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.

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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….

i’m writing this because no one ever responds when i ask for feedback

when i was nineteen, i started going to therapy because i was dating a guy who i knew was bad for me, but i could not break up with him.
i knew he was bad for me before i even started dating him. me & another friend would make fun of him all the time calling him “geek lord” and telling each other horrible true stories about him. lets call him “lester.”
lester was all industrial & goth (it was the early 90’s.) he owned a “mystic bookstore” and was a total pervert. he would brag about how many times a day he masturbated–while attending to his store. he was so lazy he would pee in a pitcher instead of walking to the bathroom.
so i knew he was gross.
but i also knew he had the hots for me.
and somehow i started dating him. i’m not sure how it happened. i only know that i have extraordinarily low self-esteem and just want people to love me but cannot believe that anyone can actually love me.
so i started dating the “geek lord,” and he would do things like lock me in his basement to keep me from storming off. he once called my answering machine (the 90’s remember) and ¬†left between 20 & 50 messages starting with “fuck you, bitch,” and ending with him softly moaning along to a ministry song.
everyone i knew told me to break up with him.
“i know i should,” i would answer, but i would stay.

so i started going to therapy.

among many other things, my therapist told me i had the social skills of a five year old. i was nineteen at the time.

the social skills of a five year old.

crap.

i eventually broke up with him for good. i was trying to shop & he wouldn’t let me shop. that is a weird line in the sand especially considering i really don’t like shopping. however, i had decided i needed to change my wardrobe. if i just changed my wardrobe, everything would magically be better, right?
so i needed to change my wardrobe.
years later i realize that this is part of having anxiety & ocd…but back then i just recognized it as a need that i need need needed.
lester went shopping with me. but every store it was all about him & what would he look good in? then he got tired of shopping and insisted i was done.
i refused to stop, and he tried to force me into his car.

so i ran. literally.
and then i changed my phone number.
i changed my locks.
i stopped going anywhere in that small college town that i might see lester.

it was the first time i had to go to extremes like that…but not the last.

so i am sitting here. feeling defeated about no one responding to my blog. no one responding to my facebook. and jenny lawson not validating my existence. so i am alone; alone and arguing with children and dogs. all while i have just gone to extreme measures to break up with yet another abusive narcissist whom i desperately looked for love from…

and i wonder…where are my social skills now? have i made it any further?

and wondering if maybe my therapist was being generous in her assessment.

why am i so needy? why am i always searching for that love i believe i will never find? why does it feel like a knife in my heart when i look at someone else’s blog and their “about” page has more likes than my blog has in its entirety? what does it matter…or why does it matter?

but it does, somehow.

fuck. i just feel so alone.

and i read jenny lawson’s book, and i sob because she might be fucked up…but she has people who love her. i don’t have that.

and worse…i can’t even imagine having it.