#ramblingsofabird

Not actually struggling to print things

But the fucking paper of all things.

It needed more paper.

I had a 15 page lab to print out.

I could not, for the life of me, find the blank paper.

I checked everywhere that was reasonable

After all, there’s only so many places that’s reasonable to store printer paper in an office.

Then I checked the unreasonable places.

And I just felt the frustration grow.

I was so angry.

I can’t find the fucking paper. Out of everything. And I can’t ask for help because I’ll just get another tsk tsk and this is why I can’t ever be on my own

And then

I miss home.

This place isn’t home.

I can’t find anything here.

There?

I knew where everything was.

I knew where the paper was stored.

I knew where the floor creaked

And which doors you had to be extra careful closing at night

I was able to survive under the radar

This place isn’t home.

Moved my shoulder and it cracked.

Not your typical joint cracking - like a single, loud crack.

And hoo boy does it look off. So pretty sure it’s fully dislocated.

I still hurt. I look like I absolutely fought a demon in my sleep.

I had an incredibly odd, disturbing, and realistic dream of my turtle getting dropped and his shell getting broken. Like, pieces came off broken. It is a large fear of mine, especially since they are such good climbers and escape artists - it’s not uncommon for turtles to end up with cracked and broken shells because they managed to climb up and out of their tank only to fall to the floor.

Why, when I had to be out or had to drive, would be waiting for when I could finally get home and get high.

It’s because when I’m “a little to the right”, as I call it, I’m finally not in pain.

I enjoy it for other reasons as well, but that truly is the main one.

Here I am. Crying on the couch at midnight. I’ve been in pain for 2 days straight. I’m out of what I’ve been using and don’t have the cash nor time to get more. I cannot bend at the waist - this includes sitting down. Pure agony.

I’ve taken a left over tramadol. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Anyway I got drunk last night and that at least took the edge off.

I know there’s a million warnings not to drink with tramadol but. Fuck. Whatever. Anything to take the edge off the pain at this point.

Ig if yall don’t hear from me again im either in a coma or dead (and if im in a coma i better be dead within a day bc ive made it very clear that i never want to be kept like that after i was temp paralyzed and forced to be aware while I couldn’t move)

I voluntarily go. It’s completely free. I can send an email right now to the center, never even talking 1 on 1 with the therapist, and cancel my appointment and never return.

Yet, at the end of every session, I tell the same time next Tuesday works.

And I show up.

I don’t hate going because I dislike therapy as a thing.

I hate going because then, hours or days later, I often have realizations that kinda fuck me up for a bit.

I am still that child with the coloring book, asking for help to open their juice while their sibling is mid meltdown.

I am still that child who learned to play quietly, alone, through the chaos.

I am still that child who was left to their own devices as soon as they became competent as the other child demanded more attention.

I scare them all away

The one person to want me at the same time wishes she didn’t.

Has said as much.

…..

….

…

It’s approximately 20 minutes later. Typing the above led to me starting to cry and kinda rage at myself? bc like “oh wow you really are just worthless and shit and you’re an awful person” and all that crap.

but then I had to go look for the cat. so I had to be ok.

so I got up, dried my eyes off, blew my nose, and took a couple hits

now that me that was upset feels like a million years ago and omg that was so silly lol and I’m eating chicken nuggets bc I have the palette of a child while watching a show that really should be tagged with monsterfucker even though it’s basically a knockoff Stargate

Anyway.

I do wonder what is wrong with me.

What the common denominator is.