(no subject)
If anyone hears from or sees Jacob, can you please remind him he is in a lot of trouble and it is not in his best interest o talk to me. After forgetting my birthday, our anniversary and Christmas without so much as an apology, he is now deliberately not reading my letters and avoiding a question I asked him directly.
I’m at crisis point. I was at this place right before my stroke, realizing it was hopeless, I would never pay off my bills or get published. Now I realize I can never come home, and there’s not much reason to. I miss my friends, but no one needs me any more. Unless a miracle happens and I can drive, I can never live on my own. I’m frightened. I’m trapped in this desert prison, no way to escape. No reason to either. My attempts to replace Jake seem futile. I’m not real, I have nothing to offer any more. Loneliness is wearing away what’s left of me and desperation is destroying happiness.
Mom slammed her hand in a car door today and everyone’s mad. I think it’s my fault because she was watching me. It’s all my fault, everything. Mephy’s not doing so well, she moans in her sleep and her fur is greasy. I’m scared my cat will die then it will be true no one loves me. And I’m still stuck here forever. I have three cards I don’t want to play. I have three favores I can call in. But the cost of this hand is my soul. I keep hoping Christine will be lonely on her own and want me back, but that’s terrible to wish for, I’d sooner sell my soul. On the other hand, I’m free. I could move anywhere I want. I can be a writer anywhere in the world, I should stay here as long as possible, but I miss friends, Denny’s, being able to sit quietly and not get harassed about it. Eat when I want, sleep in, stay up to write. Get hugged. It’s been a year since anyone hugged me. This is hell. I feel like screaming “Why won’t anyone touch me?” Or buy me flowers. Jake owes me flowers and a cruise to Hawaii. Guess I’m out of luck, as always. I’m buying me another velvet dragon dress for my next lonely Christmas. Great, I’ll get petted again. Have any of you petted a total stranger because they look fuzzy? Some idiot in Wal-Mart played with my curls again. Do they have to yell “boing?” Well if Jake’s out of my life, I can shave my head again, it’s not like I look better with hair.
I’m at crisis point. I was at this place right before my stroke, realizing it was hopeless, I would never pay off my bills or get published. Now I realize I can never come home, and there’s not much reason to. I miss my friends, but no one needs me any more. Unless a miracle happens and I can drive, I can never live on my own. I’m frightened. I’m trapped in this desert prison, no way to escape. No reason to either. My attempts to replace Jake seem futile. I’m not real, I have nothing to offer any more. Loneliness is wearing away what’s left of me and desperation is destroying happiness.
Mom slammed her hand in a car door today and everyone’s mad. I think it’s my fault because she was watching me. It’s all my fault, everything. Mephy’s not doing so well, she moans in her sleep and her fur is greasy. I’m scared my cat will die then it will be true no one loves me. And I’m still stuck here forever. I have three cards I don’t want to play. I have three favores I can call in. But the cost of this hand is my soul. I keep hoping Christine will be lonely on her own and want me back, but that’s terrible to wish for, I’d sooner sell my soul. On the other hand, I’m free. I could move anywhere I want. I can be a writer anywhere in the world, I should stay here as long as possible, but I miss friends, Denny’s, being able to sit quietly and not get harassed about it. Eat when I want, sleep in, stay up to write. Get hugged. It’s been a year since anyone hugged me. This is hell. I feel like screaming “Why won’t anyone touch me?” Or buy me flowers. Jake owes me flowers and a cruise to Hawaii. Guess I’m out of luck, as always. I’m buying me another velvet dragon dress for my next lonely Christmas. Great, I’ll get petted again. Have any of you petted a total stranger because they look fuzzy? Some idiot in Wal-Mart played with my curls again. Do they have to yell “boing?” Well if Jake’s out of my life, I can shave my head again, it’s not like I look better with hair.