why so bitter

i find myself
wondering
what i did
that i do not
deserve
happiness
what did i do
that i don’t
get to taste
sweetness
what is it
about me
that screams
“so very not
special”?

with the crashing & burning of yet another attempt to reconcile with dusty…i find myself in this mindset.
why do i allow men/relationships to take me for granted? why don’t i get flowers & fawning?
what is it about me….
this has been something that is deep in the bones of me. do i expect to be treated this way? is that why it is so difficult for me to demand more?

adoration

a few pages back i wrote a journal entry where i suggested i could be adored.
it made me so uncomfortable, i spent days wondering why.

love in the time of ocd

is it love
or ocd
do i want him
or is it just
that i want to get it
right
have a do-over
fix a wrong
scrub a black mark off
my soul
forgive me, ex-boyfriend
for i have sinned
it might be love
but it is most definitely
ocd
he is my crooked painting
my light switch
maybe left on
he is that itch
that involuntary
twitch
getting over him
getting over it
is my
mount everest
(i’m ready to start
climbing)

busy with the self-analysis, and it felt like an egon schiele moment.

i like how it turned out. this is how i feel. lumpy bumpy and dislocated. hunting for publishers and refreshing myself on writing query letters after a couple of decades of lying low…as i said in yesterday’s post, it all has me feeling fragile. trying to ignore the little voices as they snarl, “who the fuck would publish you?”
grumpy bumpy lumpy me.

the wrong one

after all this time
after everything
or
because of everything
i just can’t believe i am the kind of person
who deserves to be loved
whenever
i see someone i would like to call
my own
i worry they will find their true love
before
i can convince them
to love me.

look how pretty i am.
when i met dusty, i believed in my heart i was the wrong one for him. we worked together in this restaurant and there was a girl there who did not work for the restaurant, but was a care-taker for a mentally challenged man who worked with us. i thought she would be the perfect one for dusty. i believed he was a better person than me and that he deserved a better person than me. i worried he would one day realize this.
so i have a small crush on someone i follow on instagram and when i went to follow a woman i know, i–all of a sudden–was convinced that she was the perfect one for my crush & that if i followed both of them they would somehow meet & realize this.
i have serious issues.
i am happy to report that i decided to follow her despite my feelings of inadequacy.

all of me

i just wanted
to see
if i could fill up a page
with me.

(i like this one–i don’t always like my self-portraits–but i really really like this one)

i am feeling a bit overwhelmed by the online dating. trying not to become jaded with all the ickiness of it…but still keeping it as a viable option for having (at the very least) a conversation.
however
much like grade school
no one i’ve liked has liked me back.
so i fill up a page with me.
here i am!

don’t forget! if you love (or even just like it) my art, you can now buy a book that i illustrated: mistress of mud

love me

i want you to love me
but let’s be honest
i’m probably just going to
disappoint
you.
so
instead of a handshake
i will cut to the chase
kick you in the ankle
& run away.

unlovable me

one thing i have succeeded at
one thing i am really good at
one thing i can do
i have completely internalized
that i am unlovable
done!
check mark that box!
my beautiful frankenstein monster’s complex
see?
i have even named it
it is a part of me
i have let it become me
i have let it define me
wrapping its sticky kisses
around me
whispering
“who needs ’em? it’s you & me against the world”
a battle i have already lost
because deep down
don’t laugh
i just
want
to be
loved….

a fellow blogger…and dare i say–friend–wrote a nice review of me in an effort to help me override my setting of self-sabotage.
that put me in a tail spin of imposter syndrome & unlovablility & made both really happy–but also want to dig a hole & hide away…so i got to examine those reactions and write journal pages about them.
yay!
see, you too can poke the demons! you just have to be nice to me and make me question those little whispering bastards.

famous

i have been waiting
all my life
to be interviewed
i love answering questions
go ahead
ask me anything
pfft
fame is wasted
on the famous

i write down random thoughts…memories…feelings…epiphanies. these become my journal pages.
it’s a fun exercise.
sometimes it is light…sometimes it is dark.
when i get it right…it’s both.
i wrote this one on saturday. i have written seven more pages since then. but my process is usually that i illustrate them in the order i write them.

so patience my sweet.
more darkness to come.

pariah prophesies

i am pretty sure
that my opinion
will never be a popular one…
but
somehow
that never stops me
from sharing
in fact
my unpopularity
eggs me on….

so listening to david bowie while doing self-portraits can have interesting effects. this one actually reminds me of my sister patrice. i figure if i see a family resemblance in my self-portraits, i’m doing a good job of it–especially since i rarely look in a mirror–ever. i mean, i am often out in public going, “holy fuck, i have no idea what i look like,” and hoping for the best…though suspicious when everyone is smiling at me in a sad sort of sympathetic way….

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