what didn't kill me never made me stronger

Could really use a drink. Or three. Or seven.

Hard week, shitty day, now boyfriend went off to play with his friends and left me behind on a Friday night, six months pregnant, alone and lonely. What the FUCK?

I am not a happy camper.

californians

This reminds me of basically everyone from CA. Particularly the women.
It's taking a long time to get used to :(

feeling all the feels

I've been trying to keep it to myself, but you guys -- my life is a fucking shit show right now. I'm getting kicked out of my studio because the main house was sold, I'm close to broke and totally unprepared to move, my boyfriend is making long-term plans without discussing it with me until afterward because apparently he doesn't understand what it means to be in a serious relationship, I can't focus on work AT ALL, and I'm still super weak and tired and emotional from being so sick.

I feel like I am losing my fucking mind. Uplifting thoughts would be appreciated.

soggy quilts and jackals

Jumped ship, escaping. Fuck this shit, I'm out. Swept away in a deep, deceptive current, struck and stuck against sloping rocks. Thick blankets, useless now, soaked and cold and burdensome and onerously heavy, dragged out painstakingly and laid flat to dry. Night falling. Small fire, no food. Unexpected, unwelcome, unhelpful company. Will not be hushed. What will find us in the night if she will not hush? Jackals. Pitch black ones, ears perked. Slow and steady and menacing and coming straight for us through the dusk. There's a shotgun at hand, but it's old and empty, and cocking and firing for show of strength produces only the faintest click, a sound so inconsequential as to be simultaneously insulting and intensely embarrassing. Strike out feebly with the blunt end. Give the alpha a mild headache, at best. Prepare to have your face eaten.

Or maybe just wake up.

out of sorts

Feeling very emotional the last few days, for no discernible reason.

:(

Well, it's over.

If he was an asshole this would be so much easier. But he's not. He's pretty great. And we were pretty great together. And oh, I hate this! I hate this, I hate this. And I am sad. And angry. And frustrated. And disappointed, and weary, and confused.

Fortunately, however, all you have to do to win at life is get up more times than you fall down.

So. Here we go.

(Again.)

should have known better

FB is an emotional minefield today.
What the fuck was I thinking?

theology of the downtrodden

[excerpt from a letter I recently wrote]

I am in a stubborn mood, and so I won't commit to whether or not God is "real" -- especially not in the way most people understand God to be. But for the sake of argument and of comfort and of logic, I will say, if God is any kind of real: I don't (and never will) believe God knew my parents would fuck it up this badly... God only knew that they could.

I didn't have to suffer. I didn't HAVE to be hurt. But I was. None of it had to happen. But it did. And that is all on them, on my parents. I was entrusted to their care. They could have made better choices. They didn't. I could have been rescued any number of times, by any number of people. But I wasn't. And here we are.

(I also didn't have to be raped. There is no moral to that story, and I can't tell you how many people I've wanted to punch for implying that there might be. The only thing I might concede to is that my babies had to die... but not for any cosmic reason, and not to teach me anything, and not because God "needed" them in Heaven (what the fuck does that even mean?!) but for the simple fact that my poor body could not support their lives and my own at the same time. This is the saddest fact of my life and I don't know if I can ever truly forgive the people whose fault it is. I do know it's certainly not my own.)

So. I just wanted to offer this to you, despite my ambivilance: never believe for one second that God would want this for me, would choose this for me. That is too ugly to be borne, and it will shatter you. Know that every human makes a choice every minute of their life, and the choices are entirely their own. That is what is so desperate and holy and beautiful and terrifying about humanity, what we wish we could deny. That WE did this. All of us. With our creative power, we did THIS. But we can turn it around, too. That is what power is for. For making things happen. Like it or not, we can't deny our power, or the responsibility that comes with it; we can only decide if we are going to use it to make good things happen, or bad.