Babble

Work full time, school part time, it's slaying me. I don't ever want to wake up anymore. Do I dream? Sometimes. There's always a tragedy. Last night I dreamt I had wings, pretty wings, and I could fly, but there was this building that was going to be blown up and I had to help save the people in there, the ones who wouldn't leave. There were others who had wings, and they were helping me.

I know I'm dreaming because I can't feel anything from the people around me. IRL I can always feel the people around me. I know that I'm not alone, I'm never alone. But in my dreams, they are cardboard. Puppets.

I wouldn't trade the empathy for anything.

I breathe. Do I breathe? I breathe. Do I breathe?

I sold my soul back to that voice in my head. I haven't been able to write, now that I'm happy. I needed something to help me. Sold my soul, but just for the price of my time, not my blood. It's nice not being the only thing in my head anymore. I missed that.

It's not like Kaida likes to be disturbed.

Was it okay? I miss writing. I've got a plan, though. Spend time in the cemetery and write. I feel like I belong there, it's mine. It's mine.

Got to leave for work in five minutes, haven't done anything to get ready. Sometimes I just don't care. I'm so stressed out, so many things I have to do. It really kills me, being stretched so thin. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so helpless in the face of all that I must do.

Aodhan doesn't feel he has to help.

There in theory, not practice, which doesn't do a hell of a lot for me. Last night he said that I just had to ask and he'd help me with the dishes. A few minutes later, I asked. "Do you need to do that right now? Right this second?" Well, no, I don't need to do anything at all right at any second, I could just sit in the corner and do nothing. But I'm trying not to put shit off anymore.

I did it myself.

He didn't remember, which is fine. I never feel like I'm good enough for him. I confess, I don't feel like he's good enough for me, sometimes. I feel so much older than him, even though he's two years older than me. He's still such a little boy. I know it'll change, but will he still need me, then? Will he change so much he outgrows me?

The thought doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

Sex. It's nice having our own place now. Good things happen, if you catch my drift. But...not what I need. I need pain, just pain, not love, sometimes. Just pain and anger and darkness and humiliation. I'm a freak. But I'm going to die without that.

Empty with a touch of whipped cream.

Blah. I talk and talk and whine and whine. I don't have too much to complain about. Just enough that there is something to say.

I sold my soul again. Is it bad that I like it?