Rest in Peace Joe Randall.
February 12, 1993 - February 13, 2010


























More death.

I'm trying really really hard to find enough good things to outweigh the bad things...
It's not working.

Good
I got 4,000 pageviews. Woot.
My boyfriend and I just celebrated 2 years.


All of this wonderful business has been handled.
The state discontinued two of my scholarships.
That means I can't afford to go to school this semester.
That also means they'll be wanting me to pay back my loans about now.
I can't get another loan... because I can't register.
I can't register... because I owe the school money.
See how wonderfully circular that is.



Bad
I have writer's block.
My dad has been out of work for over a year.
My car is dead.
Not that I had car insurance anyway.
I have no health insurance either.
That means I can't afford my prescriptions.
That means I'm getting sicker.
"Sick?" You say. "What are you sick with?" I am sick with Dysautnomia... which means I'm also sick with Peripheral Neuropathy and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome.
"What's that?" You say.
THAT SUCKS. That's what that is.
But it's not just me, you see. It's my mother too.
My room has no door.
That means I have no privacy.
That means half my clothes are missing.
That means my sister told all of Facebook what's in my closet.
I haven't had real sleep in a week.
I have to work tomorrow... for my $4 an hour job because I can't get SSI.
Maybe I'll pass out again and get the week off...
But I need the money.
I had to use my might-as-well-be-nonexistant savings to buy Christmas for the siblings that still believe in Santa Clause.

Death is all around me

I am learning how to live.

No tears left...
though I have not cried.

I am always waking from the numb.

I feel the present.

I see the past.

Lately, I've been shifting very quickly between simple complacency and complete despair. In several short moments every day I discover that the anti-mental-breakdown walls I've built around me are only made of paper, but my mental health is far too sound. I almost wish I'd just *snap* and then I could exist in a sanctuary of insanity.

So... after being internet-less for a whole month, I'm finally making some progress on that book I promised myself I'd finish this year, which probably won't happen, but that's besides the point. I would like to know if you like it or hate it or could care less about it.

I won't post the whole thing here, though. Just pieces. I think it's a good story line and I've been told so by other people... it took years to invent something completely original (as far as I'm aware), and I would hate to see it stolen and destroyed.

If however, you are or and you have questions. Ask away.

Also... my mood seems to be stuck on "bliss"... which I guess works since I don't have this obsessive need for the world to know how I'm feeling. You get enough of that out of my poetry, I'm sure.

One last thing.
I've finally reached an absolute decision about whether or not I'll experiment with drugs. The decision is no. My mind scares me without adding all that jazz. I'd probably accidentally divide by zero... logically, and cause the world to implode.