pudding

the world today is one mixed up little place. and this grin on my face is misleading. i don't know why i just wrote that. chinese food for dinner, the fortune cookie brings dumb messages. i laughed, hardcore. and then silence, yeah, that terrible peace that follows a good laugh. when you know it's not going to get any better. and i just want to not be treated like a freak, because i'm not the thousand pound bearded lady, nor am i lizard boy. brought home a bag of cornbread from work, didn't know how much i like cornbread until today. i love that shit. and i want to mean what i say all the time. if something sucks i want to be able to say it loud and clear. but there is this pesky little thing called tact, and it kicks my ass into submission every time without fail. even the good things i have to keep to myself because to someone else they may not be good things. so i spend a lot of time bursting at the seams with shit on my mind, but every time someone asks what is going on in my life i say "nothing." and that is a personal problem. even on the wonderful internet i am silenced by my own good sense. and i really wish i could unload my brain and spill my fucking guts as to what the fuck is wrong with me most days or how i believe i came to be so fucked up. but now is not story time, and i only purge those things with the benefit of doctor to patient privilege. that is the other reason i don't want to go back to therapy, i've related my life story once, and once in a year is enough. my valentines flowers are officially dead. i wrecked my room this morning trying to find something to wear, nothing looked right. the ladies know what i'm talking about. you can try on every outfit you own and end up wearing the same jeans and a t-shirt you always do. that is how i ended up this morning, black hoodie and jeans. and i wish there was some big makeover type thing i could do to myself, but i have no hair to cut off and i have waxed and tweezed myself to smooth perfection. and i feel like screaming right now. why do i even bother trying to do good. attempting to set up a birthday party for joe on friday. i'm looking into party food options, and thinking about trying this rum punch recipe i saw in a magazine. i feel like i should be wearing my goth girl makeup, paint on my sad face. it's never good for more than a second, ever. i'm restless, god only knows what the hell i'm going to do. i just want to pack my shit up and hit the road. live like a modern day gypsy. it's too dangerous to do shit like that these days, but one can fanaticize about it. and maybe it's not as bad as i was thinking. i can convince myself that a situation is pretty dour. that is all one big fucking rant about nothing. there have got to be people out there that have important things to write about, i wish i could find those people and read their stuff, maybe i would gain something from it. this whole blogging this is a little self-centered anyway. i know that no one out there cares how many times a week i lose all my fucking marbles, it's more for my own peace of mind than anything else. i think the good thing about reading people's blogs even if they aren't talking about anything particularly important is that it gives you insight into a life other than your own. makes you feel for them, or maybe think for two seconds about someone elses' point of view. that is a healthy exercise in humanity i think. and i have to wonder if the zoloft is really working or if i have just stopped caring as much. this entry is far too long, if you have made it this far you are my hero. i took a nap earlier so i am totally nowhere close to tired, which sucks. i have high hopes for this party, i hope it goes over well.