I just went face to face with the most cunning spider I’ve ever met. His life hung by a thread, swinging to scale the walls of my bathroom sliding doors. I attempted to kill him more times than I’ve ever had to attempt before. His name was Antoine and I outwitted him.
Let’s hope his children didn’t see, if there are any.
Take my photo off the wall
If it just won’t sing for you
‘Cause all that’s left has gone away
And there’s nothing there for you to prove
Jet - Look What You’ve Done
My clinical depression has partially gotten better. I’ve too many stories, which one do you want to hear? Take a seat, I’ll tell you anything. I have lost enough to know there’s nothing more to lose or hide. With this comes the overused, great warning to never expect anything, because it will only result in disappointment should some kind of failure be involved. I’ll always have my guard up, because every time I begin to trust, people time after time prove they are not worthy. So if I have terrific news, I know not to expect more out of it, fearing that it won’t get any better than that. Fearing that it will all get ripped out from under me like the many other rugs I’ve built some foundation on.
What is the reason behind the need of having a “best friend”, whether it be a fellow human being, a pet rock, or the unicorn in the backyard that no one else can see but you? Forsooth, in life you need a companion by your side to help you when times are hard, when you have this craving to feast on a hug’s width of junk food while watching old foreign films, when you just want someone to be there listening to you ramble on about your day as if it was really interesting.
I knew when I eventually got around to refreshing my room, that I’d have to take down this giant collage of a 5 year friendship adorned on my wall. I never wanted to. It meant I would actually have to say goodbye to it. Out of sight, out of mind… right? A bystander can easily say, “get over it.” It’s been more than a year now since then, and I’m still very unwillingly sensitive about it. I wasted my time, putting in so much effort, trusting blindly that at the end of a wired cup, my friend would be there just for the sake of being there. Walking in on her with another friend she considers my replacement, about cut me like a poisoned knife. I didn’t hurt so much at first, but the poison fully traveled throughout my body, and I had the strangest aftertaste. No antidote. It’s no one’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. It’s… no one’s fault.
We grew apart, and I wish it just ended there, but I’m still recovering. Why does it have to take so long? It didn’t kill me, so it’s making me stronger? What a load of -
I just feel so weak. Please go away, resting hand tremors.
My 4-year-old nephew is watching this random show on Cartoon Network.
Character 1: Are you making me seem like a fool?!
Character 2: You don’t need me to look like a fool.
Mother’s Day was actually today for me and my mother. 3 hours of her, for the first time, paying attention and listening to me talk. Thank you God, for the calm after a very big storm.
You said you didn’t know what you were doing,
but you did it like a pro.