diary

You cannot stop me

You cannot stop me

My body moves and frees me

Make up a new name

Incorporate it into a dance

Slap my skin

Slap it red, make a noise

Send it across the room and cause a red face

Red face, red face, hands covered in blood, filled up with anger because you haven’t been covered in my blood

You like the innocence

You like the humaness 

It’s in my nature to move

It’s in my nature to dance

You cannot stop me

I am in a trance

It is just boomba

roomba

zoomba

Move my body uncontrollably 

I just need to move my feet

You cannot stop me

You cannot stop me

You cannot stop me

You cannot stop me

You cannot stop me

You cannot stop me

You cannot stop me

however, i am not satisfied with the conclusion, i started seeing an older man but he seems to be not as truthful

he hides himself behind something sad

I mixed vodka into my sprite, and fell asleep in my makeup. Not a good look, I was too tired to take it off and brush my teeth. So, I closed my laptop, and went back to sleep.

It was foggy when I woke up this morning. It made me miss my home. I love the fog, it’s where I can get lost and hide away. So, the regret lingered away into my happiness because of that beautiful morning view.

I acted crazy again. My brain thinks it wants to be in love. I wrote a shitty poem and posted it on my main but I might delete. I can do better. But should I always give something great or take the punches as they come? I don’t know.

Why do I want to be in love with someone I don’t want? I don’t want him as a boyfriend and I barely like him as a friend. It’s weird because I don’t feel it’s serious but my brain thinks it is. Here’s to anxiety, she is terrible friend. Honestly, a foe. A nasty bitch.

Everyone is a nasty bitch. I wish I wasn’t a paragraph demon. I turned you unconsciously into a diary. Should I end it here? I never commit anyways. I want to drown myself in a vat of oil because I realized I am not a player. I am made of Carrie Bradshaw proportions with hints of a girl is dying to rock out these evil feelings.

I barely know two chords. My fingers are dopey and my brain has this perfectionist mindset that in turns makes me imperfect. That’s why I dumped onto you and the other guy too. Ugh.

End this misery.

Boo. Boo. Boo. Boo.

I want to cry. Not in sadness but in pure anger for being who I am. A simple girl with a simple mind, lying about being simple.

Updates:

Wrote a poem

Acted like a big baby

Trimmed

Painted my nails

Ate breakfast

Had a sparkling water

Let’s call this day one. I always liked the number one. As a fledgling, I favored the number four because it was even but I always wanted to be first. Be the line leader, the first to perform, the first to go, the first to do, and it would kill me when I was second or third. But, I was ok being fourth. Being second or third, hurt to believe that people would put me behind others.

I realized that some of this anger stems from a disingenuous place of insignificance. I have always wanted more for myself. Much more than what they wanted. He wanted. I beat myself up about it all the time. I tell myself no, I can’t, it’s impossible. I combated with those thoughts and it has lead me to better places but there is still so much more I have to conquer.

I cope horribly with alcohol. It used to be weed but I would hallucinate horribly. Cried all the time. I only felt authentic when I smoked but it was too visceral and honestly disturbing. I used to freak myself out. I wouldn’t start my day. I would just go around sulking as I tried to imagine myself to be anywhere but here. I hated being here in the present moment. It projected a terrible truth. Maybe I wasn’t good enough.

I since then quit. It’s been about 6 months. I tried to be normal but the pain of normalcy is getting worse. I drink to soothe, to put me to sleep, to make me not have to worry about anything, make me light, make me fun. Make me anything else but me for once. Drinking has made me worse. I understand consent now. It was never given to me, I could never say no. So, it used to not make sense when people said no to me because I was always saying yes.

I deal with that guilt daily but I released myself of the shame. I have torn it apart to reveal me underneath the charred peel of distressed flesh. It was me. I hate you but I love you. Even when you fuck up because it reminds me of my heart that wants to feel and a brain that wants to understand.

If I were perfect the way I wanted to be then I don’t think I would survive.

But, I believe in new beginnings. Every day is a chance to start over. I don’t have to wait for New Year’s Day, my birthday, or some sort of celebration because my life happens everyday. Life will always be here. To mark it away for a special moment makes days like today seem so unspectacular. It’s amazing to me.

So today for here, this moment is day one.

Updates from last night:

I drank wine, whiskey, and vodka.

I flossed my teeth.

I washed my face.

I did my laundry, folded and put everything away.

I had nice conversations.