15,034 Days Alive
138 Miles to Drive from Work to the Parliament of Chaos
9 Tim Burton Comfort Films Watched in the Last Month
4 Specific Movies to Watch Planned (9 to 5, Clue, Steel Magnolias, and Muppet Treasure Island)
2 Days Until I Travel to the Parliament of Chaos Again
1 Crying Fit at 5am…Again
Life sure is life-ing again. It’s been a month since my last entry. I was trying to get back into the daily habit of blogging but seem to have, at least temporarily, failed.
In my defense: I am tired down to my soul. Sad to my bones. Exhausted through the whole damn bloodline. The whole damn self/me/whatever is powered by the inability to admit defeat or find restful moments; a ridiculous amount of sheer dumb luck and caring friends; an unhealthy amount of sugar free, caffeinated beverages; the desire to outlive both of my parents in the number of years they survived themselves; and a whole lot of spite.
For those playing the numbers game:
- 60 Years, 7 Months, & 14 Days of My Mother’s Existence or 22,141 Days
- 58 Years, 1 Month, & Fifteen Days of Daddy’s Existence or 21,229 Days
It’s like a potion of fuckery, my brain. Sadness and anger so self-pointed I feel like I’m drowning in feelings. I hate myself. I hate the parallels I see in my choices. I hate that I’ve had to beg for help lately, even if I appreciate those willing to give it. I fucking hate that $50 would barely make a dent in what I need right now, though it would be enough to fill my gas tank at least. It would be another $25 to get a pack of the only meal shake I don’t seem to be allergic to, which is stupid. At least that’s a dozen or so, if memory serves correctly. It’s all on an Amazon Wishlist to help me get more calories and more snacks into my diet per my nutritionist. And of course there are Slim Jim’s on that list. Because I love them.
Anyway, my brain is constantly deprived of dopamine and serotonin for some stupid reason and jabbing it angrily with a toothpick would do fuck all. So I take my meds, sleep if I can, and deal with a ridiculous baseline for pain.
I’m so tired. I want to give up. I really do. But I don’t know how.
There are positive things going for me. I graduated with a 4.0, honor’s society, and Dean’s List. I have my tickets to Orlando and back for graduation. I have four new tires on my vehicle because they were worn to the metal on the rear. It wasn’t pretty, and I hydroplaned pretty badly last week in the rain.
I’ve been watching my comfort movies a lot. I am certain an eagle-eyed cinephile might catch the common thread in this particular list:
- Alice in Wonderland, 2010
- Alice Through the Looking Glass, 2016
- Big Fish, 2003
- Corpse Bride, 2005
- Edward Scissorhands, 1990
- James and the Giant Peach, 1996
- Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993
- Sleepy Hollow, 1999
- Sweeney Todd, 2007
Yeah, Tim Burton films are my comfort items. Him, Guillermo del Toro, and Roland Emmerich.
Like… I know it will get better. If only in little ways. I know that my suffering is small compared to some others’ current battles. I am just… not okay. I don’t know what to do about it other than keep going. I can’t rest, I can’t afford to.
Dear Universe: I need help. I’m not asking for something ridiculous like the $10,522.50 it would take to pay off my car. But maybe just enough to get me some gas in my tank and a few groceries?
I also have a minor toothache that has kept me up the last two nights, so that’s been hell, too. If you could, Dear Universe, I would like that to stop. And maybe, just maybe, let me stop crying every fucking day from missing Mr. Spock? I’m so tired of waking up to a tear-dampened pillow. I just want things to stop being so hard.
Take your meds, folks.
Postmark Wonderland 