I wear a cross around my neck. It's glass, black background with a red rose inside of it. Am I cristian? No. The rose is for FireOpal, to remind me of him. The cross is because if I believe in anything, it's him, it's because of him. I wear it every day. For the past several months. I wear it still. It rests close to my heart.
Laters

Why why WHY do I do this to myself? Fucking A. Why can't I just leave well enough alone?
Laters

I'd write in here all day, every day. I have a lot of excess thoughts floating through my (likely diseased) brain. Anyway, I didn't sleep last night. Maybe my brain is slowing down. I only wish it-and my heart-would stop.
Laters

I have a secret. An actual secret, given the nature of me. Only one person has ever found out about it. And even that was on accident. Stormy doesn't even know and I tell Stormy EVERYTHING. Of course now that I say this, I'll have hordes of people asking me what the hell is up with that. *sigh* I really can't keep a secret.
Laters

All right. There have been problems with my blog and some of the archives. They're fixed now. I had to mess with the times a little bit, so it might be five hours off for the end of May/beginning of June, but at least they're all accessible now. I have to have these things pointed out to me. *I* never go back and read any of it. Maybe I should. Or maybe I just really shouldn't.
Anyway.
I like the way I write. I feel like I have to defend myself on that front, but I honestly believe that I am a good writer. An excellent one. (But as Stormy pointed out, I'm not a good whiner.) Anyway, that's the way it is. So there.
Laters

"I'd rather be despised for what I am than loved for what I'm not."
Well that's just not true for me. I'd do anything, be anyone just to be loved. The problem is I don't know how to be anything other than who I am. Stormy does. She can be whatever she feels like being, whenever she feels like changing. But she actually believes that bullshit up there. "Be who you are." I don't have a choice.
Laters

Some days I fucking hate my sister. Why does she tell me these things? Why would she DO those things to me? She can just tell me I'm a whiny bitch, she doesn't have to be duplicitous about it. Fine, I'm whiny. Whatever. Dammit, I didn't need to know that. Now I feel stupid.
Laters

Even through all the break ups and endings and anger and fightings, there was always us underneath. Always hope, always love. No longer.
"You give your heart that means nothing to you to another person. And it beats in their chest, but the only thing keeping it beating is that other person's heart. And all that does is drain them. You take all they have and all you give is this thing that you see as worthless."
Do I? Yeah, I guess. Stormy's word is law, after all. My heart is worthless to me. Worthless alone. I've always been codependent. I don't even know anymore. There's too much wrong with me. Way too much. Wish in one hand...*sigh*
*Bounce*
Laters

It's more than wishing I could die. It's wishing I'd never had to live.
"Waking in an empty room..."
Drama, he says. Drama. He met me here. Here, in these words. And laced through every one of these words is me-me and my drama. The me he pretended to love. The drama he claimed he could handle. I fucking hate liars. I fucking hate him. Or maybe I just wish I could.
How DOES one induce a coma?
Anyone out there willing to help?
Laters

I always knew I'd loved him more. He knew it, too. And he can't handle it. I hate being god. I get too hurt falling in love with the mortals. Did I need for him to say that I wasn't the one for him? Did I need for him to deny his words, to admit-or at least intimate-his 'lies'? All I needed was hope. Such a small thing. Hope and attention, maybe. Now both-no, now EVERYTHING has been ripped away from me. Again.
Maybe I can convince someone to kill me. Then at least I wouldn't be breaking my promise. I'd like to keep it, but I'd really rather be dead.
Fuck it all. I wish there were stronger words. I wish I knew them all. "The love I bear thee can afford no better term than this:" I'm not capable of stopping once I start. All I'll ever be able to achieve-and even this is a farfetched fantasy-is a state of perpetually ignoring it.
Fucking liar. Fucking world. Fucking life.
"The curse of the superior intellect."
The even more formidable curse of being me.
Laters

He killed me. How could I expect he wouldn't?
I was wrong. I'm more capable of being suicidal than I thought.
But of course, that's why he left. Too much drama.
Why do they always leave? Is there nothing I can do to keep him? Not even this goddamned tattoo...no, there's nothing. Why do I fucking delude myself?
Laters

"Live your own life. And stay away from MINE."
Fine. Go live your own life. Rot in hell you fucking liar.
Is anyone surprised?
Then why am I so hurt?
Laters

I have fucking stranger's willing to call me and talk to me, but not a man who claims to love me. I am so done with this shit. Too hurt by it.
Laters

Thinking too much this noon. About myself. About men, about sex. About a lot of things. Thinking that I'm damaged goods. Been raped, beaten. Have scars, am...flawed. Hurt too much, jaded, bitter. Have a kid. My heart is still wrapped up in...a dream. I don't see myself as "marketable" as a (friend?) put it. I barely see myself as fuckable. Goddammit.
Anything when there is nothing. Do *I* even make sense to me?
Laters

Men have fallen in love with me before. Lots of men. All of them, in fact. All of them that I've allowed to be around me for any period of time. And sometimes no time at all. But either they're not worthy. Or they don't stay. I'm not one that gets kept.
Laters

I never claimed to be anything less than high maintenence. But at least I don't make anyone guess what I want, need, or expect.
Laters

The question's not WHY is he so goddamned worth it. It's IS he.
He's turning the answer into 'no'.
Laters

"Fuck you. I'm sick of trying for someone who only wants to hurt me."
Trying my ass. Why are we like this? Why can't we stop it with the hurting and the apart? And why am I here asking this to a goddamned computer when he's got the means to be with me? So we now know it's going nowhere. Both of us. Okay, then.
Fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking A!
I wonder sometimes why this is so...the way it is. Stormy met her husband online. No fair.
Whatever.
I'm confused and tired.
Laters

*sigh*
So we all know what a mess I am.
So we all know what my weaknesses are.
And we all know that I'm incapable of saying "NO".
So I'll probably get laid Sunday night.
I fucking hate him for doing this to me, for allowing me to do this to myself. Doesn't he see how much I want to be with HIM? Doesn't he care?
Fuck it, I don't have the energy.
Laters

Well, blogger seems to be updated. Interesting. We'll see how I like it.
Anyway, I'm at the library. Being hit on. And he's passing notes like we're in fucking grade school. And he seems pretty illiterate. And he's (and don't think me prejudiced or anything) black. Maybe I am prejudiced. Maybe I'm just egocentric. Wanting to know what I'm doing tonight? Yeah, we know what HE wants.
Ah, but I kinda want that too.
Only DEFINITELY not with him.
Laters

Your romantic pattern is Romantic Rescue!
Love is all-powerful in the Romantic Rescue pattern. It is the catalyst for change within yourself as well as the means through which you discover if your partner is who you want and need them to be.
But, here's the recurring pattern you may see in your relationships: A desire to save your partner from his own self-destruction, or the desire to be saved by someone for the same reason.
Some people adopt the hero role in this pattern-nursing an ailing partner back to health, saving them from a string of previously destructive relationships, maybe even saving them from a physical danger. Others cast themselves as those in need of rescue -relying on their partners to swoop in and save them from whatever ill-fate's been visited upon them, either real or imagined.
Amusingly enough, I didn't take this test. But it pretty well describes me, don't you think? I'm both the hero and the damsel in distress. I need to be saved in some ways, but I can save him in others. Isn't that okay? Isn't that the way it's supposed to be? Shouldn't we save each other, help each other? Why not? What's wrong with depending on another person? Especially one who loves you, one whom you love back. Unfortunately...well, not everyone sees it that way.
Laters

Oh, and I got a phone at my new apartment and it pissed Stormy off. Goddammit. All I seem to do is piss her off. Why can't she just realize that I have a life outside of her? I let her have one outside of me, encourage her to do so, even. When will she realize that a) I'm not her and don't want to be, and b) she is not my mother, guardian, or protector (and even if she were, I'd have no faith in that seeing the example of my real mother)? I have to do exactly what she wants me to do when she wants me to do it. I've always done it. Up to now. And, hell. She wants me to be independent. So she says. But she wants me to do it HER way. Just like her. God fucking dammit. Why do I even CARE? Everything is always all my fault. Fuck it. I just want to sleep. For a couple months. How does one induce a coma?
Laters

I wish I were beautiful.
Laters

Oh my fucking god. Amethyst is driving me batshit. I'm SICK of it. When do I get to do what *I* fucking want to do? Yeah, yeah, it's all my fault I got pregnant right after high school. Fuck it. Fuck it right in the ear. So SO many things would have made my current life different. And I don't even know if I wish for them or not. "She wants someone to save her from a life that isn't that horrible." Yes, yes I do. Not just someone. Him. But since he won't...ah, well. I'll just fucking do what I fucking do and if he gets here too late then he can go to hell. Wrong choices. All wrong. There is no US without us. I wonder if he knows that?
I still want to explore the domination/submission thing. I want to explore all sorts of things sexually. He's not here. Fine. I'll do what I want to do without him. Like I said-he'll probably be too late.
Laters

None of this makes any goddamned sense. But I'm supposed to wait and hope. For WHAT, exactly?
Nothing. That's where this will end. In nothing. Fine. Let's pursue this fracass to its final stupidity.
Laters

NOW he wants to fight for me? NOW? After all this time, months of just NOT, now he thinks that's what I need. He can go to hell. The second I accept it, the second I don't need it anymore, he turns around with his "No, I'm not leaving" and "You can't push me away." Hell yes I can. And I'd rather push him away than face a lifetime of hoping without him. I don't even hope for my birthday anymore; I know he won't be here. "A promise is a promise." And those promises are lies. Every one of them. "And you...you will be my everything." Yeah. Everything he's not willing to find, everything he's not willing to work for, everything he's willing to give up for anything else. Easy for ME?
I'm sitting here crying, not caring who sees. In the middle of a public fucking library. Knowing what I want. Knowing what I need. Not getting it. Never getting it. Not even capable of asking for it, because although I KNOW the answer, I still have that shred of doubt. Because I haven't asked.
Goddammit. Amethyst is so going to need therapy. I'd better start saving for it now.
Laters

Easily and quickly...fuck him, too.
Like I'm over here with a huge goddamned grin on my face? Oh, please! Life sucks-for me it always will. Maybe I do prefer being miserable. I sure am a lot.
Laters

Things are so confusing for me right now. I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't even care.
I love him, that I know for sure. He loves me? That I only hope for. I wish...oh, I wish a lot of things. None of which will ever come true.
Laters

I fucking hate myself.
Laters

From last midnight:
I want to be fucked. I want to be fucked from darkness to light. I want to be taken from behind, unable to see the man fucking me. I want to be tied up, restrained. I want to be beaten. I want to be put on display, blindfolded, naked, to be fondled and touched, molested and fucked by countless men I'll never know. I want to be bitten and cut. I want to be forced to do things I consider depraved, to have those depraved things done to me. I want to be sodomized. I want to be twisted and turned and contorted into positions my body should not be able to attain. I want to fuck a stranger-several-and throw them away when I'm done with them, last week's garbage. I want a stranger to enter my house, take me on my bed while I sleep. I want to hurt when it's over, to bleed. I want to be pleasured orally by a woman; I want to taste a woman on my own tongue. I want my clothes to be ripped off me, ruined beyond all hope of repair. I want it all. I want it so badly I almost feel the cock in me. I want it so badly I'm desperate for it.
What is fucking WRONG with me? I become aroused by the most deplorable of images, the most gruesome of scenes. Scenes of fathers raping daughters, men attacking boys, random violence and sexual depravity. Perhaps somewhere deep in my psyche is buried the desire for my father to have done that to me, though he never did. The idea repels me-and attracts me at the same time. I never saw his motives lying in that direction towards me, though Stormy did towards herself-and she was sickened by it. She and my father were never close. He and I were. I always knew he loved me best. Better than he loved my mother, even. I'm not sure if I remember thinking this when I was a child-perhaps I only wish I did-but there is a half formed idea of him fantasizing of me when taking my mother. He's always been mine, twisted around my little finger, and I cannot recall a time when I was not a sexual creature., wanting it from so young an age.
God. There is something seriously wrong with me.
Oh, well. I'm going to go and scrogg random useless guys and seriously fuck up my life. Well. Fuck it up worse.
Laters

I hate it when people tell me I'm beautiful. Not because I'm not; I am. But because I'm not society beautiful, not superficially gorgeous. They have to make themselves believe I am beautiful, it's not something that they really see. "You're beautiful because I love you." That I have no trouble believing.
On a side note, I'm now masturbating at least three or more times a day.
Laters

Yes, I know I'm an alcoholic. Fuck it, I don't want help.
Laters

"he's worth it. he's worth all those sleepless nights and tear-soaked pillows. if you think you'll get this chance again, you're deluding yourself. don't let him go." ~one that loves him, to me
"Why are you so goddamned worth it?" ~one that loves me, to him
Laters

And another thing. Oh, fuck it.
I am now going to go apply for a million bullshit jobs at crappy places that I wouldn't want to go to much less work at. Why? Because I HAVE to.
Would anyone be surprised if I said I hate my life?
Laters

Although, on the other hand, I love the way I write. I'm GOOD at it, and I enjoy it. That's SOMEthing at least. Enough to live for? Shouldn't Amethyst be that?
Laters

I hate it when the good guy wins. I mean, come on. Good triumphing over evil ALL THE FUCKING TIME?!?!?!?!? No, I don't think so. I much prefer it when the antagonist is the victor. Hell, I want to BE the bad guy. I like the idea of all that power. Or wait. No, I think I'd like to be the bad guy's girl. To have power OVER someone who has that kind of power would be awesome. Because, I mean really. I WOULD have the power over any man stupid enough to fall for me. Or at least such has been the case in the past.
*sigh* I hate not having my own phone. Or internet access. Or car. Or money. Or anything. Why can't the world owe me a living?
And I am a horrible mother. Fuck anyone who says otherwise. I'm cold and distant, selfish, greedy. To my kid. I take the better and leave her with the lesser. I tell myself it's because SHE won't notice and she doesn't mind or care, but it's really that I want the good stuff for myself. I leave her alone for hours at a time, telling her to just get away from me and go watch a movie. So that I can read or eat or just ignore her. I'm mean to her, cruel even. I slap her to get her to stop doing something, push her away from me when she's not really done anything wrong. I don't feed her properly. I get angry when she does something she didn't know she wasn't supposed to do. I throw her on her bed for the most minor of offenses, making her take a nap even when she's not tired. I sleep while she occupies herself, then punish her for doing what of COURSE a four year old would do without supervision. Whenever anyone else is around I completely disregard her, letting whoever it is make decisions and take responsibility-again telling myself lies, that she prefers the company of others to me. Which is sometimes true, but even when she wants ME I ignore her. I was never cut out for this. I never wanted it. I'm not right for it, and she's the one who's suffering because of it. And no one sees that, no one understands that all I'm doing is fucking up. Everyone tells me "oh, I know you're a great mommy." Fuck them all. They're wrong. And still nothing is going to be done, the situation will not change and I will end up having a grown child-unless I kill her, accidentally or on purpose which I'm not entirely sure I wouldn't do, sometimes I'm more than tempted-who's completely fucked up beyond all hope of recovery and who hates me. Rightfully so. And yet...am I looking for excuses? Am I just tired and frustrated? Looking for a way out? An excuse to fuck MYSELF over if she's not around? I don't even know. What I DO know is that I'm in this alone. And it's looking like I always will be.
Why am I so fucking bipolar? Why am I completely content one second, and totally lost the next? Why do I go from hope to despair so easily? And why haven't I DONE something about it, why CAN'T I? Even these happy pills aren't helping anymore. Anymore? Did they ever? Or was it psychological on my part? Was I placing all my hope in it? What am I placing my hope in NOW?
I know. Why do I still hope? "A promise is a promise." Yes it is. And so is a broken one. And that's all I hold in my hands. Broken promises and shattered dreams.
I really do wish I were suicidal. Instead I'm going to wake up forty, fifty, sixty and see the nothingness of my life. And wish again what I wish now-that it could have ended at this point. Or that it could have never began. Why did I have to be born? Would the world have really been all that bad off without me? Again, I know the answer. A big, resounding "NO!"
Laters

Waking too early this morning, I caught FireOpal online. Ten minutes, and he was gone. "I love you." "I love you, too." So much that I don't understand, so much that I think is hopeless, so much that's confusing and frustrating and...Ten minutes after more than a week.
*sigh* This whole thing's got me confused and conflicted. Upset, too. I don't know what to think anymore, much less what to do. It shouldn't be exclusively up to me for us to be together. I shouldn't have to sneak around conspiring just to hear his voice. He should want to share that with me. He should want to share EVERYTHING with me. And not only should he WANT to, he should DO it. Why is this so difficult? Why is this so complicated? And when will it end? Because it always ends. With me, there is no forever, not really even once upon a times. Only almost maybes. And it's always my fault. I take the responsibility for it, I cause it, I ruin it-'it' being everything. Unconsciously on purpose? Yep. I think so. So I'm the one in control, I'm the one who can be blamed, I'm the one singularly the cause of everything. Everything wrong, everything right. It's all me. What will I do fuck it up this time?
Unfortunately, I know.
Laters

I'm sick of being in pain.
"There's a huge focus on the horror in her life."
How much more?
Laters

I hate the words "I promise." They're supposed to MEAN something-everything. Not create a false hope just to shatter it. "I won't make a promise unless I am sure I will keep it." How many broken?
I am more demanding than first impressions indicate. Why do I have to think these things? Why can't I just be content? Or even think about the good things, the happy things, the love? What is so fucking WRONG with me?
Laters

I found this mini bottle of Goldschlagger in Stormy's bathroom. I think I'm going to go drink it and take a sleeping pill. Right now oblivion sounds rather appealing.
Laters

I tried to post last night while feeling alone and despondent, but it fucked up. So here's the gist of what I might have been wanting to say:
Playing around online I came across this:
"you don't know how you've betrayed me
and somehow you've got everybody fooled
without the mask where will you hide
can't find yourself lost in your lie
I know the truth now
I know who you are
and you don't love me anymore
it never was and never will be
you're not real and you can't save me
somehow now you're everybody's fool"
and now I'm sitting here trying to convince myself that it doesn't apply directly to me.
Laters

People comfort themselves, saying to others what they wish to hear. Telling each other and themselves that to contemplate insanity is to be sane, to wonder about evil is to be righteous, good. Bullshit, I say. I wonder if I'm evil, and I do not think that wondering makes it less so. I can look at my actions and thoughts, my words and memories and I can see the selfishness, the bitterness, the anger, the indignation behind much of it. Does that make me evil? I think not. But there are other things that do.
Anyway, the reason I'm thinking about this tonight is mostly Stormy. She's all bitter and pissy and not happy about being broke-a condition which of course can be blamed on ME. Oh, wait. I got ten dollars of groceries for the next two weeks and she and her husband can go out to dinner three times in one weekend. I SEE how I'm sucking her dry. And anyway, I sent her a LOT of money to set me up an apartment, most of which she spent to decorate HER apartment. Why? To impress upon my parents how much BETTER she is than they: how rich, how free, how young, how happy. Add to that the fact that *I* am the one who enabled her to GET her car when we lived together because I paid for all the taxes and first few months car payments. So in theory she OWES me money. Can I ever bring that up, point it out to either one of them? No, of course not. It's against the rules. The unspoken rules that apply to any and all interactions with Stormy. I even know EXACTLY how the conversation would go, can predict nearly verbatim what would be said on both sides. And the end result is that Stormy would be pissy/grumpy/upset and I would be feeling guilty. Like I said, sometimes it SUCKS being this intellectually gifted. No suspense.
And I can't ask for anything that SHE perceives as "extra". I HATE being this dependent on someone who's not dependent on ME for anything. I mean, it's different when living with a guy because he's obviously dependent on me for sex-or at least he'd BETTER be. And while I'm the only one she's really got, she'd manage without me. Yeah, her husband, but he doesn't KNOW her like I do; she's not as honest with him as she is with me. Yeah, she's got other friends, too, but again, she's not as honest and she doesn't keep in touch with them as well as she always has with me. And no one KNOWS her like I do, no one ever will. And her definition of "extra" is drastically different than mine. Like just because SHE doesn't use something on as consistent a basis as I do means that I shouldn't either. And she keeps saying "Why can't you just be me?" Which I know is a joke-partially. But she also means it, too. She's got this...attitude, this "I am all perfect and should be emulated" thing going on-an attitude that I know I am majorly responsible for instilling, but at the same time...well, I love her, but I think I should be allowed to be ME, and not a shallow version of her. Anyway, whenever she asks that I answer "Because I don't want to have sex with your husband." Which lightens up the atmosphere and lets her off the hook for being such a bitch. And she keeps APOLOGIZING for being so mean to me, like I'm so fragile or something. The thing is that I don't MIND her being a bitch-hell, I'm USED to it by this point-I just mind her knowing that it's irritating and something that should be apologized for and she keeps doing it anyway. That's apparently my pet peeve-I don't want any apologies, they're unnecessary to me. Just realize what you're doing and stop doing it, stop having to apologize for the same damned thing every minute of every day.
*sigh* I'm just irritable and pissy and actively female. Which of course is a good excuse for ranting, I know.
I know I'm an alcoholic, but I really do wish I had liquor here.
Laters

I wish I was stupid sometimes. So that I wouldn't have to think these thoughts, wouldn't have to look at a life more wasted than earned, wouldn't have to know the potential that's been thrown away. Wouldn't have HAD any potential to have thrown away. Ah, well. I'm still not that smart. Maybe I can have a tumor or some kind of horrible disease that'll take away my whole reasoning capacity. Or maybe not.
Laters

And I'm actively female this weekend. Which usually means that I'm ANTIsexual. But no, I'm just a horny little bitch. *sigh* WHY are things so complicated?
Laters

What is rape? Is it having said no and not being heeded? Is it being afraid to say no but wanting it to be over or never to have started? Is it force? Pain? Beating? Crying? Begging to stop having started? Some odd kind of blurring of all of the above?
Every woman has a rape fantasy. Or so I was told once. I don't suppose I'm any different; I like my partner to be forceful. So how much of my sexuality is tied up in rape? How much of my attitude about sex? How do I overcome what's happened to me, and why do I think I deserved it, asked for it even? When the only one I actually asked for anything even similar is the only one who didn't doubt me? And why am I perceived the liar when he was the one who did the wrong? Everyone, my family, friends, those whose job it was supposed to be to help me, to believe me even.
*sigh* There's something seriously fucking wrong with me. Because thinking about it makes me want to fuck more than ever.
Laters

I wish I WERE a little girl. So I could crawl into bed with someone I felt safe with, someone who I knew loves me and tell them my nightmare, tell them that I'm afraid of the thunder, of the lightning. And have them hold me and stroke my hair and whisper soft comforting inanities in my ear until I fell asleep. And know that they didn't mind holding me that way, they didn't mind me curling up beside them and not letting them go.
Ah, well. Just because you don't want to grow up doesn't mean that time stops for you.
Laters

"I wish I were still a little girl because skinned knees heal a lot faster than broken hearts."
How many times are you supposed to forgive, lord? "Seven times seventy."
At once a second every second for months? Yeah, I think I've passed that quota. Yet I continue to forgive.
Laters

*sigh* Stormy's got me doing her homework for her. And it just makes me realize how much of a liar I really am-nothing remotely intelligent about me.
Laters

Sitting here in this house not my own, I recognize the feeling of HOME about it. The way Stormy has adapted this should-be dump into a place specifically HERS. Only not hers. Or at least not hers alone. There's an obvious presence that suggests someone else has had influence here. Stormy's husband, the man who chose her, the man she chose.
And sitting here I wonder. Not only wonder, but envy. Does she feel the same of me? Probably.
*sigh*
Laters

Time passes, people grow and change. This inevitability gnaws on us, on our continued existence. Those others we played with in childhood will not be the same innocent, fun, childlike beings we knew them as if encountered later in life. And yet we are expected to converse with these once 'friends' as if we are familiar with them, with their lives, with anything about them. When in fact we know nothing other than the playfulness of a child, the attitudes and wonder of an innocent mind. Was *I* ever that innocent? I cannot recall. I remember knowing too much, thinking too much. Not being comfortable with my peers, finding companionship in those whose job it was to be superior, aloof, to teach. I don't recall having playmates as such, none that were ever close. Maybe once or twice, but I also recall Stormy taking over and me being pushed out of the friendship. Vague memories, mostly not even half remembered, only knowing because I was told it happened.
*sigh* And my ruminations are interrupted by an active and anxious Amethyst.
Laters

"My" "knight". "My" because he never was, and I didn't realize then that I didn't ever want him to be. And "knight" because he's anything but. And after everything, the nothing that he is to me, he wants to drive (how far? thirty hours?) to see me, to fuck me, to have me teach him how. I don't want to teach him. I want FireOpal to teach ME. Yet...I want to punish him, this never was. I want to make him pay. Not exactly my nature? Hmmm. Well, somewhat. I want him to drive here, want him to show up at my door, see the woman I am, the beauty of me. And show him my red, show him how very TAKEN I am. Punishment enough? I don't know. Once I want to punish someone I usually want them to suffer forever. Unfortunately, I almost never get even the simplest of revenge. Will I this time? We'll see.
Laters

"I have come to the conclusion that my subjective account of my own motivation is largely mythical on almost all occasions. I don't know why I do things."
Laters

God knows just exactly how to make me want to slit my own fucking throat. And he's a sadistic bastard in that he doles out just enough hope to make me think that ONE MORE DAY of living throat intact might be worth it.
It's not.
Laters

And life goes on. Until I slaughter Amethyst ritualistically and bathe in her blood. One of these days she'll realize it's more than just an idle threat. Because right now she's not threatened by it.
Laters

And life goes on. Until I slaughter Amethyst ritualistically and bathe in her blood. One of these days she'll realize it's more than just an idle threat. Because right now she's not threatened by it.
Laters

I feel like I'm on a pendulum. "He loves me/He loves me not." I even had a dream that I got a flower with only one petal left on it and other petals scattered at the bottom tattooed on my back. With the words "He loves me not." It looked like the flower was crying, the last petal in the shape of a tear.
But he loves me. I know he does. I believe he does and I have faith in him and in us. I'm just scared and alone and hurt. It happens. I'm never strong for me, don't know how to be. And when I don't have anyone else to be strong for...I just sort of fall apart. I know everyone thinks I have to be strong for Amethyst, but so much of me thinks that if I'm weak enough, she'll be taken away to something better. Specifically Stormy. I know I love her. I just want what's best for her, and that's not me. At least not me by myself. But on the other hand. I'm all she's had. I'm all she's known consistently when so much in her life keeps changing, I'm the one who's always been there. And she loves me. And I love her. *sigh* WHY doesn't motherhood come with an instruction manual?
On another note, I found internet access. Other than at Stormy's I mean. And it's close enough to my house to walk. Not comfortably, but it CAN be walked to. And it's in a library, which as we all know is practically heaven for me. Or it would be if they had more books, more and newer. The only downfall of this internet is that I can't access any chat programs. Which means I can't talk to FireOpal-or anyone else, but still.
Anyway, Amethyst is acting like a psycho-or like the antichrist we all know and love-and I'm getting dirty looks from the other patrons and the chic running the place.
Laters

Hope is all I had. I have only a little left. My birthday...but no. Knowing it doesn't make me believe it. Wanting it won't make it true. I suppose I'll just die then. As for why I'm waiting...
Hope.
Laters

I fell in love and never again had to cry myself to sleep alone.
Well.
That's the way it should be.
Unfortunately, there's tonight. And tears are all I have.
Laters

I feel that I have a lot to make up for. I feel that I have a lot to sort out. I feel a little lost. More than a little lost. Have I forgotten? No. I just can't remember.
Laters

"Sometimes I like to get away from this maddening shroud
Sometimes I love, you know, it's all insane
Maybe it's time for me to pack it in
Maybe it's time for me to chuck it in
Maybe it's time for me to throw...

Oh, I've got a good mind to throw it all away
Throw it all away
Throw it all away
After all, what is it worth?

Sometimes I like to get away from the saddening crowd
Sometimes I feel my life is all in vain
Maybe it's time for me to pack it in
Maybe it's time for me to chuck it in
Maybe it's time for me to throw...

Oh, I've got a good mind to throw it all away
Throw it all away
Throw it all away
After all, what is it worth?

Some days my strength walks out
Some days I can't go out
It is for real
We can walk about
We can work it over and over and over...

I've got a good mind to throw it all away..."

Stormy's husband doesn't like me. He doesn't hate me either, but...I think he's uncomfortable around me. I mean, I AM the one Stormy complains to about him. Of course, I'm also the one Stormy brags to about him-and judging by what I heard last night she has every right to brag. DAMN, that girl is loud. And since I'm not getting any, I SO didn't need to hear it. Even though I was amused.
Anyway. I need to go cook dinner.
Laters

I don't know what I was going to do. If he showed up online. Me with my "more than crazy, worse than a little unwell" status. But. He didn't.
And now I'm going to bed.
Laters

Fuck a duck. I'm angry. And hurt. And the more I think about it the more angry and hurt I get. How come HE gets to be the one asking "what next" and "what will become of us" and doubting so much when he has EVERYTHING of me and I'M the one insisting on being together but HE is preventing that? This is too fucked up. What WON'T I do, for love?
Nothing.
Laters

Another thing that I forgot to mention that makes me so angry and upset and frustrated with FireOpal is that he's consistently apologizing for the behaviours he continues to inhabit. I don't want another apology. Not one. I want a change. I want him not to have to apologize. Not for this. Not again. Not "It's all my fault and I realize that" and then go back and do the same thing again. But "It's all my fault and I realize that and from now on it's going to be different." *sigh* I told him I was demanding. I refused to read any email from him or have any contact with him at all until he sent me a letter in the mail. In his own handwriting. I feel that I've been wronged and I want him to be willing to crawl on his naked belly through broken glass to be on my good side again. In person I'd make him beg, follow me around while I pretended to still be upset and grumpy apologizing profusely for having done things wrong. Unfortunately-and I really don't need to get started on THIS topic again, do I?-he's not here in person. So to appease me I demand a letter. Yes, he must assuage my wrath. Even if I'm just pretending to still be upset and am now just being stubborn until he's grovelled sufficiently. Well, if I WERE only pretending to be upset it would be only pretending for MY part of it. I'm still REALLY, INCREDIBLY pissed at the way he's treating Atomic Tangerine.
Laters

Well, here I am. In the middle of hell, as Stormy likes to put it. The amazing thing is that she's almost sort of trying to help. Okay, to be fair, that's not really all that amazing. She loves me. I know she does. It's just that we both know she's not able to provide what I end up needing-and mostly that's just attention. We're both such different people from the last time we were together. She's MARRIED. And for REAL married, not like my bullshit. And it's very obvious-to the whole world but especially to me because I know her so well and have been around her so long. So of course I'm jealous. But she's jealous of me because of Amethyst-I guess (I mean, I DO tell horror stories about my little antichrist)-so I suppose it all works out. Ish.
I'm a little freaky tonight. Actually, to be honest, I'm a lot freaky tonight. I'm upset and alone. And lonely. None of which would be so bad. Except that I expect to be this way for a long time. Nothing changes. Well, okay. To be fair, things DO change. Dramatically. And for the worse. Always for the worse, with me. But the only REAL things that change are the DETAILS of what's making me feel like shit. So I guess SOME things DON'T ever change.
I DID get up at the ass crack of dawn this morning to take a test. A job related test of some sort that Stormy sent me to. And the reason that I mention it is because I had an amusing moment. There was a sign outside the door saying something along the lines of "Please wait for the monitor." The test was suppose to start at eight. At quarter after I disregarded the sign and went in to sit down. Bad back, you know. *LoL* Well, she shows up at eight thirty five, goes into the room (I happened to be in the hallway at that point), SHUTS THE DOOR, and ten minutes later comes back out and says "I'm the monitor and I can read" nastily tapping the "please wait" sign. I'm in shock. I mean, what if some of us are unable to sit on the floor in a fucking HOT ass hallway but are required to sit SOMEHOW and the only chairs are inside? So what do *I* say? "I can read, too, and what *I* read is 'testing starts at eight'." *LoL* Yeah, she didn't say anything to me but she DID allow me to take the shitacular test. Which I'm assuming I aced. I always do. Of course the last time I issued a blanket statement I got called on it-remember "I'll never get caught"? So maybe I should take that back. Yeah, that'll happen.
"I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell."
I miss Fire Opal. And in the more than week since I've been out of touch I've gotten a total of THREE emails. That doesn't work for me. I need LOTS more attention than that. I need to know that he's thinking about me every second of every day. I need him to love me, and lately I haven't been feeling as if he does. Quite the opposite, in fact. And KNOWING he loves me doesn't really help. I don't need PROOF-he can continue to not exist for as long as he chooses (and make no mistake it is a choice and it is HIS)-I just need...attention. I've been paying him as much attention as I possibly can-calling at all hours of the days and nights just to tell him I love him, but he doesn't see it that way because I talk to Atomic Tangerine more than I talk to him. Hell, at least she talks back. Which brings up another point. DAMN, I'm angry. At FireOpal. But he doesn't see that I love him still. All he sees is the anger, the frustration. So why am I angry? Let's start with Amethyst. Yeah, sure, he wants to be her daddy. And he's the only man that I'm ABLE, much less WILLING to share her with. But she's four. Four year olds don't GET that someone can exist without a voice or a presence. So basically, he wants her to love him because of me, because of the way I talk about him. He wants her to love a faerie tale. Also, he claims to be her father but he takes no responsibility for that role. Fathers-in my opinion, and this is DEFINITELY not based on personal experiences-should help raise their children, be a part of the childhood and upbringing. Not hide out in some third world country because they're afraid that they're too in love with the child's mother-or for some other trumped up inane reason that doesn't make any damned sense. Moving on. To Atomic Tangerine. She and I are friends. More than friends, really, but don't as ME how to exactly define it. We're family in a way that means more than blood related. And HE thinks that the only reason that she and I are friends is because of him. Talk about ARROGANCE! I mean, come on. That's just absurd. Also, she's kind of...fragile at the moment. She's having problems that he cannot help her with but that *I* can. And he refuses to let me. Like he WANTS to keep her in a perpetual state of unhealthiness. Like he's deciding her life for her. And yes, she's young, but she IS old enough to make some decisions for herself. Such as the decision of who to associate with and what SHE needs and/or wants to do with HER life. So WHY is he always getting in the way? Again, moving on. To ME, Sapphire. I deserve to be treated better by the man I love, the man who loves me back. I deserve to be talked to and met and kissed and held and a million other things that this man who REFUSES to exist to me doesn't do. And when I try to TELL him this he looks at it like I'm saying "I deserve better than you." When what I'm REALLY saying is "I deserve better FROM you." This is ridiculous. "The loving are the daring." How can I continue to believe he loves me when all I get is nothing and pain? Not even how CAN I, but why SHOULD I? *sigh* Because I love him. And I'd put up with a lot worse from someone that I love. I would and I have. And I do. He needs to be with me. But he WILL be and I know he will. And I'll wait, even though I'm impatient. I can wait for him. And he-very obviously-can wait for me. The thing that canNOT wait is Atomic Tangerine. She's in so much pain, pain that needs to be let go. She's going down fast and hard. I love her. I shouldn't have to sit idly by and watch her self-destruct. But I'm being forced to do so. Even though I know what to do and how to do it and I'm the ONLY ONE who can help. I'm the one she trusts. I'm the one she needs and I'm the one she's chosen. And I'm the one who can handle it; I'm the one who knows how. And most importantly, I'm the one who's WILLING. I'm in for the whole ride. The ride being the rest of my life. I'm not about to jump out; I'm not about to leave anyone behind. Well, okay, maybe the weak and stupid, but DEFINITELY not those I love.
*sigh* My one night with internet and what do I do? Whine about my life. Or lack thereof.
Laters