I hate 3 am. A lot of people hate 2am or 3am. It's when we humans would be up for a while between first and second sleep before the industrial revolution done fucked biology. 3 am sucks because we think we know we should be sleeping. But we don't feel like doing anything productive either. Atleast, I never do.
I have plenty to do. Literally, I have the brand spanking new Baby Sitters Club book that I could read.
Or I could watch The Vampire Lestat series I finangled a way to watch, for free. Thank you, free trial in Prime. Do people actually pay another fee to watch *with* the ads included? I'm fully intending to cancel it once I watch the finale on Sunday.
Or I could pet my cat. She's being all snuggly because I carried her highness up 14 stairs to bed, or because cats are highly intuitive, and she doesn't want her mommy to self harm.
Not that she has the language for that. But she'll sure as shit let me know by leaving mommy's bed because she does not approve of mommy's maladaptive coping mechanisms.
Which is why I'm typing this (badly, thanks to the failure that is autocorrect). Or because my fingers are too fat, or human were never meant to design and use flat touchscreen technology. I knew I was going to miss the buttons when I downgraded from a sidekick in 20-I don't remember the year.
I was too busy doing drugs, so I didn't kill myself. Still haven't figured out what to do now that I'm not trying to reach Elysian. I don't want to go back to retail. Ever. I don't want to live at home forever.
I want to write a graphic novel, and I suppose I am in slow motion. But I know how quickly I read a graphic novel; that's not going to sustain my entire future financially. I know my therapist and my mother want me to do something with my life besides live on the dole – only we're not British, but their colloquialisms are cooler sounding than ours.
I would love to not have acid reflux from hell: thank you 18 years of puking, which is why I deserve the bulimia diagnosis, though my mother can be quoted verbatim “95% of bulimics are underweight”. Didn't I know that?
I jest, I know the Diagnostic and Sratistical Manual’s criteria, and I also know the ICD has the benefit of being utilized by more than one country. We think we're so special and unique here in the USA.
In fact, I was told as a child I could be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up. Also, I did a pretty good job in the genealogy pool; I'm not a minority or an immigrant, yet I'm still here kinda bored the fuck out of my skull even though I have “:)” or more than 100 tabs open in my mobile browser, and would really like to cut.
At least then I could feel something. Pain is a ‘thing’. But it's also warm and dripping, the blood. The various vampirism jokes circling my mind right now are probably not on the topic you want me to continue with.
It's auto-vampirism, I guess. The stinging sensation would be satisfying too. Maybe not to you, but I've been conditioning myself for decades to find comfort in it. I'm not 15 and immediately pulling sweatbands over my fresh cuts because the compression helps alleviate the pain, but I am still using the same methods.
But hey, we like the traditions here in the USA. But in all seriousness, the traditions really suck. I hate what this country has become. Watching the news makes me question whether I'd rather choose nembutal or phenobarbital, even though the government pays me because I'm ‘paper crazy’, and I wonder if there is another human who will ever love me romantically?
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
pixelskylines
romaincrisis
areudirty
snowghoul
prguitarman