blunt

my life is just
a series
of fuck ups
sorry you got caught
up
in that
maybe
they should just
launch me to the moon
send me
to the bottom of the sea
get me as far as fuck
away
from
anyone
everyone
i can possibly
harm.

i am so very sick right now. in a literal sense. my face hurts from my sinuses being all jenky. so i did end up binging some netflix because i’m not good for much else. but at least i was watching a good show–get shorty–as it has been made into a series now. so totally worth the binge.
and i do like an irish accent.
but here i am sick. and now my washer is broken. amid all the other things i need help with in my life & all i can do is lament that i have no one to take care of me…never did really…and it so totally sucks.
this journal page started as a text to my first husband who has started contacting me again after a long silence that began with my telling him i wanted to smash his head.
i’m not the best ex-wife…or wife…so why do both my husbands keep coming back for more? so confusing.
anyhoo.
i didn’t think i would hear from him again. usually if i just look at him funny he does a quick retreat, much less my threatening the consummate condition of his head.
whatever.
i don’t need another ex-husband in my life.
i need someone who is going to stay
& take care of me…but that is a hard idea for me to swallow…
that anyone would ever do that for me…because…well, i’m me.

a simple but damning curse on mankind.

INKtober twenty-third

another dead  end in the  labyrinth of  my life i
turned  a  corner  &  was all  like, “no y’all,  this
this  is  the  way  out—-i  know it for sure now”
only to  find yet another  gushing  wound  that
better serves to be held fast apply pressure for
godssakes i’m  going to bleed out… wait, where
was i  headed with this…. oh yes,  another  bad
decision….    another  wrong  turn….     another
immersion into false hope, losing myself in the
cult  of  my  own  personality &  not learning a
goddamned  thing from all of my  many  many
many
mistakes

i don’t always illustrate my journal pages with a literal depiction of anything pertaining to what i wrote…but sometimes…i do.
just be thankful i went with pan’s labyrinth rather than trying to portray myself as gerald the goblin king & his mighty bulge.

anyhoo.

and my flock of dodo birds.
don’t forget the dodo birds when i am making decisions based on pursuing my own extinction…playing with self-fulfilling prophesies.

but my fevered brain is settling once more into a holding pattern of isolation. embracing my lonely.

comic idea: how to properly & carefully choose netflix shows to pacify & sedate a lonely heart….

INKtober sixteenth

i don’t know
if i should
laugh
or
cry
live or die
make the best
of a
bad
situation
or…
just don’t…
my heart’s not into it
this game of
life
my heart
left
during intermission
my life is
an intermission
as the band says
should i stay
or
should i
go?

so this is completely stupid. i started watching a tv show on netflix. a mediocre tv show that reminded me of all the cop/detective shows i so so loved as a child.
the mysteries of laura…it even has a stupid name.
& yet i let it be my soothsayer.
the series begins as the lead character–a strong, intelligent, & stubborn woman, is just divorcing her adorable but cheating asshole of a husband.
the show was pretty predictable & the characters lacked depth and each episode was neatly wrapped up in 50 minutes….but i was glued to the series as i waited to see what would happen between laura & her cheating ex, jake.
he was devoted to getting her back.
she found a hot new guy.
but then dumped him when she realized she was still in love with jake.
alas.
jake proposed to someone else… (so much for devotion.)
and the second season ended…not to be renewed by nbc.

fuck a fucking duck.
my magic eightball went ka-put.
and i sobbed like a toddler who dropped her ice cream on the hot sidewalk.

so i’m kind of disgusted with myself right now.
really actually pretty much
disgusted.
and i’m probably going to cry myself to sleep again tonight.

thanks nbc.
think of that next time you decide to cancel a show.

i am both, harold & maude….

no.
chances are
i won’t kill myself
because i have kids
& anxiety about death
but isn’t it enough
that i want to?
that i think about it?
a lot?
enough
for someone to take me seriously?
it was almost better when i didn’t
reach out & ask for help
when i didn’t try to create a supportive
community
it was almost better
because then i could only blame
myself
for not having anyone to
talk to.
and keep some hope
alive.

maybe i’m reaching out to the wrong people. problem is…there are only so many people i like. that i trust. that i feel safe or comfortable reaching out to. and none of them catch me when i fall.

maybe i should be a hermit. embrace my loneliness and dive into it. be my loneliness.

when i suggested to one “friend” that i felt like killing myself, he said, “shut up. i know you wouldn’t do that to your kids.”
another “friend” completely ignored my request for help, and i have not heard from him since.
another just treated it as business as usual and barely seemed to register my state of pain.

but, again, maybe i am reaching out to the wrong people.
maybe i purposely don’t reach out to the people who might be able to help.
maybe i want to be a mess.

or maybe i know it is easier to fail than to put in the work to save myself. or maybe i think i will fail and don’t want to know for sure…so i just don’t go there.

so i self-medicate with whiskey and netflix…and try to get through the day.

music helps.

lots of music.

green man

oh.
i did manage to finish an inking.
sure,
it took me like 3 days when normally i do one a day…
but you must understand
i have been binge watching the australian tv show
offspring
for four days straight.

fuck me.

last time my kids when to the ex’s
i was all like
“whoo hoo! look at me go!”

this time i just want to crawl in a hole
and wait for them to come home.
i tried to clean the living room today
and failed.
and, of course, i poisoned iggy’s dog

iggy is the one most attached to me
of my four attached children.
i was 43 weeks when the doctors insisted on
cutting him out of me.
sometimes i think
he would have stayed if it were left up to him.

he is the one calling me on the phone
telling me how much he misses me.
and i wonder.
is he missing me so much because i am missing him?
or vice versa?
do we have a link that is making both of us sad
somehow
this time?

but

despite my sad lonely lonliness
and lonely alone sadness
i did finish an inking.

so there is that.

greenman1

and now back to binge watching
aussie tv
on netflix.

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