Random thoughts that will make you uncomfortable about knowing me.

Not to participate in traditions, because traditions are for dickheads, but I am thankful I don't have babies or kids.  Shit, just looking at them gives me headaches.  Their constant want and need of things.  The way my already shitty life couldn't be complete without them.  Oh blow me.  But yet I torture myself with thinking about it constantly, even though I could care less, and would be much happier in a world without kids. 

Everything since I have moved up here has been shit.  Which is strange really.  I cared a great deal about Miggy while we were dating, but in hindsight, I don't believe that he ever really cared about me.  It's actually quite strange to even think about it because he never gets excited over anything.  The only positive thing that seemed to come of that, was me adopting his family.  Which is again, pretty fucked up and weird.  It would weird me out if one of my ex boyfriends came over to my families houses and hung out with them and talked with them without me.  But then again, all my ex boyfriends have been dickheads, so what do I know?

I used to be adventurous, and whatever it was that changed in 2008 and 2009: friendships falling apart, quitting one job for school that fell through, being unemployed, randomly moving here without really thinking about it and just doing it, and Lindsay dying; all those things put together with pointing out the spot on dad's face for the  first time, the look on his face when he told us that it wasn't going away and that there were only months left no matter what we did, the secrets they kept, I don't know...  but the adventurer in me seems to have died.  There's no room for adventure of fun anymore.  I don't think that there ever will be again.  The anxiety in the past four years has only grown to a point, where it is uncomfortable to grocery shop sometimes.  I can't be around strangers, I can't make friends, I can't keep friends.  I have given up what few small dreams I still held onto, because they seem pointless now. 

I'm so sick of people telling me that my dad wouldn't want me to be sad like this.  Guess what people?  My dad didn't want to die period.  I'm sorry but both ideas just cannot coexist together.  I just can't figure out how to cope and move on.  Everything in my life has fallen apart.  I have one good hour a day Monday through Friday when I borrow a dog.  How sad is that?  The rest of my time is spent alone by myself.  At least that way I don't spend what little money is left, and I can keep being unemployed.  Yay for no direction.  Yay for no social life.  Yay for people showing some god damn fucking empathy for something that they can't understand or even imagine. 

Ultimately, it doesn't even matter.  I'm alone all the time.  I come home and stay alone some more.  I don't talk to anyone.  I don't even want to talk to anyone anyways.  No one calls.  I don't call anymore.  No parents, no brother.  No family.  No friends.  Barely any acquaintances. 

The whole bottle of Tylenol might kill my liver, but it just isn't enough to put me out.  I admit, I like the idea of what the people at work would say and think.  I'm pretty sure there would be some guilty hands in there.  I like the idea of what the people who didn't believe me when I said I would do it would think.  "Oh, I should have spoken up."  Too late now.  There are some people I would be sad for.  But I try not to think about them.  They obviously aren't thinking about me. 

I'm also thinking about shaving my head after his one year anniversary.  I want to donate or sell it all.  I figure that if things don't slightly improve after a year, especially a year where they have only become worse as time has gone on, then it will be time to reconsider the Tylenol act, or whatever the fuck it is that we are calling it.  It's only like two weeks away too. 

Which is strange as well.  I remember a lot of last year.  I remember super vivid moments and other events I can't recall at all.  Maybe that's good? 

The less I talk to people, the more I wonder how long it would take them to find me.  Beth would probably notice first.  I hate to put that burden on her.