i cant figure out why i cant center the damn header pic

But oh well.

Tonight's insnomia is a little thing called guilt.

1)Been thinking a lot about school these past couple days. And that's a bummer. Because I never really finished. One minor credit away that I failed and an NR a professor refuses to change. Well. I don't need the minor credit but I mean, why not? Good to have a minor while I am at it. But I never applied to grad school and now its too late and I don't want to tell my parents and blah blah blah. I'll be 25 soon and not one goddamned thing to show for it. I couldn't even keep Hot Knees alive.

2)This depression is really crushing me lately, so much I feel guilty about Emily. I feel like, if I can't even make myself happy how am I going to make her happy? This last year I haven't respected myself enough to have more than a casual sex relationship with everyone I have been involved with, and anyone I did like enough to want to date I only did because I knew they would reject me because of their own mental hangups. Rejection and lack of respect. Now that I have someone I care about/cares about me I still don't feel happy and I feel like I should, and I feel like I am letting her down by not being more...I don't know. Peppy. I feel lukewarm. I want to grab her and kiss her like I mean it and take long car rides listening to pretty music and whatever cute things I can't even think of because I am too depressed to. I just don't feel good enough for someone as good as her because I haven't sorted out my own issues yet.

...

So much for going to bed early. Ho Hum.

hum

No real reason for the lack of sleep tonight.

Thinking about my future I guess and down about that. And money. Doesn't help I was drinking coffee til 2 am.

My armpits are sweaty.

I'm getting a headache.

Throat hurts.

I love shrimp and pumpkin pie.

Not sure why I keep watching back episodes of Ugly Betty.

I am wearing this blazer my mom let me borrow and I am enjoying it:


My friend Dustin suggested melatonin for my insomnia. Maybe I'll try it.

Don't like this headache.

my mechanical heart

And writing. I want to write again. I have three different styles.

1)Argumentative prose
2)Expository prose
3)Creative nonfiction

I mean, writing in this thing will just be journal style, but I am hoping I will be able to fit all three of those in here. Especially number three. My favorite.

Here is something I wrote on FB a few days ago:
There are certain things I really miss. People, rather.

This insomnia is getting the best of me. I know it's my own mental barrier yet I still am unable to knock it down. You can't break the hand that feeds you. Break it.

It's 5:34 am when my mother comes into the brightly lit bathroom.

"I don't know how you are going to wake up for your dentist appointment." As she says this I am brushing my teeth.

"I don't know how either, but I do it all the time." I start pulling floss through my tender gums, and red starts to appear between my teeth. I'm concerned about the health of my gums, thus my making a dentist appointment for myself. My parents always stressed the benefits of a healthy mouth.

When did sleeping become so hard? When did writing become so hard?

Inane thoughts parade through my brain as I sit in bed, staring at the cat and attempting sleep. So much for the fireworks.

I remember the time I tried so hard and I just couldn't do it. I tried and tried and it was like trying to climb a flat cement wall with nothing to grab onto, I was clawing trying to make grooves in the cement but instead I wore down my nails that I had just a day earlier painted such a pretty pretty pink. Rosebud pink it was called, but it looked more like slightly worn ballerina slippers. Maybe if I had put those slippers on and danced I woulda got somewhere but for what it was worth I was treading water.

"You lack clarity and detail," a professor once told me in so many words, none of which were "you" and "lack" and "clarity" and "and" and "detail." But I figured if I threw in words like "azure" and "softly glistening" and "draped like the folds of a motheaten curtain in an abandoned house" I'd get some extra credit or something. Or be a real poetic author. But I've never been a poet. I have a knack for being the kind of realist you never learned about in English class and never will because no one gives a shit about the pointless conversations of day to day life. But that's realism, baby. No one wants a piece unless that turd is polished, even if in some gruesome nitty gritty way, like "his grizzled mouth spat a brown wad of tobacco onto the fading ochre linoleum of her kitchen floor." Shit, even that's boring.

I guess I'm not cut out for fiction or poetry. I should argue and tell you when it's okay to like something and not okay for other somethings. Or tell you little blips about my life that never add up to the sum of my parts, parts bad and good and ugly and beautiful and honest and deceitful andandandandand. And.

I could tack on a million ands and a million ballerina slippers but it's never gonna change anything but my feet attire.

I'm lookin at photos of you like they are some last known photos and maybe they are. I start to think to myself and it's like this: "so here we go."

road to recovery

I'm listening to Midnight Juggernauts and doing my therapy assignment. That is, kind of. The therapist told me to start forcing myself to exercise, getting to bed on time, etc. And he said if I can't do that, at least write about why I didn't. So I started this blog to talk about all of the above.

I guess tonight I didn't go to bed at a decent hour because I slept too long today. I woke up (after like 4 times finally) at 5:30. Why? Because this insane insomnia really drags on me, and my body finally rebelled today. So now I am back to being fucked up on sleep.

In these last couple hours I have found myself thinking so much about Dan, and how I miss him. I really don't know who Christian is, but he is nowhere near the caliber of person Dan was. To be honest, I completely admired Dan. Emulated. I knew I could never be the human being Dan was. Honest, loyal, strong, fierce, unencumbered, sweet, kinder than anyone, and true to himself. I protected him in any instance I could. His name, his health, his wellbeing...I loved Dan. I mean, I still do. But I don't know that Dan is coming back. I think I started to love Dan as much or even more than Ian. Because Ian is my blood brother who despite not talking to me, I love more than anyone, but Dan is the brother I was able to choose. And he loved me. He protected me and loved me back, just like I did him. And never ever did some of the things Ian did. Dan didn't make fun of my ears. Dan didn't make fun of my friends. Dan listened to me cry and Dan laughed with me.

So I guess I am taking it really hard that Dan's alter ego has taken a stranglehold. To the point that I guess he is legally changing his name. Christian is killing Dan and ensuring he never comes back. Overdramatic? Maybe. But I could not have chosen a better brother in Dan. And like Ian, I just want him back. I want to walk down the streets drunk at 3am yelling dumb shit and not caring what people thought of us. I want to stay up til 5 watching Star Wars. I want to go to Bsides and dance like idiots, not trying to attract someone to makeout with. I want to walk all over Kent eating bread we picked up from the Vineyard. I want to read dumb books about toads and dinosaurs in funny voices. I want our old injokes. I want everything we had. I want my Dan.

Now when we talk we barely have anything to say to each other. Its like smalltalk with a coworker. Painful and short. Scraping the bottom of the barrel. Never complete, he usually ends up not responding to my last text. Or signing off fb chat. Or phone not working so he can't pick up my call. I am beginning to forget how we were able to spend hours on the phone after being apart for just a couple days. I just keep listening to Royksopp's Miss It So Much and thinking of him.

I don't know. I hate not feeling cool enough for my own best friend. Especially when I thought he could be my own brother.