brain's working in overload

anyone with bi-polar disorder, or anyone living with someone who has it, knows that there is no cure. promises are broken. love is a pain we throw away. hate is what we cling to. i haven't taken my meds in so long, i can't remember what it feels like anymore. my husband hates me, and i have no love for anyone anymore. no one except for my anger at the world. i love that, thrive on it, and right now am drinking it as it slides down my throat into the valley of hell that lives inside, deep inside my belly. if i didn't have kids right now, i wouldn't be here right now. razor blades and pills are too easy anymore. i'm looking death in the face, only this time, it's me i'm staring back at. the me they've all come to love in the last few years has died as i tried to make her come back. no one wants a used container, they want it new, without the damage, and he's no different. what they don't know is that i know what's going on--they all use me for and end to a means, and i like a volleyed ball in the court, take it with a smile. and really, it's death is see smiling back at me, with blood in their mouth, and poision dripping off the teeth. no make me smile as the medicine takes me away again, making me this creature that no one loves or loved. they never will, ever. and the only one to blame is me and my overused and over energetic brain. only it knows why i do what i do. and that makes what's left of a scared little girl that no one wants, very very very sad. hate is the machine, i just use it.

OT: the city is at war video--see it. funny. as. hell. damn you Gabe Saporta.

rounded value for a shitty saturday morning

i went to bed last night with 2 checks stolen. my mom had 9 stolen. my brother's ex girlfriend came up to our house this last weekend for christmas, and subsequently we had checks stolen.

now this bitch, and i use this term loosely, this bitch has stolen soooo many checks that she' been under threat to go to prison. my nephew is her son, and for all rights a purposes, i feel so fucking sorry for him, first her getting him addicted to meth in the womb, and then doing meth with him around, and then the bitch is still doing drugs! stealing checks! fucking runining his goddamned life!

mom is crying, tears of regret or ever helping anyone out, sliding down her cheeks to an empty world that doesn't give a fuck whether or not someone who you take care of has fucked you in more ways than i have ever imagined.

i hate that fucking whore. i will kill her in ways you can't even imagine.

in my mind, she's already dead.

dead as dead can be, the whore.

peter, the lonely boy far from home

i sit here and read your blog, wondering about the things you wonder about. dunno why, just seems like the thing for me to do. i know you have a lot of shit going on, and sometimes it feels like being alone would be better than anything, but you know man, people are never going to leave you alone. and i don't mean just for a day, a month a year, but they will never leave you alone, because you're Pete Wentz.

that's so fucking sad.

if i controlled the news and the news gathering organizations, i would tell them that you could have a reprieve. if i controlled the people who came up to you in the streets, i would make sure they didn't ask you for shit. if i controlled the people who were your friends, i would make sure they didn't leave your side for a minute. but most of all, if i controlled anything at all, that made any difference anywhere, then i would make it so you were happy with your life and the way you've turned out. totally and completely happy.

cause you're cool, a little, and for being a dirty little boy, you make me smile when you're happy, and you make me sad when you're not happy.

and i don't have a fucking clue why...no one else on the fucking planet has that kind of control over my emotions, except for my kids.

probably because like you, i wished all my life that i could be like peter pan and never grow up. i've been that way my whole life--just ask anyone.

anyway, nothing but love for you man, and please for the love of god, quit reading my shit, lol!

save your goddamn reciepts!! joe is the shit, and what to do when you have nothing to do

working at wal-mart as a CSM has made me become a fucking nazi about keeping your reciept. we have policies we have to enforce and people just do not get it. no, i will not let you return your air mattress for the 50th time just because it has a leak. call the motherfucking manufacturer or quit using the fuckers for sex play! no will not let you return the computer you bought 6 months ago, when our policy clearly states that you have 15 motherfucking-goddamn days.

asses.

on to other news, I love Joe Trohman almost as much as I love petey and patrick. he is like the coolest son of a bitch i have ever had the pleasure of reading. he has a way with words that make you feel special, although maybe it comes from the fact that he's fan himself. i dunno, all i do know is, is that i love him, want to hug him and rub his fro. /end

send your loved ones some fun christmas cards that are mostly hate mail. fuck em if they can't a joke.

have a good day peeps and pete, quit reading my shit, and i'll quit reading yours. ha!

keeping the peace, or how to disarm a nuclear weapon

i sit here at night and i wonder what's going on with the people that i love, that all they can do s fight with one another and be adults about it all. it used to be that i would be fucked up and doing it all right beside them, but then i grew the fuck up and now, i don't need to do all that anymore. the only thing that i can tell you is that there is no right in the world.

everyone wants a piece of you.

and me.

fuck em!

i see these people in the media that i care about, and don't listen to half the shit that's said about them, because i respect them, but sometimes you have to wonder why other people don't do the dame thing!

because they're fuckers, that's why.

and i hate each and every one of them for that.

check out the pretty that i made for me up top. i have an infatuation with this guy. i think it might be the way he screams. not sure though. i can't say he's the most beautiful man in the world, that would be lying, but he is the most beautiful man in the world to me.

scary that a guy who could give two shits about my exsistence means that much to me huh? you know why i love fall out boy. no pretenses.

they. are. just. that. cool.

long live the car crash hearts motherfuckers.

the sins of the day ebb away slowly while i ponder you

the basement is cold, but functional, better than being at work right now. people who go out into society should never think that they are entilted to be treated better than anyone else. slavery was abolished with the last drop of blood spilled, and i know that was very long ago.

animals crawl around in my mind, lurking there, waiting for the moment when it will be okay to come out and tear apart the world around me. it should be the meds talking now, but when you can't afford them, you try to talk down the monsters in your head, hoping for a minute of peace when you lay you head on that down pillow. pain wracks my brain daily, taming them as much as i can, which is so much harder than i have ever imagined.

i created this as a place that i could write down every fucking thing i can't say, just to have an outlet for those macrabe dreams that surround me when i'm awake. imagine seeing your life fall around you in seconds, all because someone said something defaming you, hurting the thick wall you've built around your heart, callousing all the parts that can die. imagine trying to fix damage done by no one but yourself, telling you to do things you know are wrong, but you don't figure out until after the fact, and the damage is so very badly done.

when i listen to music, it takes the pain away for awhile, bringing in a light that shines down to my soul. everyone should have something like that, a technicolor dream world that opens up when you know if it doesn't you'll die and everything that's made itself a part of you will too.

imagine being someone who doesn't know what it's like to be right ever--because his/her mind won't let them. gray is a world i don't know about. i only see in the harsh colors of black and white while you sit there in that brightly color life--looking down on me.

shut the fuck up, fucker, fuck you and fuck everything you believe in. i own myself, the world i live in, and i am no one to anyone.......not even to me.