Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I haven't eaten yet. I almost forgot b/c I started the day with two cigarettes and it made my appetite recede. I'm back on the smoking wagon, once more. I'm just not an okay person when I'm trying to quit. I'm agitated, I'm jumpy and nervous as hell. Everything feels wrong. I thought maybe I could replace nicotine w/sex, but being with Superthug only makes me even more confused and after him I sometimes need a cigarette just to calm down. Plus I keep having these dreams about my grandma and I can't help but miss her even more. It's been a month since she passed. I don't really know how to feel about that. Scared, really. B/c what happens at Thanksgiving, and Christmas when she is not at the table with us, or sitting around watching us open gifts? Whose warm body will I press against for comfort once my my mother's nags about my life finally begin to get to me? What happens as time passes and she continues to not be there? I could smoke a whole pack and still be fucked up by that one. I could fuck all day, I could get drunk. It doesn't numb the sorrow of her loss. I don't know. Time passes strangley these days. The weather chills and so does my heart b/c everything seems so hollow. My mind wanders. And tonight I will go home and watch "Garden State" and pretend that I'm not jealous of everyone in it for having a life when I don't. I need to quit smoking and stick to it. I need to stop fucking around with Superthug so he can stop fucking around with me. I need to eat more than one meal a day, and I need that meal to be an actual meal, not just and order of fries, or a bowl of fruit. I have lost 7lbs since my grandmother passed. I'm not excited. I want her back. I want to hug her, and nestle under her while she reads her bible. I want to paint her nails like she always had me do after I got in her polish to do mine. I want to hear her laugh, see her smile. I want her to be there when I finally pick up the pieces of my broken life and do something good for myself. Soemtimes being alive is the hardest thing we have to do.... sometimes being alive drains us more than anything else. You live to die in this world. This life is only here so you can choose your poison. There are few bright spots and blessings in the bleak reality of today. There are few friends, few true loves... few happy periods. I am wallowing beneath it all... reminiscing on it all. And sometimes I can't wake up until noon, and even then I'll refuse to get out of the bed. And soemtimes I won't eat, b/c food is not what I'm starving for... and sometimes I'll lie to you, b/c I think the truth is more full of shit than anything else. And sometimes I'll sleep with my date on the first night out and he'll never call me again. And sometimes I won't do anything... sometimes I'll do everything and it'll all be wrong. But sometimes... sometimes it turns out all right... and if not, I'm trying.

END

it's hard for me to remember a time when time didn't pass strangely in some way, now that i've gotten in so deep (like i had a choice).... it's all the most pointless, priceless vignette imaginable.... makes no sense whatsoever-- on that we can rely.... which is to say, yeah, it can really be like this, I suppose....