Friday, November 15, 2013

Excuse me, mister



Excuse me, I'm tired of people thinking everything I do is for someone else. No.
The things I do are for me. I want to. They distract me. I was told to do them by someone else who owns me. Or I'm trying to not sink into the big black hole of depression and self-hatred.
The things I DON'T do? Those are all because of that someone else.
They are also because I just don't want to do them. I don't want to date anyone. I don't want to have sex with randoms. I don't want to go clubbing. I don't want to go out and get wasted and black out around college frat boys. So, I don't.
Simple, really. Nothing is ever as complicated as you think it is, and also, not trying to prove shit to anyone. I just...do what I do. Isn't that the same for everyone else? If I buy a monster instead of a rockstar one day, it's because I fucking want a monster that day instead of a rockstar, or maybe it's on sale!
If I take the time to handwrite you notes and leave them at your house with presents, then yeah, I'm in love with you, but I have ZERO control over how you feel so I try to put it out of my mind and go about my days and days. I don't sing well, but I LIKE IT, so fuck you. I'm not a world-class dancer, but that WAS my safety self-expression over the summer. When dancing stopped being fun because bitches started judging and like making it a competition, look what happened? I tried to die. So now, I sing. I narrate what I do, through song. I sing along to almost anything so pay no attention to the words I'm singing. Someone else wrote them. It's not a competition. I don't give two shits who I'm annoying when I sing in public. If they don't like it, they can move away from me or put headphones in. I also found out when you go about in singing in public, people tend to leave you alone and your own voice drowns out whatever bullshit other people are spewing at you, so...it works out for me. This is like...all I did as a child...So...gonna go ahead and keep being weird as fuck and not accepting rides to Vegas from strangers and not meeting randoms from Instagram who like to write in blood on my roof anymore.

P.S.
I'm having a really hard time because for Christmas, fucking Christmas, which already makes me want to blow my brains out, well my family decided they want to go ahead and do EXACTLY WHAT MY MOM EXPLICITLY TOLD US THOUSANDS OF TIMES SHE DIDN'T WANT.
They want to take her ashes and put them....in a fucking cemetery. THE REASON SHE WANTED HER ASHES SPREAD IN THE SNOW, ON BIG BEAR LAKE, WAS BECAUSE SHE WAS VERY MUCH AGAINST THE IDEA OF BEING IN A CEMETERY. She didn't want us to be stuck going to the same spot to mourn her. She said we could do that from anywhere, it isn't one fucking place where the remains of her body are. That, and she loved the snow more than anything so near the end she even said to make it easier on us that it didn't have to be Big Bear, BUT IT SHOULD BE SNOW, IN THE MOUNTAINS.
Nope. Family DGAFs about her. I feel like no one fucking knew her, no one loved her like I did, no one cares about what she wanted. They're being selfish. Also, "BIL" took pictures of her dead body "for the children" and my aunt got pissed at him. My mom didn't even want the kids to see her body, and there's their dad TAKING PICTURES.
So when I'm looking down in the dumps, please don't assume what it's about. It could be about something as serious as this, or maybe my face just looks weird that day. I guess you'll never know...if you never ask. Even then...you'll leave with an unsure feeling in the pit of your stomach. Was I even real? Probably not.

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