...That Colder, Lowly Light

If you're curious, dearest....

I have been made to suffer for everything I have ever done by being arranged to exist in the universe once again, at the mercy of others. I am indebted to all, and so am imprisoned. Obligations are suffocating me, and all I want to do is run away from everything, find a dark hole and die in it.

Oh love, I have waxed suicidal before, and deepest melodrama you've heard a hundred times. But this is the first time in so long that I have had so few reasons not to... I lost everything that made me free, and enslaved myself to the kindness of my friends, and this kingdom is a dark place with high walls, little light, and it smells an awful lot like prison.

I thought things would be different here, and I was wrong. I was wrong before I even came here, and I knew it, and so did everyone else, which increases the depth and magnitude of my shame exponentially. I have lost everything so many times... I don't want to rebuild anymore, why should I have to?

No one else does. My friends were scooped up by men and taken away, and provided for, --why am I left out? Oh, that's right. I'm unmanageable and impossible and mean and sarcastic and god, what else is on the docket? OH! I eat a low-carb diet, and told my last "real" male companion that I didn't want to keep bread in the house.

Well, guess what, you fucking son of a bitch.

Now I have diabetes and still can't eat too many carbs, so not having bread, is no longer a choice, or a health option, it is a life necessity. Oh, and let's not forget, the cunting motherfucker who set us up, my great big love gone dead and fucked a long time ago, agreed, and said that I was crazy, and he also would have dumped me.

He's getting married now. I'm still divorced, and fucked by life, and dead on arrival, better off aborted, --and that's another funny story. My best love, is getting married and I just get to sit here and be miserable living off friends. And you all get to watch. I hope it's entertaining. I'd sell popcorn, but the point of the is not to make money, because it would be productive, and the Universe just cannot allow that. I cannot allow myself to just be okay, I have to fuck myself over repeatedly.

All the people, Kristen, Jeremy, my gramma, and everyone who said I should stay the hell away from Florida was right, but god damn you, I go to see the ocean and it was beautiful and fuck you twice for not believing in me when I needed it so much. Fuck you once more for being right. I have to be grateful and bow down before the friends who help me, and I'll never be able to pay them back, and you know what, despite what you see in the movies, THAT IS NOT A GOOD FEELING!

I wish I had died, I wish I had died, I wish I had died. I wish the doctor never called, I wish my potassium had never been fucking forced to come back up, I wish I had just puked and pissed, and drank and drowned in gatorade and juice and water and I wish that had been the end. The end, the end, because this is the worst place I have ever been, ever, and no one can save me, and the worst part of it is that even if someone could, they wouldn't, no one will, it won't fucking happen, and I won't save myself, because I hate myself more than any of you ever could.

I'm not pretty enough or young enough to sell myself to some guy from AOL anymore either, which is what I did the last time my entire life turned to shit. But if you know anyone who wants a fat ugly diabetic slave, you let me know, because to want me for anything other than pointing and laughing at, is to surely be scraping the bottom of the barrel.