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Snapshots of My Life
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How unbelievably broken are you when you find yourself wishing you were suicidal. Like that just feels like another level of messed up
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A letter to cariad:
Had a dream about you last night, that you came back. We were in a mall, and it was surprisingly normal-until the actor who played Captain Holt showed up.
Woke up and remembered you’re still gone.
I didn’t get back to sleep for a while, but I think I slept a little. Didn’t dream again, of anything or of you.
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How do you keep going when there’s only pain, and only loneliness, but you know the end would also be pain, and loneliness?
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Fiftythird
If you adopt a 9-month old puppy, you give him time to adjust to the new environment and new people and new other dog he’s now living with. You don’t take him to the fucking pound 24 hours after getting him because he did something wrong.
After driving three hours one way to pick him up from the pound without half his stuff, I’m going to be even more hardass about who adopts animals from me.
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Fiftysecond
I just had a panick attack qhile writing a newspaper ad for my own dog, while sitting in the office next to my mother. She didn’t say a word.
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Fiftyfirst
The best Christmases,
are the ones when I cry.
If I am sheding tears,
then something has moved me to do so.
If I am crying,
I am doing something
other than
sitting, numb, in a corner.
Waiting for it all to be over.
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Fiftieth
I’m so tired. All I want to do is sleep, but I can’t sleep in because when the dog gets up I have to get up and I have to run the house for my mom. I’ve been relegated to the basement because of the dog and all I want to do is sleep in my own bed again after months of being away. I’m supposed to be writing a novel for school but every time I have a smidgen of time to work I’m so tired I can’t. I want to but I just can’t. My parent’s are so busy fussing over how my youngest brother isn’t neurotypical they’re missing that their eldest isn’t either.
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Fourtyninth
I made a mistake getting a puppy. I was selfish and I only thought about what I had wanted for so long. But now I’ve caused so many problems and I can’t do anything now. I caused my Aunt and Uncle problems, I’m causing my family endless problems, I caused camp problems cause they were taking care of him for me, and most importantly I caused my puppy problems. If I hadn’t been so stupid he wouldn’t have had to stay at camp and live in those conditions and maybe right now he’d have a big loving family to take care of him instead of just me.
I love him and I’ve only had him four days but maybe I have to find him a new home. No one else should have to suffer just because I can’t think of anyone but myself.
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Fourtyeighth
My brother met my dog today. He has yet to refer to him as anything other than ‘it’ or ‘the rat’ and has given a set of ultimatums that my mother has agreed to.
One of them is that my dog cannot be in our house for longer than 12hr in any 30 day window.
As long as I have my dog I can’t be in my house for longer than 12hr in any 30 day period.
In the next 12-15 years, I can’t go home.
I can’t go home.
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Fourtyseventh
I don’t think it really matters to me what gender the person I fall in love with identifies as. The only thing that really matters is whether or not they love me back.
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Fourtysixth
My church choir has over 60 members, including professional musicians and music students from one of the local universities who are at church specifically on a scholarship program to learn music with us. But often I feel like my friends, some of whom I would love to have join the choir with me and who have been thinking about it, just throw it away as being worse just because it’s a church choir. They’ve chosen to join the college choir instead, even though in my opinion we do harder music, have better singers, and are very flexible to college students.
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Fourtyfifth
I have a puppy now. Name’s Cricket. He’s still smaller than our largest cat, sweet as pumpkin pie, and pretty quiet. Already knows how to sit and is working well on stay even though he’s only four months old.
My brother, who will be home for all of a week and a half, has just informed us that it’s either him or the dog for Christmas. Our choice.
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Fourtyfourth
I saved someone’s life once. Didn’t know until years later. They told me they’d been planning on comitting suicide, but I’d started talking to them just before they actually did it, and that changed their mind. And years later they told me that and thanked me, cause they had a boyfriend and a career path and hope, and they wouldn’t have gotten any of that if it weren’t for me. I’ve never told a single person about that. It just never seemed right to tell.
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Fourtythird
Last Friday I cried during my voice lesson. I sang quietly, and when my voice instructor told me to sing as loud as I could, I panicked and sang quieter than ever-my voice breaking. She noticed and stopped me. Tears started to fall when she asked me if I liked my voice, and I couldn’t speak to say no. Similarly when she asked me if anyone had told me my singing was bad, I could only nod yes. She then said a rather on the nose comment about how she hoped it wasn’t a family member, because she wouldn’t want to call anyone in my family stupid. I laughed internally and almost replied that she could go right ahead and call him stupid, but that would be breaking a Rule so I didn’t. I have to sing in the area class in a week; I have no idea how I will manage that.
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Fourtysecond
How do you help someone who doesn’t want help, who doesn’t even realize they need it?
I have a very close friend, most would call her a sister—though I refrain from doing so based on the terrifying qualities of siblinghood demonatrated by my brother, for whom I care very much. She was treated very badly by life before she had even properly emerged into it, things for which I will remain forever hostile to her birth mother. Though we now spend much of our time apart due to my being in college, my thoughts linger on her, and her future, every day. We used to joke about me opening a vet office, our mutual friend living next door, and she living with one or both of us making art. I still cherish the innocence we had making that dream life, for now I can see that possibility growing nearer and nearer and it terrifyies me. What will her life be like if she cannot find a good job, when she can’t handle her own finances, is too anxious to meet postential life partners (not that I encourage that as the immediate option), cannot drive despite being 22 and living in the american midwest? As much as I will happily take her in if needed, that will never be a permanent solution, if even possible.
Recently her sister, who too was not given a fair chance, has been acting up. Stealing money from their adopted parents to pay for vapes, sneaking out, avoiding life despite having graduated high school. I want to help her but am at a loss as to how to do so. I can see the pain that she leaves in her parents and siblings as she, to us, seems to fade towards a similar path her birth mother set.
Similarly, a different friend at school is floundering. He is lost as to what he wants to do with his life, his major chosen and fulfilled more out of a lack of options than an interest. Now he is thinking of hair dressing and massuse, both of which are good, valid jobs, but both ones that pay little and require more training—on top of the expensive bachelors degree he is about the recieve. I very much want him to suceed and do what he enjoys with his future, but I worry for his happiness when he is paying off student loans and living off a hair dresser’s wage. As much as I hate that it is, money is the focal point around which our society revolves. He has looked a bit at post-higher education level work, but seems disinterested in much of what he’s found. He is changed from the boy I spent weeks in the woods with four years ago, understandably, but I do not always like the differences. For all I know, he has spent far more time and conderation on other career prospects, but he has not felt the desire to tell me. There is an enormous world of very strange and exciting jobs out there (such as managing social media outreach for a museum, which I dare to think he would rather enjoy), and I hope he can find his way to one.
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Fourtyfirst
You wanna know why I like nicknames so much? Cause there’s nothing special about a name. Anybody can say it. Teacher calls role, whole class knows your name; someone looks at your license, they know your name.
Now nicknames, they’re special; they’ve gotta be earned. They tell you somethin about a person; somethin they made their own.
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Fourtieth
Because I am not a woman! And while I know not whether it was my body or my soul that decided this, I know it still to be me!
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