January ’13 (reminisce on 2012) -i-

i can say i have been honest. you still won’t know you can trust me. i should have to prove it, right? all the greatest liars in the world would have you believe they are trustworthy. partly rainy & the chance for showers January 26, 2013 // Our misintepreted Mayan ‘doomsday’ passed and left a depressive crater in my head. My cat, well, she just had enough. She took off. Not even to come back and say goodbye to mommy. I was so fucking sad over it. I added precipitation to the forecast. Partly rainy, with a chance for showers… and a certainty of tears. Dried me out. The holidays. Robbed me of my peace of mind and stole my usual comfort and preference toward introversion. Instead, I headtripped over it. I felt betrayed and abandoned. The feelings always pass, but the lingering taste of my own blood and a bitten lip kept me dry and cold as salted fish on ice. So i treated my condition by exacerbating it. In the usual fashion. Once I feel so blue i consider myself suffering, I tend to focus on the pain. Which tends to grow in size as a result of my acknowledging and stalking it. Yes. Stalking my pain. I confess. All i knew was gone. I hit the dollar store. Sucked up snack size Mounds bars, until the coconut was so concentrated my taste buds began to freak and hit the switch on the taste, changing it to something spicy and oily like suntan lotion mixed with Crystal hot sauce. i drank this mix like soup. I took breaks between overindulgence in Mounds. I washed down my landlords Pabsts and the champagne of beers, whichever was offered. I entertained the diuretics. Cranberry juices and teas, coffee. Dried me out. I could have passed for dehydrated fruit. Yet I could not have passed, because unlike the fruit, I was not to be picked. No one would eat me. I was thin-skinned and bare boned, my left eardrum ruptured, homeless, unemployed, suffering from ptsd, sexually assaulted, victimized but not a victim, living in a truck, sucked up by life, writing to survive, bicycling to survive, getting high to survive, paranoid, hallucinating through my right ear, abandoned by my mom, eight years now and counting, depressed, paranoid… and that damn crater sunk into my chest, where my heart once resided.