it's so strange... for lack of a better word... how fast things can change. how your whole life can open up into something you've never expected, yet always hoped for. i finally belong. HELLO, WORLD.
anyway, this is all i've gotta say: (yeah its a song that i found some deeper meaning in. if anybody in this world can figure this out *besides the guys and gals that know whats up right now* we belong togetherrrr :P)
hey yeah we had everything, vinyl and mono
and we looked the other way, man we were so dumb
is this the part in the book that you wrote where i've gotta come and save the day?
did you miss me? did you miss me?
well they say that rock is dead and they're probably right
99 girls in the pit, did it have to come this this?
oh god you owe me one more song
so i can prove to you that i'm so much better than him
oh god please listen fast
here comes the crash
we're gonna rise above
we've gotta smash it up
you won't abandon us again
give us brilliant boys that we wanna fuck
full of ecstasy, hard drugs and bad luck
yeah, yeah, yeah
turn the lights back on
you burn so hard but you won't burn long
three chords in your pocket tonight
are you, you the one
with the spark to bring my punk rock back?
oh God i wanna hear you say i wanna hear you say that you're sorry again
oh God, i'd give you anything
to hear you say that i was right and you were wrong
oh God, before i leave this life
now an eightball isn’t love
the hooker’s never gonna cum
just give it back to me
blow out all of the lights tonight
two million miles down the PCH and now he's gone
i slashed his tires, i bled his brakes
it had to be done
their hand-job lies were just too cruel
yeah mercy was done
we drowned them all in their swimming pools
run away, run away, run away
peace in the middle east.
xo s
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
happiest yet.
that's right!
okay so let's see.. since i last posted, ummm a lot has went down. max and i broke up and got back together and broke up again and, as of yesterday, got back together. this time forreal. although i lost my engagement ring (fuck you vodka, fuck you brain), i didn't lose him, and i never will again. shit got real. shit is changing.
so let's start with last weekend. i spent the night at maha's, and a lot of fucked up shit happened, but the only thing worth mentioning is that max and i broke up. then we got back together the next day. and the day after that, maha and i decided to hang out again, and i ended up walking her home at around midnight. that pissed max off, and i understand why, but that led to us breaking up again. i know he's gotten OD overprotective ever since i got sexually assaulted by guys from walking home late at night, but still. i couldn't ever let maha walk alone. anyway.. then we got back together. just writing about this is making me 'LOL'. so about an hour after we reconciled, i ended up drinking about a liter of vodka with maha. we got so trashed we didn't know how to walk down my block. thinking back, i have no idea what compelled us to do something like that. i NEVER drink (anymore). liquor is like xanax to me, i regret everything that happens afterwards, and only if i can even remember what i did/what happened. all i remember is meeting with alex and ashley, the twins from oh-so-long ago. alex fussed over me a bit, the whole "oh my god it's been so long you look so good what have you been up to i missed you" thing. then she proceeded to tell me that ali (abusive ex) is in rikers for 6 months. i'm pretty sure i did ask her why, but i don't remember her response. anyway, maha and i decided to go to dunkin donuts to get our daily fix, and max showed up right there. oh yeah, because we were on the phone and he asked me where i was and i asked him to meet us there. so... after introducing him to alex and ashley, and after i ordered maha and i our delicious coffee, max steered the both of us back to my house. at this point i was bugging out because my dad called maha and i earlier to ask us why we drank all the vodka, and all i remember is screaming that i didn't and hanging up on him. when we finally got to my house, all hell broke loose. all i remember is running away, about 6 times. and then somehow i was under a car with maha trying to pull me out. we sat in between two cars, talking and crying and chain smoking. she was also on the phone with max, for like half an hour. i don't know what was going on but she convinced me to go back home. so i walked her to the bus, waited for it, and then set her to go. the next morning, my whole right leg was one giant black and blue, from shin to mid-thigh. i had a lump the size of a 6 month old pregnant stomach above my eye, and that was also a nasty shade of blue. oh, and apparently i dropped lit cigarettes down my shirt throughout the night, so i was also covered in burns. this is why i never drink.
i went to therapy yesterday, for an emergency appointment. i just couldn't wait for thursday. dr royce prescribed me klonopin for my anxiety, which has reached the point of insanity. i can't keep still or calm enough to do anything, and even sitting on her couch, i had the urge to run run run run run. after filling my prescription, i met up with max, and took half a tab, since she told me half will be okay enough, since i'm 90lbs. it worked like magic. i felt so calm and clear-headed and social and it was just incredible. i didn't expect it to affect me in that way, considering all the xanax prescriptions i've had that totally killed my memory and made me want to kill everybody. so i'm really grateful for that klonopin. except today i took it again and it didn't do anything. so i took a whole tab instead of half, and still nothing. i just got off the phone with dr royce, and she said to come pick up another script tomorrow, for a stronger dosage, or just more of the same. she said i should take 3 a day, if i want to take it regularly, or i can take it whenever the anxiety hits. i prefer to take it regularly. i don't want to be a pill popper. been there, done that, over it.
now i need a cigarette. i'll keep writing. no, really this time. i will.
everything is working out, everything is fucking great. i will keep writing.
maybe not today, but more often now.
xo sasha
okay so let's see.. since i last posted, ummm a lot has went down. max and i broke up and got back together and broke up again and, as of yesterday, got back together. this time forreal. although i lost my engagement ring (fuck you vodka, fuck you brain), i didn't lose him, and i never will again. shit got real. shit is changing.
so let's start with last weekend. i spent the night at maha's, and a lot of fucked up shit happened, but the only thing worth mentioning is that max and i broke up. then we got back together the next day. and the day after that, maha and i decided to hang out again, and i ended up walking her home at around midnight. that pissed max off, and i understand why, but that led to us breaking up again. i know he's gotten OD overprotective ever since i got sexually assaulted by guys from walking home late at night, but still. i couldn't ever let maha walk alone. anyway.. then we got back together. just writing about this is making me 'LOL'. so about an hour after we reconciled, i ended up drinking about a liter of vodka with maha. we got so trashed we didn't know how to walk down my block. thinking back, i have no idea what compelled us to do something like that. i NEVER drink (anymore). liquor is like xanax to me, i regret everything that happens afterwards, and only if i can even remember what i did/what happened. all i remember is meeting with alex and ashley, the twins from oh-so-long ago. alex fussed over me a bit, the whole "oh my god it's been so long you look so good what have you been up to i missed you" thing. then she proceeded to tell me that ali (abusive ex) is in rikers for 6 months. i'm pretty sure i did ask her why, but i don't remember her response. anyway, maha and i decided to go to dunkin donuts to get our daily fix, and max showed up right there. oh yeah, because we were on the phone and he asked me where i was and i asked him to meet us there. so... after introducing him to alex and ashley, and after i ordered maha and i our delicious coffee, max steered the both of us back to my house. at this point i was bugging out because my dad called maha and i earlier to ask us why we drank all the vodka, and all i remember is screaming that i didn't and hanging up on him. when we finally got to my house, all hell broke loose. all i remember is running away, about 6 times. and then somehow i was under a car with maha trying to pull me out. we sat in between two cars, talking and crying and chain smoking. she was also on the phone with max, for like half an hour. i don't know what was going on but she convinced me to go back home. so i walked her to the bus, waited for it, and then set her to go. the next morning, my whole right leg was one giant black and blue, from shin to mid-thigh. i had a lump the size of a 6 month old pregnant stomach above my eye, and that was also a nasty shade of blue. oh, and apparently i dropped lit cigarettes down my shirt throughout the night, so i was also covered in burns. this is why i never drink.
i went to therapy yesterday, for an emergency appointment. i just couldn't wait for thursday. dr royce prescribed me klonopin for my anxiety, which has reached the point of insanity. i can't keep still or calm enough to do anything, and even sitting on her couch, i had the urge to run run run run run. after filling my prescription, i met up with max, and took half a tab, since she told me half will be okay enough, since i'm 90lbs. it worked like magic. i felt so calm and clear-headed and social and it was just incredible. i didn't expect it to affect me in that way, considering all the xanax prescriptions i've had that totally killed my memory and made me want to kill everybody. so i'm really grateful for that klonopin. except today i took it again and it didn't do anything. so i took a whole tab instead of half, and still nothing. i just got off the phone with dr royce, and she said to come pick up another script tomorrow, for a stronger dosage, or just more of the same. she said i should take 3 a day, if i want to take it regularly, or i can take it whenever the anxiety hits. i prefer to take it regularly. i don't want to be a pill popper. been there, done that, over it.
now i need a cigarette. i'll keep writing. no, really this time. i will.
everything is working out, everything is fucking great. i will keep writing.
maybe not today, but more often now.
xo sasha
Friday, August 27, 2010
i'm on the pursuit of happiness.
i've got a whole lot to say! since the writing of my previous entry, i have been locked away inside a psych ward. i was admitted sunday night, and stayed til wednesday afternoon. i have so much to say, but right now i'm about to see max, so i'll finish this up later today. just had to start so i'll remember to write about it.
actually i have a few minutes, so i'll start. max and i got into an argument over a friend of mine on sunday, and he pretty much broke up with me, saying he can't trust me and all that bull. i was already tight because he promised to take me to the hospital to get some psychological help (i had a breakdown the previous night), and then he didn't take me. but he had the audacity to get angry with me for getting angry with him. so when we got into this fight, i pretty much lost whatever i had left of my mind and cut myself. very very very badly. as much as anyone wants to believe i did it because of max, that isn't true. i did it as a cry for help. i know for a fact if i hadn't harmed myself seriously enough, i wouldn't have gotten any help. my parents just don't believe in depression, they don't think i have a problem, they think i can be happy if i really want to. well, clearly i don't want to be this way. i don't want to have ridiculous insomnia, not sleeping for days at a time. i don't want to be so empty and depressed every hour of every day. i don't want to have anxiety that literally makes me cry and shake. so. i cut myself. i was taken to lutheran in an ambulance, all the while hearing "you're such a beautiful young girl, why would you do this to yourself? you have everything to live for." well obviously i don't think that way of myself.
at the hospital, they stitched and cleaned me up, and then i was told to wait for the psychiatrist to evaluate me before i can go back home. that turned out to be a nightmare. max and i were fighting while i was waiting, and that made me literally go insane when it was time to see the psychiatrist. so i was given a choice: voluntarily admit myself to the psychiatric ward in the hospital, or i would be involuntarily admitted. that made me go even crazier. i ended up signing the form, though, because i was told i can discharge myself whenever i want to. what a load of bull that turned out to be. i couldn't sleep, couldn't eat the whole time i was there. my roommate scared me; she talked to herself, screamed shrilly at nighttime, urinated all over the floor, had a serious bout with bulimia, and stuffed oranges into the toilet. there were a few "normal" patients in there, and we kind of gravitated towards eachother. if i didn't find anyone even semi-normal, i probably would have lost my mind completely. i always believed i was actually a bit crazy, with the way i thought about everything, but being in that ward, i got to see what crazy really is. girls who eat pencils (but prefer the eraser because 'its like strawberries'), who jump out of windows because ghosts pulled them out, who attempted to jump off the non-existent world trade center, who believe jesus brought them to the psych ward by the hand, etc etc. me? i just have depression. it was so scary, i'll never be able to explain it. it's one of those things you have to experience for yourself to truly understand what it's like.
i kept begging to be released, claiming i'll lose my mind if i'm around these crazy people, that you can't put someone normal into a hospital full of crazies because they too will turn crazy. i tried to explain to everybody i could that i didn't want to kill myself, that if i really truly wanted to, i would, and i wouldn't tell anybody about it either. i'd just fucking do it. the way i cut myself? you can't die that way, unless you sit there for hours, letting the blood seep out of you. but nobody listened to me. that hospital makes no sense, either. they kept giving me pills every hour to help me sleep, and i didn't sleep, but almost OD'd on sleeping pills. what kind of help is that?! i begged my parents to do something, i even showed them how "my rights" clearly stated "upon being voluntarily admitted, you have the option to be discharged whenever you believe help cannot be given to you at the hospital. you have to request to be discharged in writing, and upon receiving the word, the hospital staff will discharge you promptly. if your doctor feels you aren't ready to be discharged, it is not safe for you, he has 72 hours from receiving your request, to get a court order to keep you in the hospital." but apparently that was a fucking lie. they just would not let me go! eventually my mother, with the help of her boss (lyn thank you so fucking much, you literally saved my mind), found me an incredible psychiatrist on the UES to see. Dr. Lauren Royce (god bless you) spoke with my psychiatrist at lutheran, and i was discharged after 3 nights in the psych ward. i actually had an appt with dr. royce yesterday morning, and i can honestly say i feel hopeful about all of this, and about her treating me. she told me to stop taking the prozac, and trazedone, and vistaril. and thank god for that because 1. prozac made me more depressed, 2. trazedone did NOT help me sleep at all, and 3. vistaril made me even more anxious, and it made it very hard to breathe. dr. royce put me on lexapro and ambien. last night i slept for 10 hours, and it was the most amazing sleep. lexapro hasn't had any effect on me yet, and i'm so grateful for that. antidepressants usually take 3-4 weeks, sometimes maybe even 2, to really start working. but with prozac, i felt it instantly, and it was so disturbing. i felt drunk, and not the good kind, but the kind where your head doesn't stop spinning, and you can't walk straight, and all you want to do is throw up and pass out. so now i'm on new meds, and very hopeful, and since i slept so much last night, i'm very energetic and chatty. i love it. my depression sucks all the energy out of me, but idk if it's the lexapro or the ambien that helped me sleep, but i actually had the energy to get out of bed today, and clean, and cook, and everything i felt like doing.
i wrote so much already. max should be here in 10mins. i'll finish up later today. i have a lot more to say!
thank you, dr. royce. thank you, lyn. thank you, pamela. thank you, mama. thank you, papa. thank you max. & thanks to dr. jean-mary, monica, timothy, louie, stacy, amy, edward, and that russian nurse who's name i can't pronounce or even spell. dr. j-m, you can suck my dick, but i'm glad you finally let me go. you're an ass and i hope you lose your license, and i hope you somehow get locked up in that fucking monster ward so you know what the fuck you did to all the normal people who hadn't needed to be there.
right, i'll write later.
x sasha
actually i have a few minutes, so i'll start. max and i got into an argument over a friend of mine on sunday, and he pretty much broke up with me, saying he can't trust me and all that bull. i was already tight because he promised to take me to the hospital to get some psychological help (i had a breakdown the previous night), and then he didn't take me. but he had the audacity to get angry with me for getting angry with him. so when we got into this fight, i pretty much lost whatever i had left of my mind and cut myself. very very very badly. as much as anyone wants to believe i did it because of max, that isn't true. i did it as a cry for help. i know for a fact if i hadn't harmed myself seriously enough, i wouldn't have gotten any help. my parents just don't believe in depression, they don't think i have a problem, they think i can be happy if i really want to. well, clearly i don't want to be this way. i don't want to have ridiculous insomnia, not sleeping for days at a time. i don't want to be so empty and depressed every hour of every day. i don't want to have anxiety that literally makes me cry and shake. so. i cut myself. i was taken to lutheran in an ambulance, all the while hearing "you're such a beautiful young girl, why would you do this to yourself? you have everything to live for." well obviously i don't think that way of myself.
at the hospital, they stitched and cleaned me up, and then i was told to wait for the psychiatrist to evaluate me before i can go back home. that turned out to be a nightmare. max and i were fighting while i was waiting, and that made me literally go insane when it was time to see the psychiatrist. so i was given a choice: voluntarily admit myself to the psychiatric ward in the hospital, or i would be involuntarily admitted. that made me go even crazier. i ended up signing the form, though, because i was told i can discharge myself whenever i want to. what a load of bull that turned out to be. i couldn't sleep, couldn't eat the whole time i was there. my roommate scared me; she talked to herself, screamed shrilly at nighttime, urinated all over the floor, had a serious bout with bulimia, and stuffed oranges into the toilet. there were a few "normal" patients in there, and we kind of gravitated towards eachother. if i didn't find anyone even semi-normal, i probably would have lost my mind completely. i always believed i was actually a bit crazy, with the way i thought about everything, but being in that ward, i got to see what crazy really is. girls who eat pencils (but prefer the eraser because 'its like strawberries'), who jump out of windows because ghosts pulled them out, who attempted to jump off the non-existent world trade center, who believe jesus brought them to the psych ward by the hand, etc etc. me? i just have depression. it was so scary, i'll never be able to explain it. it's one of those things you have to experience for yourself to truly understand what it's like.
i kept begging to be released, claiming i'll lose my mind if i'm around these crazy people, that you can't put someone normal into a hospital full of crazies because they too will turn crazy. i tried to explain to everybody i could that i didn't want to kill myself, that if i really truly wanted to, i would, and i wouldn't tell anybody about it either. i'd just fucking do it. the way i cut myself? you can't die that way, unless you sit there for hours, letting the blood seep out of you. but nobody listened to me. that hospital makes no sense, either. they kept giving me pills every hour to help me sleep, and i didn't sleep, but almost OD'd on sleeping pills. what kind of help is that?! i begged my parents to do something, i even showed them how "my rights" clearly stated "upon being voluntarily admitted, you have the option to be discharged whenever you believe help cannot be given to you at the hospital. you have to request to be discharged in writing, and upon receiving the word, the hospital staff will discharge you promptly. if your doctor feels you aren't ready to be discharged, it is not safe for you, he has 72 hours from receiving your request, to get a court order to keep you in the hospital." but apparently that was a fucking lie. they just would not let me go! eventually my mother, with the help of her boss (lyn thank you so fucking much, you literally saved my mind), found me an incredible psychiatrist on the UES to see. Dr. Lauren Royce (god bless you) spoke with my psychiatrist at lutheran, and i was discharged after 3 nights in the psych ward. i actually had an appt with dr. royce yesterday morning, and i can honestly say i feel hopeful about all of this, and about her treating me. she told me to stop taking the prozac, and trazedone, and vistaril. and thank god for that because 1. prozac made me more depressed, 2. trazedone did NOT help me sleep at all, and 3. vistaril made me even more anxious, and it made it very hard to breathe. dr. royce put me on lexapro and ambien. last night i slept for 10 hours, and it was the most amazing sleep. lexapro hasn't had any effect on me yet, and i'm so grateful for that. antidepressants usually take 3-4 weeks, sometimes maybe even 2, to really start working. but with prozac, i felt it instantly, and it was so disturbing. i felt drunk, and not the good kind, but the kind where your head doesn't stop spinning, and you can't walk straight, and all you want to do is throw up and pass out. so now i'm on new meds, and very hopeful, and since i slept so much last night, i'm very energetic and chatty. i love it. my depression sucks all the energy out of me, but idk if it's the lexapro or the ambien that helped me sleep, but i actually had the energy to get out of bed today, and clean, and cook, and everything i felt like doing.
i wrote so much already. max should be here in 10mins. i'll finish up later today. i have a lot more to say!
thank you, dr. royce. thank you, lyn. thank you, pamela. thank you, mama. thank you, papa. thank you max. & thanks to dr. jean-mary, monica, timothy, louie, stacy, amy, edward, and that russian nurse who's name i can't pronounce or even spell. dr. j-m, you can suck my dick, but i'm glad you finally let me go. you're an ass and i hope you lose your license, and i hope you somehow get locked up in that fucking monster ward so you know what the fuck you did to all the normal people who hadn't needed to be there.
right, i'll write later.
x sasha
Saturday, August 21, 2010
i feel i'm thrown into a fight
i cannot believe it has been so long since i've written in here. i just went through the past entries, and noticed how many times i've written "i will write here!" and "this time i will keep a journal!". -__-
so much has changed in my life since i've last posted. numerous jobs obtained and lost, friendships built and shattered, addictions that became all-consuming, abusing substances, and abusing everything else. everybody has relationships with people and things that go on for a few months and then just fall apart, in the way that these things do. sometimes the end hurts bad, sometimes it's no big deal, sometimes it's a pleasant relief, but mostly it's nothing that a few days of peace can't cure. i've been through so fucking many, i'm a relationship slut. i build relationships with narcotics, with liquor, with friends that are all wrong for me, with friends that are all right for me (and all those are the ones i destroy the fastest), etc etc.
it's just that.. looking back, i cannot understand how everything changed so fucking quickly. it seems as if one minute i was flying, so full of love and life and laughs, and the next i was passed out with a nosebleed in my office bathroom, chasing a high i will never reach again. looking back, i can't pinpoint when it all began to crumble. i've always been depressed, for as long as i can remember, and the scariest part is that if you ask anyone in the throes of depression how he got there, to pin down the turning point, he'll never know. There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say in response is, "Gradually and then suddenly." When someone asks how i lost my mind, that is all i can say too. i just don't know when or how or why. i just know that it is what it is. and what it is, i don't like.
i will have no choice but to go back to therapy. maybe this time i'll actually succumb to the endless supply of prescriptions the psychiatrists tell me will "help". i've spoken to maha countless times about this situation, and she believes i will benefit from antidepressants. but is it so much to fucking ask to not have to rely on something to make me happy? since when did everything in this world have a price? with my addiction to opana, i allowed myself (what the fuck was i thinking?!) to spend $90 a day (A DAY. ONE. DAY.) for a day of happiness. i now know that it wasn't happiness at all, but whatever the fuck it was, it gave me a will to live. now that i'm sober, the depression that paved a path to an addiction, is back. i'm always thinking there really is no cure for depression, that happiness is an ongoing battle, and i wonder if it isn't one i'll have to fight for as long as i live. i wonder if it's worth it.
i begin to think what i really want, what i really need, what i'm truly looking for, is not something i can articulate. it's nonverbal. i need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on. i had it, just a year ago. i was so fucking happy i wanted to strangle a mountain ox with my bare hands. i can't even explain. so what happened? what in the world happened to turn me into this.. this thing?
i have no answer for that, but i have the want. the want to change, the want to figure out what in the fuck is going on in my head. so that's where i am in this life right now: figuring myself out, trying to find happiness once more.
don't get me wrong, i have max, and that really is all i will ever need. but i don't have him here 24/7. i can't just be happy a few hours a day when i see him, and spend the other 20+ hours going completely nuts. i know the toll this is taking on him, and i am so fucking sorry, i truly wish i could just shut my depression on and off, just shove it into some dark, crampy corner and just shut it up when i'm with him. but i can't. and believe me, if i fucking could, i would.
this post was disturbingly pathetic. but i got it out there. i just wish i could get it out of me.
S
so much has changed in my life since i've last posted. numerous jobs obtained and lost, friendships built and shattered, addictions that became all-consuming, abusing substances, and abusing everything else. everybody has relationships with people and things that go on for a few months and then just fall apart, in the way that these things do. sometimes the end hurts bad, sometimes it's no big deal, sometimes it's a pleasant relief, but mostly it's nothing that a few days of peace can't cure. i've been through so fucking many, i'm a relationship slut. i build relationships with narcotics, with liquor, with friends that are all wrong for me, with friends that are all right for me (and all those are the ones i destroy the fastest), etc etc.
it's just that.. looking back, i cannot understand how everything changed so fucking quickly. it seems as if one minute i was flying, so full of love and life and laughs, and the next i was passed out with a nosebleed in my office bathroom, chasing a high i will never reach again. looking back, i can't pinpoint when it all began to crumble. i've always been depressed, for as long as i can remember, and the scariest part is that if you ask anyone in the throes of depression how he got there, to pin down the turning point, he'll never know. There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say in response is, "Gradually and then suddenly." When someone asks how i lost my mind, that is all i can say too. i just don't know when or how or why. i just know that it is what it is. and what it is, i don't like.
i will have no choice but to go back to therapy. maybe this time i'll actually succumb to the endless supply of prescriptions the psychiatrists tell me will "help". i've spoken to maha countless times about this situation, and she believes i will benefit from antidepressants. but is it so much to fucking ask to not have to rely on something to make me happy? since when did everything in this world have a price? with my addiction to opana, i allowed myself (what the fuck was i thinking?!) to spend $90 a day (A DAY. ONE. DAY.) for a day of happiness. i now know that it wasn't happiness at all, but whatever the fuck it was, it gave me a will to live. now that i'm sober, the depression that paved a path to an addiction, is back. i'm always thinking there really is no cure for depression, that happiness is an ongoing battle, and i wonder if it isn't one i'll have to fight for as long as i live. i wonder if it's worth it.
i begin to think what i really want, what i really need, what i'm truly looking for, is not something i can articulate. it's nonverbal. i need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on. i had it, just a year ago. i was so fucking happy i wanted to strangle a mountain ox with my bare hands. i can't even explain. so what happened? what in the world happened to turn me into this.. this thing?
i have no answer for that, but i have the want. the want to change, the want to figure out what in the fuck is going on in my head. so that's where i am in this life right now: figuring myself out, trying to find happiness once more.
don't get me wrong, i have max, and that really is all i will ever need. but i don't have him here 24/7. i can't just be happy a few hours a day when i see him, and spend the other 20+ hours going completely nuts. i know the toll this is taking on him, and i am so fucking sorry, i truly wish i could just shut my depression on and off, just shove it into some dark, crampy corner and just shut it up when i'm with him. but i can't. and believe me, if i fucking could, i would.
this post was disturbingly pathetic. but i got it out there. i just wish i could get it out of me.
S
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