long story short

wild.

absolutely wild.

i'm about to turn twenty-four in eleven days and my twenty-third year has been the single craziest year of my existence. well, every year gets madder, more unpredictable, somewhat worse from an objective viewpoint. sometimes i'm not even sure it's real. i keep expecting i'll wake up one morning and wooooo it'll all be a really bad dream-- like i've had one too many drinks, popped a stray pill, went on a crazy trip, i don't know-- but it isn't. time has proven that. over and over again. it's all been too real. i want to say it's life, but it's not. it's me. i've always been losing it. now it just affects my life in more obvious ways.

this is what i've been doing.

i go to work in the evenings, some nights. i go to therapy in the mornings, some days. i spend my afternoons reading, journaling, writing music, cuddling with my teddy bears, and recently, watching breaking bad. (i've never seen it before. the violence doesn't do it for me but the philosophical questions it generates excite my brain to no end.) sometimes i stay awake for days, staring out blankly and wondering if i'll ever go through with the suicidal thoughts that flash through my skull. sometimes i sleep all day and can barely get out of bed long enough to brush my teeth. some weeks i eat too much, some weeks i don't eat much at all.

every once in a while, i put my phone on airplane mode so i don't have to talk to anyone. i remember wanting people to talk to for a long time but lately, i just want to be left alone. like, who cares? i have a few people i talk to regularly but mostly, i'm past it.

i have a new boyfriend (or as he would say, manfriend); i call him wolfy because he is. he bites, nibbles, growls. endlessly kinetic and marvelously wise. i don't spend a lot of time with him because he's a busy, busy man, but when i do it's beyond wonderful. more importantly, he's wonderful. he's also 26 years older than me. i wonder how long this will last... hopefully a long time, however foolish that may sound to people. i have a separate boy who's in love with me. (no shortage of those, oddly enough, no matter how hideous i think i am, or how horrible i tell them i am. there's a couple. it's weird.) he's also nice. a cross between a best friend, former lover, and gap filler for the free time in my days. we mostly just get groceries together, play basketball, shoot the shit. there are nights when i miss my wolf and wonder if i should just date this other guy out of convenience (not unlike my first boyfriend). but i wouldn't. it's too easy.

sometimes i look at old posts here and i think to myself, oh wow, i should've probably gotten help for x y or z back then, but haha, i didn't and look at how far i've fallen! it's pretty horrendous. i've slowly watched my mental health grow increasingly worse. i've stood at the edge of the abyss and gazed into my own soul. (dramatic, ain't it.) i still read poetry. i fell in love with a musical, notre dame de paris. i broke a few hearts, even while trying to be gentle with them. hey, you know, i became more honest with people because of this blog. i found out being one hundred percent honest doesn't work as well in real life as it does here. a lot of people like being lied to.

i'll probably be writing here (sporadically or not) until i'm twentyfive flat. maybe twentyseven. maybe even after that. we'll see.

life, hm? the more it seems to change, the more it stays the same. funny. not so funny. has anything really changed here, though? same script, just a different cast.

i feel like i've been spinning in circles, doing donuts and leaving skid marks on the asphalt of a parking lot for the past few years. but even if i was doing great, i don't know if i'd feel like i was making progress. i don't know what i want.

maybe that's the truest thing i've ever said here.

honestly.