4:36 p.m. - 2019-12-15
and i give it all away
Audiobook production decisions are baffling.
If a chapter is in the pov of a woman, let the woman voice it ? Why would you switch to the male vo for the chapters in the woman's pov and the womans vo for the mans pov?
These are the things im focused on instead of christmas and youngest's birthday. And everything else. December is a mess.
Im so fucking tired, I hope it's from the flu shot and the healing meditations and nothing else. if I get a .. cant remember the word.. Oh, flare, if I get a flare this week christmas will be a wreck.
I can sleep for days. days and days and it never gets any better.
Bones still breaking down and building up constantly, red blood cell levels dropping and soaring alternately.
Still don't like the idea of being a guinea pig, a lab rat, poked and prodded and pierced, for years while the doctors shrug and give me more scripts of different drugs that just make me stupid and bleary eyed and nauseated and dizzy and generally unable to look after my kids.
The only self left that really matters for anything. (j/k, but it makes me laugh when C goes 'reeeeeeee' the way he does)
Maybe I'm just a coward and I don't want to know what's wrong.
It pisses me off that we got kind of close to actually talking last night, and then I wrecked it. That doesn't matter either. I mean, I'm just filling in until you get another girl right?
I've never been enough to hold attentions. Strangers will sit beside me and pour their hearts out to me, tell me everything about themselves that they hate, everything about their lives that makes them sob, weird and wonderful things that caught their attention today, but I can't seem to hold on to anyone I care about.
I used to think I held on too tightly, like trying to grip water or sand, so then I held loosely, too loosely? Who knows. It doesn't matter. People wander away no matter what I do. I'm not entertaining enough, witty enough, pretty enough, lithe enough, active enough, just.. never enough.
Everyone leaves. Death is normal. Physical cycle is only a tiny part of the whole. Some day this aching loneliness inside me won't be there anymore, because I won't be there anymore. And you can't have a hole with nothing around it.
It ain't really a Sunday until I've written myself into existential dread and spiraling loneliness.
I'm going to make some more coffee, and play videogames until this feeling is stuffed down again. And the tears stop.
Weak weak weak weak weak
