Tied Up and Dried Up and Dead to the World

And now, apparently, I'm NOTHING TO EVERYONE else. Which is the way it should be online, really. I should be more important to people in my life than to people online.

Wow. I'm shaking with anger as I write this. I am really fucking angry. I'm mad at Ryan, I'm mad at Andy, I'm mad at Robert, I'm mad at my father, my mother, GOD, Peter (STILL!), and so many others. I'm mad because I'm tired of being DISMISSED, SHOVED ASIDE, and being told I'm WORTHLESS. (ADMIT: Mom never did this. But I'm still pissed at her.) I'm mad because even when they're not /saying/ this they're SAYING it. In so many silences and fucking unspoken words.

Has ANYONE ever cared about what I might want? Anyone? I don't see any hands. Has ANYONE ever thought that I might have opinions, that it might hurt ME when my friends fuck around the way they've been doing, that it might hurt me really fucking bad when you don't 'have time' right now, that it hurts when I'm reminded again how unwanted fat girls are because you (AGAIN) go for the skinny one even when you say you LOVE personality so FUCKING much, hurt when you break off what NEVER WAS IN THE FIRST PLACE, hurt when I'm TOLD OUTRIGHT that I'll "NEVER" get a boyfriend, hurt when my only link to sanity dies and I'm NOT EVEN THERE (FUCK YOU GOD), hurt when I can NEVER EVER have a POINT in an argument, when YOU'RE always RIGHT because you're the PARENT---has anyone EVER thought that this bullshit might hurt me?

ANYONE?

NO! NO, they don't, and I just smile and take it up the ass like I'm SUPPOSED to, because I am a healer and compassionate and so much more fucking mature than everyone else. I'M TIRED OF BEING MATURE. This is MY time, this is about ME, and MY feelings, and FUCK EVERYONE ELSE.

I am so fucking tired of being a doormat. I'm so tired of passing off compliments, of taking the blame, of being the world's BITCH.

I am NO ONE's BITCH. I am MY bitch.

And yes, it HURTs when you pass me off. It HURTs. And my heart is a muscle so abused and so USED to it that I won't say anything. So it's up to YOU to stop breaking that fragile organ.

Don't be like the rest of the assholes.

Stop slapping me for being me.

a bit heartened, a bit saddened

Taken from an article about vigils held for Cindy Sheehan:

"She is being likened to a modern-day Rosa Parks," Brann said, referring to a leader in the civil rights movement of the 1960s.

The very fact that they have to explain who Rosa Parks is/was....just kind of makes my soul die inside. And really, Parks was just fed up. Not like she had an agenda.

Or maybe I'm overreacting.

Never Look Back

I say never look back, but I don't really mean it. I can't help but to look back. Especially when I know I'll never see you again.

You would have been thirteen today.

I feel like I've lost a daughter.

And I have. I have lost a daughter. I raised you for twelve years and ten months. I was with you for most of my life, and you were with me since you were old enough to leave your real mother and your brothers and sisters, furry bundles of joy to other peoples houses.

You were my bundle of joy. The only one I had in a bleak universe. You were what made it all worth it. When the going got really, really, tough, I kept myself alive not for mom, not for my grandparents, and not for my friends--but for us, because I knew that if I killed myself, I'd never see you again, and you'd be without your mistress.

When no one else could stand me, when even my ever-tolerant mother hated me, and when I was the biggest asshole on the face of the planet, you stood by me. Even when I dyed your fur purple. (And I stand by that--it looked really good.)

You never left me. All my pushing away, all my trying to prove that my worst depressions had me right, all my trying and trying to be unlovable so I could play the victim--and you never stopped loving me. You proved me wrong, and for that I am so fucking grateful.

You reminded me that there is light everywhere, that I just have to look in the right places. You reminded me that I am loved by some semblance of divinity, and that I won't be deserted by that becuase you'd always be there. Even if I knew you wouldn't /always/ be there, I knew that we'd be together, even when apart, and that in the end, you wouldn't die alone. You'd be with your pack. You'd be with your loved ones.

How fucking wrong I was.

And now, with you gone, I can't imagine being lovable again. I can't imagine taking another step forward, because all I want to do is to go back--back to when you were still with me.

Back to when I was still with you. Those words I didn't say often enough haunt me, because now I'll never be able to say them again.

I love you. I love you more than I love my friends, more than my family, more than any man that I've given my heart to (there have been a lot, and none of them worthy). I love you more than all the suns and moons and stars in the universe. I love you more than I love life itself. I love you more than I love me. You were the only one who made me happy. You were the only furry bundle of joy in my life that stayed.

You were my universe. And now you're gone.

coding hurts my brain and hands

So today I found a grain of sand embedded in my foot. Which was weird, to say the least. It was if my foot said "MMM...SAND." and then decided that it didn't like sand anymore, so I felt this hard thing in the soft part of my foot that felt like glass and I wrench it out and it's....a grain of sand. And I proclaimed, very loudly and with great dignity, "What. The. Fuck."