Woops

Maybe I should get back into the swing of this.
Maybe it would help.
I seriously doubt it.
It has been a solid year. Again. Woops.

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.