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Disclaimer: as of….10 minutes ago I deleted a majority of my postings. So, I apologize if now my blog sounds a little obsessive, but I have decided to take it in a different direction. I’ll tell you all more later…or maybe not.

I haven’t been on in what seems like ages and ages. I know. I apologize. Or maybe I don’t. Too much life has happened between then and now for me to honestly give a fuck about much of any god damn thing. I’ve come to realize that when I’m at my very worst is when I miss S the most. I have yet to find another human being that I can connect/relate with on that same amazing level that I had with him. The yin to my yang, the strawberry to my shortcake, if he was 1 and I was 1 and you subtracted 1 you’d get nothing, but together we were infinity.

I have someone else I can talk to. Sort of. He’s a ……friend. We’ll call him D. We went out of touch for a while for technological reasons, but we’re able to chat some here and there again. Problem is, I no longer push for that same level of trust and faith from another person. I don’t feel like anyone genuinely cares anymore. At least not about me. I’m currently living in a world where it seems as though my feelings no longer matter to anyone. I’m walking around on big, glass, shards of eggshells. It’s frustrating, irritating, painful, and frankly it just pisses me off most times. I have days where I just want to curl up in my bed and cry until I have to be taken to the hospital to be put on an IV for dehydration. I have days where I just want to be in a good, positive, uplifting mood. I have days where I just want to sit on the couch and not be bothered by a single soul. Of course none of these things happen and I have to suck it up and be a big girl and get on with the show. Because most days, it is just that, a show. A heart-wrenching, pain inducing, tear producing, piece of shit show called “life.” And once upon a time two drunk idiots got in the back of a Chevy conversion van and decided I needed a starring role in my own production of this off off off off off off off off offf offffffff broadway POS “LIFE: AS WRITTEN, DIRECTED, PRODUCED, FUNDED, AND STARRED IN BY KITTIE.” I’d like to say no animals got hurt in the making, but I kicked a bitch cat once when I was 13 and I’ve ran over a few frogs and rabbits in my time.

Sometimes I wonder why it couldn’t have just worked one of the 5 gajillion times I tried to off myself as a child. But then I remember that it’s because I was too fucking afraid of heights to actually jump a distance large enough to break my worthless fucking neck.

There I went, off topic again, ramble ramble. Poor little girl got raped by her cousin, abandoned by her father, emotionally abused by her mother,  and tried to kill herself. Well, boo fucking hoo. One out of every three right? Oh well. The worse part is that no one ever cared enough to get me help. At least not in time. And people don’t know what’s going on in my head. Except you guys. You poor poor suckers. Stop reading now, it’s not getting better. Ha ha. Was never good in the first place.

I miss S for his honesty. He was honest. Brutally when I needed it….when anyone needed it. Me, the socially acceptable version of him, and people still always liked him more. Isn’t that how it goes? They tolerated me for him. I’m barely tolerable anyways. He sometimes made me likeable. And I was his first “true” love. However dysfunctional it all was, we did love each other. In many different ways. The way friends love, and the way a brother and sister loves, the way lovers love, and the way you love someone who can just see straight into your soul and  know what you need, when you need it. Even if, no especially if, you don’t want it. He was brutal, in everything. His honesty, his compassion, his sympathy, his heart, his love. And he was brutally protective of me, of he and I, of all that encompassed us as an US or even just us as friends. It’s all so damn complicated. Life is shit right now. And I wish beyond all wishes that I could curl up in his lap, push my face into his neck, and just sob with his arms around me.

But, alas, I cannot. For I am a moron. The moron of morons. The bitch of bitches. The whore of whores. And, I dare say, the queen of horrible decisions.

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