"Good luck with your mental disorder/addiction/selfish need for around the clock world wide sympathy and Daddy issues".
a reader sent me this in regard to my blog (in the same breath as "I still love you, but that's irrelevant.)
to clear things up; i do NOT wish to garner sympathy from this page, nor do I spill my guts out with the intent of stirring up any kind of pity in my readers.
I simply write a blog because i feel that some things are relatable to the people who DO read, and because it's my only outlet for any kind of creative verbalization of my thought processes and emotional state.
so, with that being said, if you feel the same as that reader does, then here's an idea:
don't type this address into the bar at the top of your browser.
so there's that.
i'm currently feeling empty, both literally and figuratively.
i've been mistaken for an escort twice this week. i wonder if it's because i've been wearing more makeup than usual, or if it's the way i dressed that day. Do escorts wear suspenders and tank tops? maybe?
i don't want to write anymore for fear of making whomever is reading this thinking that i'm being clutchy or self-pitying.
i have created my own little hell and in it i will stay until it's finally time to get out of it before i burn to death. The first steps to getting out have been put into motion, and i'm bloody scared. Scared of leaving behind my crutches and walking on my own down this path without having something to fall back on in moments of weakness.
i miss my friends, but i am staying far and removed from everyone until i start the healing process. i stay in bed for hours and hours at a time instead of being social or calling friends because i have started to feel like a burden. One can only talk about their problems for so long before they start to feel redundant and stupid.
I just wish i had a friend to watch a movie with or enjoy some sort of distraction that didn't involve booze or ulterior motives.
FTW i'm off to bed.