Getting smaller.

These are the days in which it is hard to remain a nonsmoker. Tara had two shots, developed a fever, did nothing but scream all day, and I had a mental breakdown at the local UDF. Wasps kept coming in the car and I was trapped. I was torn between running for my life and protecting my baby. I FUCKING HATE FLYING INSECTS! Screw PETA. Species which I believe should go extinct: Bees, Wasps, Hornets, Yellowjackets, Any sort of flying insect with a stinger, Geese make me want to bomb Canada, The Surinam toad! YOU EXIST TO HAUNT ME, TOAD!



Life is squeezing the lifeforce out of me and is making want to punch strangers in the face. I want to ruin someones' day before they ruin mine. So easily stability is lost! The undying truth is that I'm a lot of things and none of them are good. I'm lonely. My creative outlet is plugged. I'm weak and out of touch with myself. I want to peel off my skin to regain some sense of normality. Most of what I'm saying feels like bipolar vomit.

Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong, and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't come back. You're left so alone that you can't explain.