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Reflection from March 22nd, 2013 @ Age 31

RE:  WADING THROUGH THE LITANY OF DISTRACTION SO AS TO FIND, THE ***POINT*** ;0)

Thank god it’s Friday.  To recap, I was manic this week, decided it was possible that I could woo Eminem with my wonderful writing skillz and we’d live in love forevermore, and then also that I had to get this “Adelshine Series” all up and running right away real SUPER QUICK so that President Obama could catch it in time for mental health month May 2013.  Sighhhh.  I just don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.  Makes me feel like such a fool.

I’ve felt really sad today.  I was very angry yesterday, mostly at Adam and people like him and his mom, but all the same, just kind of the evil side of humanity in general.  The side where people ignore the other side that is full of suffering human beings.  I don’t know, not a whole lot to say on that one for fear of getting myself all upset.

I feel lonely.  I feel like I have no friends.  I feel like doing nothing.  I feel like nonexisting.  I feel like crying.  And lastly, I feel like my writing is horrible.  I know I say that sometimes, and a lot of times it turns out to be really beautiful instead.  But I’m pretty sure this time is not like the rest. 

I can’t tell you how much money I spent in the last two weeks.  An exorbitant amount.  Let’s see, just from Anthropologie, a $40 sweatshirt and a $300 dress (that I have nowhere to wear it to…right now anyways).  The worst though was TJ Maxx, which I’ll get to, but lest we forget DSW—my Badgley Mischka work-like pumps (around $79) and my House of Harlow peep toe sling backs (just about $55…yep!).  They’re both beautiful, both pairs!  And then ohh god, TJ Maxx.  Let’s see…

I got a Nanette Lepore purple blazer ($179) and matching (fabric and buttons) black pencil skirt ($80) that both just have the most beautiful detailing and cut I’ve ever seen.  Just immaculate design (compared to all the other stuff I have, for the most part, well…other than the other designer items I already own).  And I don’t know, a James & Elizabeth white linen button up ($99) and same brand—a silk flowy blouse-like casual shirt, if that’s a possible combination ($80—on clearance!!).  Then also, a Rebecca Minkoff burlap bag fabric peach short dress with the pockets (around $99 I think), the Rebecca Taylor green leopard print blousey tunic thing that I’d wanted so badly ($80…yeah, on cleeaarannce!!), ohh another top from Anthro, this red I-don’t-even-know-how-you’d-describe-it but-it’s-absolutely-beautiful top!  ($80)  Ohh and a pair of pale yellow Sam Something-son wedges with the cutest cut heal I’ve ever seen on an espadrilles!  ($40)  God, it’s a lot of shit!  What else?  Anyways, I don’t know.  But I do know it all made me feel much better.  And I want to keep it all.  But I’d understand if I had to return some stuff, and I’m pretty sure I’d be okay with that.  I mean, I wouldn’t be happy about it given the circumstances wherein I got supremely FUCKED over by Adam, but you know…  Whatever I guess.

So I totally forgot about this cookie dough that Rach brought me when I was feeling kinda down a few weeks back—I totally forgot I mean, that I’d put it in the back of the fridge drawer so nobody (i.e. Dad) would eat it.  And then I remembered it and ate it just now and I’m hoping I don’t get sick.  I mean it was like three weeks old, but I know for a fact, that there were no eggs in there.  She likes to make vegan things so Bryce will eat them.  He’s so particular, reminds me of someone else I know.

Also reminds me of when people call other people like Bryce and I difficult.  They say that we are difficult people.  But I don’t understand why we’re the difficult ones.  I mean yes, we are particular.  But honestly, what’s so goddamn fucking wrong about that?!  I really, I mean I really would like to know.  Why do you have to be so difficult?  Why can’t you be like everyone else?  Why can’t you just blend in like everyone else?  I don’t know, I just don’t want to.  But why is that so bad?

Why does every fucking thing have to be easy for these lazy ass fucking self-centered, ignorant, ASSHOLES of Americans?  Why must they have everything right at their fucking fingertips at the very fucking second they need it?  I don’t know, I’m just angry is all; I’m very, very very much so, EXTREMELY angry at the world right now. 

Adam filed a subpoena today.  I don’t really know what that means.  Maybe I should cause I’m a lawyer—but I don’t, so fuck you.  Now that I’ve been trying to share my writing more, I know that’s a line I’ll wish later that I’d never witten.  But hopefully not.  By the time I get around to reading today’s entry, hopefully I’ll be over that little “should” routine again (for like, the millionth time).  I just feel so tired.  I just wish the “command” key on this Mac was in the place where it is on the PCs, is all.  Well that and few other things, but that’s the easiest to describe.  Hah ;0)

I saw a new doctor yesterday.  I cried the whole way home too.  It’s cause I was so relieved to actually hear a doctor say, “I can help you.”  He took blood work to check my serotonin levels and dopamine levels and other ones too.  And then also, he took genetic testing from swabbing the inside of my gum to check out the levels of my enzymes, what’s going on in my liver and all.  So that was all very exciting because I was also able to get it all done right there, no waiting or nuthin’.  Well, I had to wait an hour to see the doc, but if he can help, then who cares.

Anyways, I think I mentioned earlier perhaps that Adam filed a subpoena today.  My attorney seems to think it will be to Paul regarding my decrease in income as of January 1st of this year.  So that should be interesting.  We’ll see.  I’m so over this stupid divorce by now.  It’s such a fucking drag I can’t even begin to explain to you.

I try to not think negative thoughts, but it’s so hard sometimes.  I try not to think about the fact that I’m almost 32 years old, living with my parents, getting a divorce (i.e. no boyfriend, fiancé, husband or babies anywhere in the near future).  The fact that I have no friends, I try not to think about that.  The fact that my life feels like an entire waste unless I do something really important to help save this world so very much curtailing towards evil every second that I sit here typing.  I try not to think about my fear that I promoted evil, albeit from within my naïve vulnerability, but nonetheless—kept an evil spirit alive in this world, one more alive that was supposed to be dead.  What if I did that and screwed up the whole fucking balance of good and evil in this world?  I mean really, what if?!  It frightens me a little.  I don’t know, it just makes me feel really fucking bad.  I feel so used.  I feel betrayed, but I think the worse of the two is feeling so used.  I feel used up.

I mean, I know that I’m not.  I know this is all in my head and that I have so much more to give and that my life has lots of meaning blah, blah, blah.  But what good is knowing in my head when I cannot feel in my heart?  Or when I am feeling in my heart and the feeling does not match what’s going on in my head.  I mean, I guess that’s one of the problems that all people have—not just bipolars, so…I don’t know where I was going with that.

I just feel deflated and used up and sad and lonely, and people are tired of it and they are tired of me.  And while they might not say that to your face, you can see it in their eyes and hear it in their nonchalant, passive-aggressive pleas to talk about something else, anything else but about mental illness or the divorce.  Come to think of it, I myself am pretty sick of talking about mental illness, and also the divorce too.  It’s just hard to stop it though, when even if I’m tired about it—the pain from neither has yet found a way to escape me.  Or I have not found a manner by which to exorcise it.  Yet.  And on that final note, I would like to leave you in parting with this message:

The command key is in a very inconvenient spot for me on this Mac Book Pro, and so I hate using it which should tell you (and if it doesn’t, then I am…), that I really do mean every emphasis on every italicized word.  I mean it with all my heart I do.  And here comes violence on the fucking TV downstairs.  I really do wish I lived by myself sometimes, in a peaceful quiet house in the woods where I could listen to the birds all day long and not hear a goddamn voice from another human being or the fucking television for like 800 days.  Well no, not the people for that long, but definitely the TV.  I hate the TV.  And that’s exactly what I’ll tell the judge too, when I’m explaining why I had to purchase these $300 Bose noise-cancellation headphones.  Hah!  God help me.  Really though, I mean, please.