah. It does.

So I get to be a whiny bitch about it, for however long I want. 
It happened last Tuesday, for the record.
The day after I made the 'Obi Wan' mug. 
So, I have an Obi Wan mug. It mocks me.

I'm not as sad as I'm letting on.
Not as sad as I was.
I cried the entire first day.
I was in such shock.
The second day was easier. Mildly.
I've been progressively crying less and less. 
Like backwards cry contractions.
It's like a constantly level of adequate sadness, 
then insane highs of sadness.
Then back down again.
Again and again and again.











j
James and Pete have really been helping me.
And I can't thank them enough.




I want to document how sad I am right now.
So I can remember.
And whatnot.



I know we weren't together for all that long,
but he promised me so much.
The first (and only) time he ever even vaugely mentioned that he was worried about my age,
Well, that was the first time he ever told me he loved me.
So, forgive me for thinking that you were okay with it.

Then not long after, he told me he wanted me to move in with him. 
"After the holidays."
Then he said he wanted to put it off "just a month or two."
So I didn't bother to get another job for "just a month or two."
I had even been looking at jobs down in Gardner. Oh well.


Today, I met a girl who moved to the next town over from Gardner.
And a guy who works with Brian.
All by coincidence. 
 All by sucky coincidence.

I am sad. 

After the whole fiasco with Ryan, at least I had some kind of happiness for a few months.
I'm not trying to make him feel bad or anything,
I don't hate him.
I just wish he knew how bad it hurts.

Plus, he isn't just going to go away forever. 
He still has my favorite pants, watchmen, a bunch of books, probably a few socks. 

I am sad.

Fuck everything.

Don't you dare think of me as a bitch. Ever. You have no right. Compared to what you did to me, I'm a fucking angel. You have no right to do this shit to anyone, for any reason. What reason did you have? I'm a bit younger than you. At least I respected you. I never lied to you. I always told you when there was something wrong. You didn't have the balls to tell me you didn't love me anymore. And that is the lowest of the low. When your friends ask what happened, you better not lie to them either. Tell them the truth. Tell them that you - a supposedly super old super awesome guy who is better than everyone who is a bit younger than you- broke this 18-year old little girls heart because he was too chicken shit to tell her the truth before it was too late, keeping the lies going until the very end. In actuallity, this "young" girl has more guts than you ever will. Tell them you were an ass to her. 
Plus, breaking up over text? Who is the teenage girl here?

Never forget how you felt tonight.

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day is one month away.
I was trying to think of something I could do for Brian.
I was thinking of getting him a nice present, maybe a sonic toothbrush or another rubiks cube or something.
But nothing felt right.
It all felt very.... commercial.
None of it felt right.
It just felt kike more meaningless shit that anyone could get him.

Then it came to me.

There has been this picture floating around the internet of someone who did this:

It can't be bought anywhere, this person hand made it. (I assume. Looks handmade.)
So I decided to do the same. I dd a rough sketch in my notebook and it looks pretty good.
So tomorrow I am going to go out and get a mug from the dollar tree and do it.
It might not be in color and I will have to wash it forever, but it will be so worth it.
Maybe I'll get a box of chocolate shaped like darth vader too.

I am genuinely excited to give him this.
Handmade with love and whatnot.
I'm even a little emotional about it.
Maybe I'll even get super special water proof paint for it too.
Maybe I'll make one for myself with an angler fish on it. :D

Merp.

I guess I could update.
So, let's get to it, eh? 

Part 1: Not moving.
I'm not sure if I wrote about this, but I was going to be moving in with Brian "just after the holidays." 
So I should already be moved and settled in by now. 
But it didn't work out that way. 
I asked him about it a week or some before christmas and he said something along the lines of he wants to live alone for a bit longer.
It makes sense, it really does. He hasn't lived alone before, thought he would hate it, blah blah blah.
But it hurt. 
It really really hurt.
I got too excited, my hopes built up to much.
And the way he said it, so easily. It was like he didn't really want me to live with him ever.
Like I was just some rebound chick.
And really, I'd be fine with that. If that's what he wanted, just some rebound bitch, that would be fine, I would just want to know.
So I don't look like an idiot.
(Again.)
But the next day he said it was only going to be a month or two. 
I really hope that's the truth. I don't have any reason to not believe him (Except for the bit where I had to ask if he was serious about me moving in.) and I really don't want to get my hopes up like that again.
So I'm not going to get my hopes up.
Which brings me to...

Part 2: Lackluster (the sequel!)
I haven't been excited about anything lately.
Maybe it's fear of getting my hopes up again?
But I haven't been excited or happy or anything about a damn thing.
Which sucks.
I really really REALLY like being excited about things.
It's one of the perks of being a nerd. 
I like that I can get really excited about everything and be open about it.
But there is nothing to get excited about. 
Maybe I just need something awesome to follow through, and that will kind of get me excited about things again.
I'm not blaming getting my hopes up on Brian, don't twist my words.
I totally understand his whole thing about waiting, it makes all the sense in the world.
I just want to be excited about something.

Part 3: Shoes.
I ordered shoes today, from Debs.
They're cute.
I'll put up a picture once I actually get them.
WOO.
I ordered a few bras too. But whatever.

Part 4: Oswin Freaking Oswald.
You know what, this deserves an entire post.
So that's next.

Part 5:
I have nothing else.

Part 6: River Song
is my spirit animal.
That makes sense.