Don’t tell Vanessa…

…but I wish I would have got her in this color.

…in bed

I love Vanessa, but…

I really should have got her in blue. Wondering if I’m cursed for getting black instead.

Scenes from a museum

Some pics from the Marin Museum of California Art.

…in bed

Why me?!?

OK, so I know that I came right at closing time to get a cake. And to be fair, it’s been years since I’ve had to write on a cake. And I do remember when the icing was too hard to use to write on a cake. But come on, I picked the most basic cake and most basic message. If the icing was too hard, just tell me that you can’t do it. Like I am livid raging and depression shaking at the same time ready to throw up. I’m going to have to go to the other Safeway or a real bakery tomorrow morning to get something else.

“In other to love someone else, I have to love myself”

This is my “inception “, the central underlying thought in my head. Part of me thinks it is something that Suzanne implanted, although deep down I know it isn’t true. I do wonder where/how/when this thought buried and attached itself to my mind. Was it from something I read; something I heard in a movie or a song, Did I learn it from someone else? Being unable to love myself, it’s the reason I wanted to kill myself. If I can’t love anyone else because I can’t love myself, what’s the point of living. Wanted might not be the right word, as one secret is I always want to kill myself. I’ve just put up enough mental barriers up not to act on it anyone. But it’s the reason that I’ve withdrawn from almost everyone and everything. If I can’t love myself, no point in others trying to love me. I am the only one that can learn to love myself and it’s something only I can do; well obviously I can’t. It’s something I have to do myself and alone. If I am alone and push away any and all other distractions, I’ll have no choice but to focus on the issue at hand. How’s that going for me. In bed in the dark typing this out on my phone. ••sigh••. Maybe it’s time to stop looking for a truth that I will never be able to find and just sink into the lie; lie to myself that I’m happy until I just blissfully believe I’m the lie. If you believe that the lie is the truth, eventually does it become the truth? If it works for Trump and MAGA…

3am blues

Another lonely night waking up at 3am in the morning. Actually I guess 2am. Going to bed early is not helping at all.

Once again I succumb to boredom and logged onto Instagram. I don’t know why since I can barely see anything on my phone at night. But enough to cut at my mind once again. Seeing her happy puts a smile on my face, even as my mind cries out in pain.

It’s supposed to be cuffing season, right? And yet here I am in my bed, longing to hold someone and keep them warm at night.

I guess I should be happy that I still can feel, even if it’s negative feelings. I don’t want the soullessness on being on Prozac (or was it ability) but would it be any worse than the place I am at now?

I should try to go back to sleep and to my dreams and memories. Frayed at the edges, but still enough to calm and soothe the soul.

…in bed


Reppin the yay