Ok so this is not my first blog. No, no for I am the Queen of starting things and never finishing.
Don’t even try and argue that you are, in fact, the actual King or Queen of lack of follow through because well, it’s not exactly a title one should strive for. But since this is my blog I will give myself that title because it is sadly one of my many, and I will reign henceforth.
Also to prove my point - how many of you have actually started a blog, than forgot about it, than wrote in it once more to make sure the account still existed, than left it for another year only to find that your account had indeed been deleted. Yeah…ok so maybe a lot of you have but damn it enough about you for this is a blog dedicated to muah!
This is also a case and point of something I will probably write quite frequently about. Caring far too much of what other people think of me. I would love to say that everyone does it but unfortunately I have met the few that could really not give a flying fuck what anyone thought of them. They always seem to be followed around by this strange spineless mass of jelly quivering behind them… oh dear. That would be me.
If you recoiled while reading that last bit and thought “Dear God she’s mean to herself, no wonder she has no self-confidence” well yes. Exactly. I am my own bully. Although sometimes I am convinced it’s really my mother trying to control me mentally because she has some super power that I know nothing of… besides the fact that she can render even the most patient person into a shaking mass of rage while contemplating where to hide her body. Ah, I digress.
The blog. THIS blog. This will *hopefully* become some sort of solace. Yes, solace. I love to write and my internal dialogue loves to talk so I thought what the hell why not write it for the world to see…like every other blogger on the planet. This may be a bit different, but since I don’t read that many blogs, it may be exactly the same. I’m about to journey in to madness. And this blog will be about my wholehearted attempts to stop that. It will also include the slithy toves and borogoves of my mind.
Yes, madness. Another psychotic episode. Another what-the-fuck-is-she-doing-OMG-WTF-is-she-doing- someone-lock-her-in-her-room-before-she-runs-screaming-down-the street-again-episode. For you see I am beginning to lose the grasp on reality.
“Oh you’re just being dramatic.”
Yes, I am dramatic but how normal is talking to yourself in public and thinking you’re in a movie and that random bystanders have lines they’re supposed to say to you in order propel you forward? Or hallucinations of people that aren’t there and creatures that don’t exist or voices telling you that not only do you suck, but your ass looks like one of those stress-relief balls - squishy and always the same size no matter how much you squeeze it.
Don’t fret. I’m not the killer sort of crazy. The voices aren’t telling me to do anything to other people… yet (insert nervous laugh here). And my loving “friends” have told me to start asking for change.
But seriously, if all the world’s a stage, mine has become a fucked up drama with totally tasteless humor and a fantastical taste for the weird.
Today is a medium day. Ah, my scale. There’s highs, there’s lows and yes, least of all there’s the medium, the middle if you will. These days are few and far in between, Although, I am quite perky right now so in actuality it’s probably a high day. Yes, definitely high. I just went to get lunch and actually spoke to a boy with out 1. running away 2. spitting 3. snorting 4. and I ACTUALLY smiled.
Medusa’s nipples that’s out of character for me.
(Hey, think about it. If you saw Medusa, would you really look at her nipples? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Easy decision. Eyes = stone. Tits=wtf who knew they could have scales.)
You may be reading this (hooray if you got this far) and thinking. “This totally isn’t real”. And my question to you dear reader is:
Is any of it?