talking to Evie for a few hours this morning was much needed. i had been craving one on one interaction with her. i like her.

i don’t know what to write or what to say. i know nick has something to show L, which is cool. i’m just kind of walking around, alone. and its okay. i dont feel a need to whine, or remind myself to enjoy it. i’m just in it, i’m taking it all in. it’s nice to live this way. i wonder whose fault this is. thank you, whoever it was. L, self, god. someone. anyone. i need to thank someone.

it’s almost sad how excited i get when L wakes up and texts me in the morning. she’s writing about what Adam has told her, what Nick presented so far, etc. i don’t want to keep her and i think i really need to write. maybe. i don’t know anything. anything i thought i knew, that’s out the window. the beauty of it, is it’s so much fun. i haven’t felt like i was having fun in a long time. these people, you all, my pain in the ass dog even.

the world is becoming to me what L has been since before i knew her; an effortless blessing.

parents will be home tomorrow evening. i’m excited to see how their stress, as it slowly comes back, affects me. i’m scared to find out what Adam and Brad and Clyde and whoever else comes here thinks of them. i can see my mother’s presence alone driving anyone away. that’s what’s happened with others. i have a feeling that this is going to be entirely different. when they come home, things are going to be entirely different. the routine will be the same, but i will feel different. this basement will feel different.

i had an idea this morning and mentioned it to Eve but buried it and decided to come back to it when i’m a little more clear headed. or when i know a little more. or a little less. anyway. the idea was, what if my seizures started so i would be able to find you all? i’ve wanted an answer to why for seven years, and if you all are the answer, then i will seize on the asphalt and foam at the mouth proudly.

i’ve got troubled thoughts and the self esteem to match, what a catch. what catch.

wait a minute. substitute by frank turner. that’s what i hear when i think of nick. music is his substitute for love, isn’t it? why do i care? why do i care? why? great. more why’s. i associate nick with music and a fucking accent, theres my goddamn why. i need to get him out of my head. who says? i say. why? because, i’m in charge. no you’re not. fuck. i knew it. oh well. cigarette anyone? my entire pack flies out.

i need a constant recorded reminder of L’s voice telling me that i’m not a fucking nutcase. ha. speak of the devil. there she is. i swear she knows when i want her around the most, right when i’m about to blow up from having to leave her alone.
 

hm. i suddenly feel very alone. Adam scolded me for letting the half and half sit out in room temperature. ‘will you PLEASE put that back in the refrigerator before it spoils?’ I know L is working, i know Evie is working. my stepsister is here, but she’s not here. she’s a few days ahead of me. i’m craving a nap and i’m not even tired. i changed from really worn and dirty clothes into semi worn and not very dirty at all clothes. the sun is out, but i’m not appreciating it right now. i want to go in the basement. badly. i have some dishes to wash. nothing huge. why so down? i don’t know. just am. it’ll pass, or alter, or something. i don’t even feel down. i just feel, by myself. that’s not what i want. i want someone to sit with me. i’m going into the basement, i’ll continue my bitching when i get situated.

well, this is about as situated as its going to get for now. modest mouse is playing, bukowski. i’m in the basement, considering taking my meds very early. maybe even extra. self-destruction, again. why? i know i need a third party, so what is it that’s making me want to hurt myself? i know what it is and i’m afraid to say it. i’m so afraid to say it. i’m afraid it makes me sound weak. but i know that honesty is so much more important than strength. intention means everything. i can’t.. i don’t know how to say it. i felt Clyde stop by my porch before i decided how miserable i was. he told me he couldn’t stay and that when L works, she works. L is not the third party for my self-destruction, and that is solely because Clyde reminded me that she is never very far from me. i have to know that. and i do know that. Adam scolded me, but i haven’t felt anyone or anything since. i’m starting to blame myself. i’m starting to think that i’m whiny. i know other people have other things to do. i’m aware of that, my logic knows that i can’t sit here and have all of these people at my beck and call. my dreams want to be real. i want my dreams to be real. whatever is left of my dreams.

i don’t feel hopeless. i don’t feel scared, i don’t feel lonely. well. a little lonely. so how do i fix this? well. i’m not sure. so i suppose i can lay here and wait for the answer. i don’t have anywhere else to be. i’m still self destructive. i still want substances. i want to not feel. but. i love feeling. what am i feeling that is making me so mad at myself?

i want to self destruct because i’m wanting to cry out for attention. but i’m not doing that. i refuse. i don’t want any type of energy showing up here out of pity.

i spoke to L on the phone. more hours have passed. she brings something out in me. it was sweet, she almost did the big brother check concerning the boys and my intentions. she told me about the one girl who stayed the longest, i can’t bring myself to type her name. what i bring into this world, what’s been created, will stay. i made it clear to her and i hope to whoever was listening that my intentions are pure. as pure as they can be for someone as tainted as i am. she believes me. i have to call chris shortly, which i hope will be a short phone call. i’ll be going to bed early but not terribly early.

i want to write a letter to Nick, and i have no idea where to start. hm. another pot of coffee is brewing. Clyde discovered how comfy the couch in my living room is. he isn’t there now, but i’m sure he’ll be there again. Nick keeps hiding in that damn corner. i don’t feel Adam, and i don’t believe i feel Brad. they’re hard to distinguish and sometimes i think they act like one another, or maybe come as a group so i can’t differentiate.

coffee and cigarettes.

hi nick.

nick,

dear nick,

nick. where in the flying fuck do i start. hm. i wonder where everyone is.

i’ve been spending a lot of time sitting on the foot of L’s bed. i can picture the wall where the head of the bed is, but i’m having a hard time seeing much else. maybe i’ll curl up there until i fall asleep. i’m not really tired yet though. i think i’m having a hard time because my brain is tired but my mind is running. i think they’re two separate things. the meds make me sleepy but the anxiety wakes me up. my brain and my mind. faulty wiring and overemotional battling it out. lovely. i miss L. Clyde seems more insistent on reminding me that L is not gone. she’s here. she’s with me. i need to close my eyes and stop thinking and feel her. feel all of this. maybe i’m too busy to thinking to notice when others are around half the time.

more hours have passed. i think i’m waiting on a 20 bag tonight, which would be exciting. i’m drinking iced coffee and most important of all, i wrote something to nick. it wasn’t a letter, wasn’t anything special but it was honest. i hope he likes it.

not at all what i expected to happen, happened. i got a quick, and very kind response from Nick. He even texted me for a short while. he told me about Brad. i want Brad to come to me. i want to feel him. Nick told me that Brad doesnt like to be seen, he thinks i’ll hate him. or everyone will hate him.

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