Denial: Please Start With Your Name.

As I am packing my clothes to go to Utah, I find myself realizing just how defined I am by Jesse. I see him in everything: songs we've shared in times of sorrow, songs I've dedicated to him or us, gifts he's given me (this years gift was my bathing suit, though my birthday is still a few days away he bought it for me over a month ago), things I used to do with him (rearrange my room), episodes I'd save to watch with him (Whale Wars), photos (he is nearly 50% of my pictures on FB). . .

I have denied it all the time he's been ignoring me, assuming that eventually it would subdue but every corner I round I find myself deeper in sorrow. Even though I am angry at him for this isolation, unexplained at that, every word I send him is gentle, pleading. I thought I was beyond this, co-dependency is the last thing I need, and even though I know this could be my chance to turn my back and finally escape this relationship without it being me that ends it I find myself remembering him standing outside my window, pleading with me to forgive him. I know I need to change and it is very hard to do with him in my life as he is a back door into a life I am trying to leave, but everytime I think of leaving him I have anxiety. Anxiety which is very violent and vivid, unescapable even - it is very real as has been my denial.

My name is Amber Fennell and I am co-dependent on Jesse. I love him and would give my life for him. I also hate him for abandoning me with no explaination. I feel like a child wandering around a giant, foreign world trying to understand why my only guidance would hide from me. I know he cares, but I feel that the love he has for me is a needle point of the great quilt of love I have for him. So many great memories. . . So much history. . . Too much sadness, now. . .

Words Don't Seem to Be Enough.

I'm good with words. Words motivate me, they help with a bit of the edge and sometimes they even give me hope of things to come but they don't change anything. This notion is like a reel of film, an hour of blank footage with a note at the end: words can't change a thing, only you can. I like to think I can, change that is, but whenever confrontation comes to mind I just see myself dead. My counselor explained that people with BPD don't nessicarily have a death wish when they are "suicidal" that they rather have confrontation issues and the best permenant way to cope is through not existing. It is merely an irrational form of avoidance in many cases. I can see this, cause I don't want to die, and I never would really try to kill myself. But still to this day, when an issue dares to look me in the eye, my first thought is "death".

I feel like I am a constant passanger, climbing on and off of trains of motivation. Some days I get on a train and I can feel the wind in my hair, feel the energy pump through my frame as faith and strength are soaked through my skin like uv rays. Other days no train comes, and even more often are days when I get on a wrong train - one that drags me along slowly showing me all the things in my life that could have been worse and instead of bringing me a gasp of enthusiasm to change my life, it leaves me breathless. How selfish am I to be bitter towards life when I have it so well.

I keep thinking to myself, "No. I don't have a disorder, and if I do - it does not change who I am. I define who I am and I am the stronger one." But then that moment comes, when I have to prove I am the stronger one, the braver - and I can't seem to pry myself from bed. I am so scared that all I can do is behave like a child scared of the imaginary monster beneath her bed. So I'd hide under my covers, crying and wishing I would either wake up or my father would come in and scare the monster away. How childishly absurd and irrational fear can be.

An Emotional Mess.

I haven't written in awhile but not because nothing has happened but on the contrary... Today is an emotional mountain that I am struggling to climb. Just looking at the peak, I can't understand how it is I am supposed to make it there. It's like the vanishing point on the horizon, or the tiny pinhole of light at the end of a very dark tunnel. I'm the type of person who hides in the closet to cry, crying even in front of my family is hard for me. Unless I am sitting in a dark theatre, or in my own solitude, I try not to cry. Sometimes this even hurts, feeling the lump swell in my throat, burning to find an exit but being forced down from where it rose. I don't understand this irrational fear of showing my emotions, nor do I understand why I feel shame and disgust when I do cry, whether in private or public. All I know is I do, and the past two days, I've been crying uncontrollably.

Jackson died. I never mentioned this before but my best friend's cousin was hit by a truck driven by a 20 year old gentleman. Jackson was declared brain dead saturday and was taken off of life support on Sunday to return to his Heavenly Father. And all I could think of was how lucky he was, to know that he was sealed to his family and they would be together one day as a family again. How comforting that must be. It made me think of my brother and sister who also came to earth for bodies, but they never had the chance to touch the lifes of others like Jackson did. I never really even knew Jackson, but I believe pictures do have the ability to capture a fragment of the soul in time, and in every picture this five year old boy had an ear to ear grin. He loved life and all those around him were unable to be touched by his joy and love. The 20 year old gentleman was not speeding, under any influences, or anything, he just didn't see Jackson until he ran out from between two parked cars, directly in front of him. I feel the worst for him, because he will have to deal with that for the rest of his life. Even though it wasn't his fault, I can't even imagine what he must be going through, especially not knowing our eternal perspective. I can see my brother and sister in Jackson - their laughter and smiles - their enthusiasm to live and love and I wish I had known them. It's funny how you can love and miss something you never knew or had. Oh how I wish that I had an older brother to go to when times were rough, or a baby sister to teach the ways of life.

This morning didn't help matters as last night I dreamt of Jesse. He still isn't speaking to me, but in my dream he gave me a long tight hug and said he missed me too. It seems unfair that dreams are dreams, and they hold no weight in the soberness of conciousness. For the comfort I felt in my dream has fled, and I feel empty again. I hope it goes away soon.

Can't Ignore It. . . The Demon Wins.

I feel like I have a demon trapped inside of me, claws raking over my insides and I can feel the blood pooling inside - it's heavy and the pressure of it scares me. I feel like I am drowning in myself, there is nothing I can do to stop it. I'm trying so hard to ignore this demon but it's like trying to ignore a child screaming and trashing at your feet. I love him, I hate him, Why would he do this to me? Maybe he just needs space. No, I don't deserve to be treated this way. Maybe I did do something wrong. Ahhh!

My black and white mind can't decide if he is black or white, evil or good. It has been nearly an entire week since He has contacted me. I have FBed him, texted, called, left voice messages, even showed up at his house and he plays it like I am invisible. A part of me wants to scream and throw myself into walls as I am going crazy trying to figure out what I did wrong. However the other part of me has more sense, knows that I did nothing wrong and wonders if he just needs time but he wouldn't drag me through hell if he knew he was causing me pain would he? Well, he does know I am in pain so that's out. He is dragging me through hell and he knows it.

I sometimes wonder if I am just a toy for him to play with, drag around in the mud and watch as I scramble to forgive him for something I didn't do. He knows I have not the will or desire to leave his side and this allows for his inhuman ways to deal with his tantrums. A real person would tell the other person if they had issues, but he isn't man enough to confront me and tell it to my face. I am going crazy trying to figure out what I could have possibly done to upset him, I've apoligized time and time again and yet nothing. And during all this, I have not bad mouthed him, have tried to keep my cool, be nice, pretend like he isn't ignoring me but damnit! The demon is surfacing, the mask is shredded, these are the eyes of desperate rage and confusion.

I have not brought any of his friend's into this to try and figure out how I've wronged him but I can't stand what he is doing to me! It is cruel and it angers me that he has this power over me! I know, somewhere deep down inside, I would lay my life down for him and he has been there in my dark hours and I in his, but if he can stand to hurt me and know he is doing so than why do I stay with him? Why do I feel my internal demon scream and cry out in agony as it tries to escape from inside me to be with him? Because I love the bastard, and even though he only says so when he is filthy drunk - he loves me in some small way too. But sober, he can be a heartless, cold, inhuman son-of-a-b****. (But his mother is really nice actually.)

I'd almost be worried about posting this, actually I am a bit, but this is in raw how I am feeling right now. Betrayed, unloved, used. . . but no one I know personally reads this other than one or two who I am okay with knowing about this - otherwise, this is private. Please keep your readings to yourself.

A Stranger to Myself.

I swear I felt the jump of energy, the switch being turned on,
I can hear the hum of it,
but I can't make sense
of what it is that I am thinking.
My mind is finally signing on,
and still I can't break into it,
I can sense emotion building inside of me,
like the dam has been broken
or the flood gates opened,
and yet I am still asking questions.
I am a stranger to my own mind,
I am merely a rider of the roller coaster
that is often referred to as my emotional state,
it is like I have discovered a new color,
one not before found within the spectrum,
but how does one define the undefined?
It is hard to explore myself,
to even know and understand myself,
when I am confined to certain spaces within myself.
There are times in my life when I feel too much,
where I merely play the rag doll
being tossed about by the wrath of the sea,
and there are times in my life where I feel but can't comprehend,
can you imagine feeling pressure on your skin,
but never feeling the warm skin of a human caress?
And then there are the other times in my life where I feel empty,
like someone scooped out all my insides:
left me hollow, with no explaination as to why.
I know that I am feeling something,
I can feel the pressure inside,
but I can only make guesses as to why.
Perhaps it is my fear of being alone,
for here I sit in the dark trying to find solace,
or by chance it is my reluctancy to say good night,
for tomorrow is not today and today is finally okay.
I can't say for sure,
but I can admit outloud,
I am still a stranger,
even to myself.

---
With that the continuation of my promise to finish writing about these promptings:
Audrie, Memories, Sherri - Not enough me. Who I want to be, throw my head back and scream: I dont want to be the queen. Want grand things but grand things take more than one person. Birthday coming up. =C
Mind is finally signing on. Shutter Island - our sanity. Our brains are amazing coping mechanisms. Sherrys birthday. Mom stepping up. <3 Gut feeling of sorrow - shutter island. Empathetic.

Revelations: Old and New.

Last night I had a headache. . .This morning, I had the worst migrane I've had yet. I was in so much pain I was seeing doubles, and multiple times I nearly threw up because the pain was too much to handle. I climbed into the bathtub, still in my PJs, crying and turned on the shower. Hoping, praying the hot water would help somehow and it did, to an extent. The water seemed to melt the boundaries of my body. I could no longer feel where the water hit me and where I started. It was so enjoyable and yet, as soon as I moved out from the water, the throbbing drums and waves of nausea and pain were back. I slept nearly till 11 am, going to bed around 3 am and waking up at 7 am. At first, I was worried I would have to cancel again on Audrie, but I bit my tongue and prayed the migrane would be on it's way. And it worked! XD
Sherri is not in a good place. I want to help, but I am often at a loss of words. The things I say are dumb. This too will pass. Everyone has a little heart break in their lives. I'm sorry Love, it will get better, promise. How can I promise her things will get better? I can't ensure she will find a man who will honor, love and devout himself to her and her children and only them. So why do I fake hope? Surely, because I am her friend but I hate that shit when I am in her place. I suppose that is why I keep those kinds of things to myself. *Looks around* Who cares? Can anything you say help? No. Can you do anything to ease the pain? No one has yet. But me, I always feel responsible. I feel a need to find some way to ease the pain, to give her hope. I love to help, and I don't mind, but I hate how little control I have over this feeling, this demand for me to jump on a horse and ride to her rescue.

*Plops into bed* That last line reminds me of Greg (the most serious relationship I've had even though it was via internet, roleplaying and webcam). I miss him. Even though he was a candy-coated liar with fancy words, more intelligence than he knew what to do with, and a greedy, selfish man - I still miss him. And I worry and care about him, even to this very day. He always would jump on his horse and ride to the rescue of anyone whom needed him, that is actually how we met. *Buries her face into her hands* But Greg taught me, we can't save them all, just as I couldn't save him. Some don't even want to be saved. . . I do though. I need someone who needs me, someone who will ride to my rescue and I to his. A heart for a heart, a hand for a hand, a life for a life.

I wanted to go to her but I put myself first. I did the things I needed to do and then there was no time to see her. So I called instead and wished I hadn't. Sometimes, the things said in anger, are the things that hurt the most. I told her I was coming over the next day for her Birthday and her response was a sarcastic, "Surrreeee..." I have always been there for her, always. I may have forgot about an appointment or two or needed to cancel our hang out time to finish school work but I've always been there. So it hurts that she responded like that. I try to shake it off, but I'm still hurt. I try and I try, but will I ever be enough?

I put my battery in all by myself. I am so proud of myself and my father said he was too. I can't tell you how much my heart lept with joy when he said so. I don't think he knew I was capable or willing but my freedom means a lot to me. Especially now that I am pushing out the walls of my world to include the things I have only considered from a far and wanted to do but was too scared to do.

UGH. It is 2 am, and I need to be to Sherri's at 8 am, going to go now. But here is my list of things to continue writing about tomorrow. XD

Audrie, Memories, Sherri - Not enough me. Who I want to be, throw my head back and scream: I dont want to be the queen. Want grand things but grand things take more than one person. Birthday coming up. =C

Babies of War: A Dream.

I had a Gears of War Dream. . . >.>  <.<

Babies Of War
-----------------
She comes to me in weakness,
our emotions very much alike,
strong and prideful but desperately in need,
she comes to me and death follows in her stride.

Her skin is so much different,
they'd kill her if they found her here,
of all the people she could turn to,
of them all - she has choosen me,
I who am not of her kind or reflection,
I who am of her pursuer, her enemy, and her reason to die.

She comes to me in swolleness,
our stomaches much too big,
caring and devouted mothers we should've been,
But she comes to me in death just as my baby came to me.

I saw that fire in her eyes,
and I knew then that she choose correctly,
yes I would give her child my swollen breast,
and treat him or her as if they were mine,
no matter his or her skin difference,
no matter his or her kind.

She came to me in tears,
weeping for me to save her child,
she told me she would care for mine,
and somewhere on the other side,
I know she loves my still born child,
no matter his skin or kind.

She came to me in weakness,
our sorrows very much aligned,
strong and prideful but desperately in need,
she gave her child to me and death led her to mine.

The Tale of Sleep Deprivation

My mind is a record skipping here and there,
my stomach is on the hunt again
and jesse's licking my arm,
I am bored  but I am content,
cause he's sitting close to me,
growling and sniffing my shirt,
he's reading! he's reading!
He's calling me DUMB.

Dreams, Love and What not.

While You Slept.
------------------
I woke up this morning before you,
I thought about waking you up
but you were curved against me,
and when I moved, you moved.
Laying so close to you for so long
had seemed to melt us into one,
and I did not want to find the seams just yet,
no, not for a little while longer.
So instead I watched you sleep,
watched the way your whole body
tightened around my arm when
I held you closer.
Everything in these moments
are unconcious and instinctive,
you want me to be close,
you find comfort in my warmth,
just as I in conciousness desire you.
Your skin is warm under my fingertips,
my hands are the perfect size to cup your jaw,
run my thumb over your parted mouth,
but I refrain in fear it will shatter this moment,
instead I gently nuzzle my head against your chest,
and I listen to your heart throb against my ear,
as I breathe in sync with you.
The comfort I find here in your slumbering arms
is unlike any other comfort,
and I pray when you watch me sleep,
you feel the same way.
I feel myself dissolving,
being ripped from your warm arms,
I desire not to leave you,
but I am slowly becoming more aware
of my aching body.
The clock glares at me,
as if time were angry for my escape,
and as I sit up from my slumber,
alone in my bed,
I already know that today is going to be,
an empty day.

Everyone keeps rambling on and on about love and happiness and how they are so lucky to be loved. *Sighs* In the past 6 months, I have been invited to over 10 weddings, bridal showers and baby showers. I have had enough of all this blah, blah, blah. I need not to be reminded of how alone I am and how no one will love me, hell, I have my freaking dreams to remind me! I feel like the world's most unlucky girl. And yet, what hurts even more is knowing I am not ready to be loved. I want this so bad and yet I can't have it. Have never had it. I am the one who always does the chasing. I have never been courted. I have never been asked out by a guy - matter of fact, I've always asked the guy out! *Slouches over and covers her face with her hands* Sometimes, I even have to bribe my friends to hang out with me.

And the friends, newly acquired, Miss Jaclyn specially who want to hang out and go have a great time hiking or volunteering or what not - I can't see because I don't have the transportation, or money or support. I am finally ready to put my fears aside, to jump even if that means I have to face the emotions that will grasp me as I plumet towards the water. Cause I know once I hit the water and gravity finally catches me, that I will be okay and I will be glad that I took that leap of faith. But again, of course I can't.

I am the last wilted leaf clingling to a vine that endures the harsh rapping wind and ice of winter.

Progress, but is it Enough?

A constant thought that lingers like musk and never seems to be completely gone is, "I'm making Progress. . . But is it Enough?"

As I am in the shower thid morning (4 am) scrubbing my body I notice my toes need either a touch up with the purple nail polish I so passionately hate or a completely new polishing, however I remember that I haven't shaved my legs or plucked my eyebrows so I immediately decide it would be dumb to paint my toe nails. *Rereads and sighs* The next thought that comes to mind is, "I really need to change this, All or Nothing attitude!"

I am a Very positive person when it comes to anyone else - but when it comes to me things are Very Different. It is almost as if when I see other people I see vibrant, beautiful colors and just . . . energy, passion, brightness! - but when I look in any reflection of myself all I see is black in white: the things I hate and the things I love with no gray-in-between the two extremes. I realize that this causes alot of problems for me, but how does one quit something so unconcious as how they precieve life?

I guess my purpose now is to define the answer to that question.

Just brainstorming off the top of my head, I should list all the positive things that happen each day and how (if need be) I turned the day around or made it a good day. This should eventually cause me to think of the positive things that happened through-out each day rather than my instinctive negetive outlook. *Smiles* Yeah, that ought to do the trick. XD

So on a much more positive note: I have finally started volunteering.

I went just last night for my first time and volunteering downtown at the homeless shelter for children and helped out with a casual movie night. It felt great to be out of the house and even more so to be helping improve the days of those who are less fortunate than myself. I have also started a group on FB called, "The Children Come First", in which I will be posting up events that involve volunteering with children. XD I am very excited about this new development in my life.

I am trying very hard to improve myself each day and something I have been working on is doing things alone, and even though I knew that I would know at least one person at this volunteering event I went! And alone! I craved to call up Ashley and ask her to come with as she usually does to anything church related or just a good cause but I refrained as I need to build myself up and when I am with her I cling to her for dear life. *Sighs* It's going to be hard on me when she leaves for her mission. Hopefully by then I will have many more friends in the Singles Ward and they will keep me moving on the right path. XD.

I was also supposed to go hiking this morning. I had originally said I wasn't interested because the weather report and also the idea of "hiking". Haha. But Jaclyn (the same woman who has lovingly coaxed me into volunteering) being the wonderful person she is encouraged me to join them. She basically said she didn't care if I just came to take pictures and didn't hike much, that they would love my company. That made me melt inside, that someone wanted me there for my company and they didn't care if I slowed them down. I've always been so scared of coming in last, or not being good at things or dragging other people behind - but I forget that the people from church are so different. They are like family. *Wipes away tears*

Anyways, I really got psyched up about the hike - set everything aside, cleared off my memory card and charged my camera battery, got together my clothes and tennis shoes and even went to bed a bit early but when I woke I felt like someone had taken a crow bar to my body all while I was asleep. Eventually, around like 5 pm I started feeling better (of course this was after phentermine and 4 vicodins) and even motivated to clean and so I did. Cleaned the kitchen and washed my laundry and later went over to Sherri's with Jesse and played Hand and Foot. This was the highlight of today. Afterwards me and Sherri talked, really talked.

Sherri is a wonderful woman, who is currently filing for a divorce and has five children but only has two living with her, and when I talk to her I feel like she actually listens. She hears me and she doesn't judge. She gives me feedback and reacts to what I am saying and I am not self-concious to tell her the truth. She takes all of me and loves it. Very few am I able to open up to like that.

Ashley recently brought to my attention that I need to get my butt back to church - I know she is right, I feel it in every fiber of my being but I also feel dread. I should know by now that the things I am worried others will think are my projections of what I feel and think. She's back, again. Wonder how long this time before she falls away? She isn't worthy to be here. . . is she even trying? Is she LDS? Does she have a testimony? Just writing them seems dumb as I see the faces of my beloved church family appear in my mind's eye. It's easy to see, here and now, that they are my own fears and harsh judgements on myself that are finding a way to surface. Which comes back around to, "I am making Progress. . . But is it Enough?"

It's hard to believe I will ever be ready to be in a relationship let alone married. I have so, so so so much baggage. I am constantly working on myself and yet I am never anywhere close to done. I suppose most are thinking, "Well yeah, duh, it's called 'Life'!" But there is a difference. I struggle everyday to be content with being alone, to control this newly founded anger, to not scream and cry when I am frusterated, to not have panic attacks, to not slip into old self-destructive patterns. . . The list goes on and on and on. *Sighs* I think I am just ranting right now. When I started this post I had a clear outline of what was to be said but I've been writing for over an hour now and things are no longer straight in my head. all that is left is feelings.

Mom is going through something and - "I of all people should be understanding of that", as my father had put it. She chose the baby over me, again and again, I felt replaced. She loves that child that is not hers so much but she isn't me and she isn't hers. She told me we would spend time together, all three of us (her, the baby and me) but instead she was at a play date all day and when she got home she was angry with me - because I was angry at her for lying to me and making me wait all day for her to spend some time with me but instead she stayed out all day with the baby. She is so blind! She doesn't seem to see how I crumble when she looks at that child, how much I want her affection like that.

When that baby is around she wants to go out and do things and be somewhere, just like when her mother was alive. But when it comes to me and even my sister, she rarely has the time or "will power" to overcome the pain of her body. She always says she will come, but rarely does. Dad is the responsible one, always picking up her slack and comforting her. I should be more understanding and in some ways I am angry at myself for not being more kind, more gentle, more loving towards my own mother but in other ways I am angry at her for not seeing through me. I am her child, I love her and I need her to love me, to be strong for me, to show me that she cares and is there for me.

I understand the circumstances that existed when I was growing up, I do not blame her for the things I am enduring now because of my upbringing - but if she continues to remain distant and aloof to me and my sister, does that makes her a bad mother? It seems almost as if she loves my grandmother more than me. She loves the baby more than me. She loves her family more than my father. . .

"I am making Progress. . . But is it Enough?"

Will I Ever have a good, strong relationship with my mother? With my sister? With my father?

I was born from a strong root but born on a withering branch of that tree, and as a leaf I merely knew my family from a distance, as I said my goodbyes and drifted into the breeze alone. The things I have ednured and the things I will endure shade me a beautiful emerald green but they leave my edges wilted and sore and I fear I shall shrivel and dry up without ever seeing my family reunite.

Today Was Better. XD

You can always tell when I have a great day because I overuse the XD smiley. XD <--- See, I just auto type it. XD Haha. Does get annoying though. I don't think anyone has been reading my blog but if someone is, Sorry for being so cryptic with my writing. It is not intended to be so, but some of the things I write need to be said, or written I guess I should say, for my sanity and records and here and now is the place. However, I wish not to offend or point fingers, so it comes out. . . well, cryptic. XD So, if you are reading this - I am working on that.

Today was a nice day with my mom for the most part. We went to the mall, more like ran through it  with purpose and a time limit, and got me some more pants and bras. I have some personal issues with letting things go. Jess says I'm a lot like a hoarder and I can't disagree with him. I have baskets of clothes, but a lot of them don't fit right, have to be worn with an overshirt, or need sewed or are ripped beyond saving - but I don't want to get rid of any of them. They are all I have. I think that says a lot about me. It's not nessicary something I want anyone to know either but it is a very huge piece of me, and there is no blame, no pointing fingers, it just is.

I keep a mental journal, but I never get around to recording the things in my head. Here lately I've been typing them up in my phone. Today's was: Sometimes I feel like the filler. I am not the "company", I am merely the person, the last resort, who fills in the time in between whatever activity the person I am hanging out with is doing. Sometimes, I am the filler with the ability to do the tasks the person I am hanging out with doesn't want to do. And that hurts my feelings. What is worse, is when there are many people in your life who does this. Then I begin to question, "Is my company enough? Will anyone want to spend time with me and cherish every moment like it is a breathe of fresh air to dying lungs?" I cherish so many moments in my life, to such an extent that I can't put them into words. . . I would die for a stranger, I would die for anyone of my friends. . . I love so much that I love to love - but will anyone ever Love me that much?

My mother always used to say that I have a big heart because I have so much love inside of me. I know this is true. And sometimes it doesn't seem fair. I give and I give and sometimes I am enough but most of the time I am not. Something I struggle with is that fact. That I won't always be enough. I have grand intentions, so grande, so novel and vivid, so spontaneous but they never come to life - they live in the "intentions" realm: the I shoulda, coulda, but didn't junk yard. That breaks my heart. I have yet to realize that the small things, are the things that count, and I am starting to work on that.

This wednesday will be my first offical volunteering day and I am so excited. I've always wanted to volunteer but have been scared to for countless lame reasons. But the here and now has come and good works shall be done.

Just. . . Grrr!

Today was a very stressful day for unknown reasons. I have felt crowded, used and yet alone. There were times throughout the day when I could feel situations turn a key and tighten the strings of my composure to see if my wire would snap. I could feel how tight the wires were, and any strum of those strings surely would be out of tune and surely snap each string. I feel changes inside of me. Its like my inside are rewriting themselves. I never used to be angry, I always had control of my words, any random fit I wanted to throw but now, things are changing. I am becoming angry and the anger is not of the fleeting sort, it is the simmering kind that sits on the back burner, constantly bubbling up in my life. It is a ferocious anger, like a starved canine, trained to become a carnibal for its own survival. The anger is changing me.


Other than the constant anger there is the feeling that keeps coming up: unhappy and uncontent, whichever it is. I have done things today, played video games, got up at 10, ate, talked with my father, wrestled with him, went to the mall, ate, taught my mom and dad how to play Gears of War, watched Drop Dead Diva and yet I feel like I had a bad day. I haven’t though, so why do I feel like this? I have been thinking about this all day and I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to make a list everyday and accomplish it and I also need, need-need-need, to get back into routines. I need to get up early and get dressed everyday to feel happier and ready for life, whether I have something to do or not.