transition—yet again

we are getting ready to move again. long long story i’ll publish when i’m not feeling so depressed. but it looks like it’s back into the heart of the beast for us. bring it on, bitches

jail mail

w hile i was in prison all fucking summer, i actually realized how lucky i really am. my man had the phone on the first week, i got mail like 3 times a week, my canteen wasn’t always stacked, but i always got a couple of things; and a few times i spent like 50 bucks on swiss rolls, nutty bars, and chico stix. (some of you get the reference, i’m sure)

not only was i only doing  a 60d bid, but my jail life was hooked the fuck up, compared to some girls. some girls had no family, no money on their books, no one to  call, no money to call regardless, always having to locker-stalk, asking for coffee or something sweet. it was sad, and pathetic at the same time. i could never say no, i gave soups to chicks i still can’t name.  that could’ve been my damn puertorican pop tart later (split a ramen soup in half, toast until golden brown, spread with mayo, and put the seasoning on top) i know what you’re thinking, but don’t knock it til you try it, kids.

but not only the money shit. i was blessed by the gods with my roomates. in both of mycellblocked i had the coolest, funniest, most solid chicks you could imagine. i was never alone unless i wanted to be. and not just my friends either, i got along with the whole unit. i guess i’m just a gregarious person, you know.

so now that i’m back on the outside, i spend like 40% of my time sending jail mail. cuz i know what it feels like to have noone on the outside that gives a shit.  and i will not be that fucking girl. i will write to anyone that needs a little love and attention, and i wont stop til they wrap. my best friend nikki just got 2 & a day mando, and i will write without end until the day i pick her up outside that godforsaken hellhole.

wouldn’t you want a solid friend like that if it were you?

frustration

my heart beats and pounds against my ribs

my stomach turns, i’m going to be sick

my head pounds with thoughts and feeling i can’t control

madness, insanity, pain, misery, nothingness

but i want it so bad

nothingness….numbness….emptyness

sad words, but good feelings

when you live inside a head like mine

my own worst enemy

can’t ever escape this shit

memories, complexes, disorders

it never ends

until i put that needle in my arm

then i’m no longer the bipolar

clinically depressed

ADD case nobody wants to deal with

i’m just a quiet junky sitting on the steps

drinking a rockstar and talking about movies

no more rape flashbacks

no more dreams of beatings

and when someone insults me or treats me

like shit

i dont give a fuck

you can’t hurt my feelings

cuz i have none

i’m trapped in this cage of frustration

caught between two worlds

neither outcome is good for me

it’s just a matter of which way i go

 

sweet dreams

at the end of my rope and ready to tie the nuse

things are bad. things are very bad.  i have been self medicating for so long i totally forgot i was clinically depressed and suicidal, bipolar and filled with acute anxiety and panic….not to mention add to the gills. can it get any worse? yes, it can, because i am on the streets and off drugs and all this shit is hitting me full force in a way i never thought possible. i am writing this in a manic mess that will ultimatley crash into a suicidal low. and i’m really not sure how it’s all gonna end. all i wanna do is be numb and forget all this pain and hate and depression and guilt and shame to just fade away. and i have no insurance and now hospital and no clinic and no psych meds, and i just want some fucking relief before i slit my wrist from thumb to elbow. god help me.

random thoughts

pool shark- sublime

lying in my plastic bed
thinking how things weren’t so
cool to me
my baby likes to shoot pool
i like lying naked in my bedroom
tying off that dinasour tonight
it used to be so cool
now i’ve got the needle

and i can shake, but i can’t bleed

take it away

but i want more and more

one day i’m gonna lose the war

have you ever been so obsessed with another person, that they are all you can think about. you see them everywhere, you hear their voice is the supermarket. you see their face in your dreams…thats how it is with me and drugs. i can’t sleep at night because i have such vivid drug dreams i wake up sweating and crying. then i’m up for the rest of thie night….obsessing. i watch really fuct up scarry movies to try and take my mind off it. i’m watching PI right now. i highly recommend it. *no pun intended* hehe.  but honestly. i wonder sometimes what’s going to happen to me, because no matter what i do, meetings, sponsors, detox, programs, and now prison. nothing works. all i wanna do is push all these stupid feelings down and just be numb. numb is the best “emotion” i have ever experienced. after all the pain and abuse and regret and being let down, left behind, stepped on and stepped over, numb is a gift of the goddess that i will gladly take in a syringe full of blissful ignorance again and again. even the pain is worth is. anything worth anything has pain involved. war, love, raising children, so why should addiction be any different? i know i must sound crazy, but this is myspace, all you motherfuckers are chock full-o-nuts, so who gives a shit. all i know is that there are few things in life that give me any kind of relief anymore. ernie has been one of them for a long time, but now he’s on my case too, about change and getting better, when he doesn’t understand, i’ll never be better. if it’s not the drugs, it’s the buliemic bullshit, if not that, i get violent. i am clinically depressed, some say bipolar, and now another doctor is saying add. at least i can stock up on meds. ha., but what i’m saying is that ernie used to love me just the way i am, super fuct up and hopeless….now he wants a real girl. and i’m just made of wood. another source of comfort for me used to be my family. but my mother is so full of her own life now, and all she thinks i care about is money. so i try to send texts that send my love, but i think she thinks it’s all a game. and my littlest brother is 16, and we all know what that means, he’s got his own life now, and i was such a dissapointment to him, i’m lucky he’ll even go to the biscuits show with me. and i love him so much.  and i don’t even want to talk about my brother kyle. he reminds me of my father so much. giving up the love we share as family for an abusive CUNT that uses his daughter against him as leverage. and even if i do ever get clean, she won’t let me see the baby, cuz she see’s me as taking attention away from her. selfish bitch. let me catch her on the street. i never thought, after all we’d been through growing up, he’d throw it all away on some numb dirty pussy. i hope she reads this shit, that nosy whore. my brothers are everything to me. and now they are gone, and all i have left is the numbness.

ernie is snoring in the bed next to me, as i type this at 418 am. i love him so much, and i feel so bad because i can’t be the person he wants me to be. and to be honest, i don’t know how long his “sobriety” shit is going to last, epsecially if i keep obsessing the way i am. i don’t want to bring him down, but i can’t help it. it’s all i think about, all i dream about, all i talk about. it’s completely insane. the insidious disease that i carry in my dna. god truely blessed me.

fresh out the pen, kids

its late and i haven’t been sleeping, so this trazadone should kick my ass with all these xanicandies i’m on. just wanted to let yall in on a lil tidbit. i spent mysummer at camp mci framingham, in good old massachusetts. *where i’m from, silly rabbit* so i haven’t been avoiding writing, or super crazy strung out, just locked up. the fun never ends, huh? i’ll write more soon, my man scored a sweet new laptop. we wont ask how. heheheh. gotta love that thug life.