Writing this from the library. I like hanging out here, kind of because home seems so...not-safe? It feels like there could be things hiding behind the shower curtains and around the corner and stuff, the house is too big and empty. I feel like something bad’s happened in it, but I don’t know what.
The library’s really cool and cozy and the lights are all bright, and there’s always people around. Some of the nicer librarians know my name and say hi to me, and there’s always this mom and her little kid who come ever afternoon, and this guy with sunglasses who is always writing stuff and looking on books in the table tucked into one of the darker corners, upstairs in the Adult Nonfiction Section. Me and Alison always make fun of him for the whole sunglasses-inside-thing. Pretty sure he’s, like, a spy.
And of course, there’s Alison, (I think I've talked about her, the Killjoy who’s always hanging around there and she’s also written bandom fanfic and it’s awesome) and I just.
CAN’T.
EVEN.
DESCRIBE.
How awesome she is and cute and I just want to bang on my keyboard and squeal.
We’ve been hanging out at the library, I kind of want to ask her to get ice cream or something. Maybe coffee? I don’t know. Anyways she's trying to look over my shoulder so I'm posting this.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Suffocate this light
When the headaches get really bad, the thoughts running through my head and banging against the sides of my skull say, "go over the rainbow. Go over the rainbow."
It's actually not hard to do. Just focus on the burning feeling in the front part of my brain, and then I'm there. The smell is the first thing I notice, damp and rich. The walls are lined with books and the lights are soft and warm and yellow, and there's chairs in the corners with blankets and stuff. I can sit there reading books, but I never remember what I read. It's not a dream, it's almost like a place in my brain, but it feels kind of like a dream sometimes.
Finally I know it's safe to leave, and it's like I'm flying before I land back into my head. Sometimes it's still a little sore, but it's not that bad.
It's actually not hard to do. Just focus on the burning feeling in the front part of my brain, and then I'm there. The smell is the first thing I notice, damp and rich. The walls are lined with books and the lights are soft and warm and yellow, and there's chairs in the corners with blankets and stuff. I can sit there reading books, but I never remember what I read. It's not a dream, it's almost like a place in my brain, but it feels kind of like a dream sometimes.
Finally I know it's safe to leave, and it's like I'm flying before I land back into my head. Sometimes it's still a little sore, but it's not that bad.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Hello, angel...tell me where we go from here
I'm okay, if anyone was wondering.
This is totally not the sentence I wanted to begin with. I have like fifty million drafts on word and on blogger and on pieces of paper lying around the house explaining everything and trying to get out all that happened and I could never finish them.
Stuff happened, I guess. And for the past...month? Two months? I don't exactly remember and I'm too lazy to go back and check the dates, but anyways. I've just been doing stuff. Houses are actually harder to run than I thought. I have to clean all this stuff and buy food and I made the mistake of buying, like, all candy at first and then I got really hungry and tried to go to the grocery store at two in the morning on a bike I found in the garage and I got really scared and came back home. It was kind of funny, actually, and I laughed, like, actually laughed, and it felt just weird. It didn't even feel particularly good. It just felt like something. And then I try to save money, so I turn down the AC and go to the library. There's a really nice one that's not too far away.
It's strange. Because once this blog kept me entertained and then it kept me sane and then it just reminded me of stuff I don't want to remember.
There's this really cute girl who's always hanging out at the library. She likes My Chemical Romance, too, we squeed about bandom and listened to music and stuff. I told her my parents were dead and I lived with my aunt and she had to work a lot. Sometimes it almost feels like it's true, but then at night I get the headaches again, but this time they aren't full of stuff that might happen, they're full of stuff that did happen, and facts and pictures and everything too much like trying to read through a textbook with no paragraphs separated while the TV's going and music's blaring and people are talking to you and pinging you on facebook, an information overload that makes me feel like my skull is going to split right open. It's the worst but at least I haven't been getting them during the day.
Anyways, I might start updating again and stuff. I kind of miss it, even though I don't like looking through my blog posts ever.
This is totally not the sentence I wanted to begin with. I have like fifty million drafts on word and on blogger and on pieces of paper lying around the house explaining everything and trying to get out all that happened and I could never finish them.
Stuff happened, I guess. And for the past...month? Two months? I don't exactly remember and I'm too lazy to go back and check the dates, but anyways. I've just been doing stuff. Houses are actually harder to run than I thought. I have to clean all this stuff and buy food and I made the mistake of buying, like, all candy at first and then I got really hungry and tried to go to the grocery store at two in the morning on a bike I found in the garage and I got really scared and came back home. It was kind of funny, actually, and I laughed, like, actually laughed, and it felt just weird. It didn't even feel particularly good. It just felt like something. And then I try to save money, so I turn down the AC and go to the library. There's a really nice one that's not too far away.
It's strange. Because once this blog kept me entertained and then it kept me sane and then it just reminded me of stuff I don't want to remember.
There's this really cute girl who's always hanging out at the library. She likes My Chemical Romance, too, we squeed about bandom and listened to music and stuff. I told her my parents were dead and I lived with my aunt and she had to work a lot. Sometimes it almost feels like it's true, but then at night I get the headaches again, but this time they aren't full of stuff that might happen, they're full of stuff that did happen, and facts and pictures and everything too much like trying to read through a textbook with no paragraphs separated while the TV's going and music's blaring and people are talking to you and pinging you on facebook, an information overload that makes me feel like my skull is going to split right open. It's the worst but at least I haven't been getting them during the day.
Anyways, I might start updating again and stuff. I kind of miss it, even though I don't like looking through my blog posts ever.
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