26.8.11

I met his mother today.
Even though we've been together for.....
A year and.....
Four months.
She has been avoiding me because she found this website.
And therefore it is for my own pleasure now.
She was nice.
I started sweating when we first started talking.
Which is very uncommon. 

He is too comfortable with me.
In the manner that he is extremely rude.
Constantly.
Even if it's minor,
It's like having a huge bruise poked over and over again.
And I am becoming too sick of it.
To the point where I will leave him if he doesn't change.
But whenever I try to speak to him about any problems,
He turns it into a situation where I'm "nagging"
And he's just sighing and over it.
And won't listen to a thing.

How can I be in a relationship where I can't talk to him about anything.
That's fucking stupid.
What a selfish ape.

20.8.11

Oh yeah.
And fuck my friends.



Yeah, I remember.
Waking up with stormy weather.
Grinding with the bile.
Rotting teeth behind the smile.

And it's burning into my tongue.
I've learned my lesson, but I continue on.
I need some secret mistake. 
Makes me laugh as my spine breaks.

I find myself reaching for cigarettes.
Gum.
Cough drops.
My soul stops.
And I'm obsessed again.

Sick off the vitamins.

Sick off of anything.



Waking up nauseous. 

19.8.11

My throat hurts.
I'm exhausted.
Every time I eat, I get nauseous.
And I'm obsessing. 


I've seen too much of Lucas.
That also exhausts me.
I don't.
He pushed my boundaries.
And I hate that.

Speaking of.
I still have to email that photographer man that I cleaned for.
And tell him I'm never coming again and not to contact me.

I don't trust Bryan.
He's going to do the same thing he did to Emily.
Why not.
He's always looking.

And I'm settled.
And old.
And prude.
And dried up.
And I'm happy and comfortable this way.

So.....sucks for me.












And I wish being in a relationship didn't take the guitar away from me.
Good thing I'm going to sleep alone tonight.
He can flirt with grommy beezies.
And I can have a nice evening with Harrison. 

16.8.11

It's comforting that he's so sensitive about my interactions.
Hopefully, it means that he is about his own.
That he knows the proper boundaries

I was really rude tonight.

And I realized it was all in punishment of him being late home today.
And I needed the car.
And he was three hours late with it.

I had to see an apartment very soon, though.
So I had a lot of anxiety.

And I was fine after.

But I was still anxious over the possibility of fucking up.

Do other people have such strict fears of failure?
Or do I have some kind of disorder I don't care/know about?
Drunk.
And.
Emotional.
Talking to a guy friend.




I just.

Will never do anything to ruin my relationship.

14.8.11

I have been upset with my weight for two months now.
And I have been trying to exercise it off.
I vomit for two days.
And here I am.
Where I want to be.

How fucking annoying!





Why are the bad things so easy?


I dreamt that I was dangling out of Tom's car.
Because they had no space due to everyone else.
And we were driving down the highway.
And Tom makes a sharp turn to pull into the driveway.
I fall off, and cars swerved to avoid hitting me.
And one stops dead in front of my face.
And I was there.
I felt it all.
But I wasn't afraid.
I knew nothing would happen.


I seem to have this luck where I get away with anything.
And I do things sloppily.
Such as stealing.

However, it may be because I am stealing candy most of the time.


No, it can not be that.


The people in Safeway who make sandwiches for me everyday must know.
They look at me like they do.
Or maybe they just wonder how I can eat so many sandwiches.



I don't exactly want to be crazy thin.
I just want to be in shape.
So though I may be partially throwing up,
I must still eat and make sure I get protein.
And obviously continue going to the gym.





God damnit, I just want to find out if he's going to leave me for Boston already.











I cleaned this man's house.
His name is Swami.
He asked me what I like to do, and I told him photography.
It turns out that he was a photo journalist and worked for movie sets such as Drug Wars.
The FDA then had him be a photographer for their drug busts.
And he showed me some of his photos.
I considered some of them over edited.
And then he asks if he can take a picture of me.
I allow him. 
And next thing I fucking know, there he goes.
He tells me that my stance is elegant and asks if I model.
And this is how I know that he is creeping on me.
Because I do not have to proper body or height of a model.
He's just,
Doing that dumb ass cliche' thing.
And he continues on to aks to see my stomach.
Takes the initiative to pull my shirt up for me.
And he tries to roll down my pants and notices that I'm not wearing underwear. 
I tell him that I have boundaries.
And he asks me if I'm shy.
No, I have boundaries god damnit.
He tries to pull my shirt up, and once I realize that he's trying to pull it up further, I take hold of my shirt, back off, and reiterate that I have god damn boundaries.
However, I have not even started to clean his house yet.
He lets me play with his expensive camera, and I take a few pictures.
He lets me edit them on his computer, but continues to sit in the office chair.
Therefore, I have to stand in front of him, and he does not give me enough space, 
and he finds it appropriate to touch my butt to get my attention.








I feel gross.
And Bryan tells me it's my fault it happened.

8.8.11

I drive to Danville after buying $110 of the purest Cocaine I've had so far in this life.
And I arrive to a situation where.
Where Cocaine is going to make the night only difficult.


I can't even describe this right now.
Melissa is anxiety in a bottle.


It was a very uncomfortable night.



But at least I wrote a long lovely letter to my boyfriend.