What?

       I think this year has been even worse than 2024. Or at least I know I've been getting my ass kicked since then. In 2024 I had kidney stones and a neighborhood bomb scare. In 2025, the most genuine friendship I ever had ended ridiculously and then I got sick.
      And this year? Well, my December sickness lasted until January, so I include it when I say that I've been sick four times this year. That's right, I'm sick again; hopefully getting better by now. And, Floor Jansen left Nightwish last month, after saying she "could never do that." Could never, meaning it's never crossed her mind and the idea is silly.

      Now, I get it. She wants to be original and try new things. Normally I wouldn't mind at all. Just not after "never." Never, ever after "never." It's hypocritical.

      I can't get over it yet. I will, but right now I don't even want to listen to her covers. I miss listening to her amazing voice, but I just feel burned and lost right now. I wish I could feel nothing like usual, but their music, her voice, was the reason I found for not ending it all. I wanted to hear new songs, I wanted that hope of one day attending a concert. They were beautiful, they were perfect. It sucked enough when Marko left, but I had Floor and Tuomas and Troy....

      I'm hoping they consider Floor's sister, but no. That won't happen. In fact, with my "luck," I'll probably get sick again and then lose my computer.

      Today was alright. Renewed my ID and that other one and then had pizza. I think now I'll grab some water or pop or something and go watch one of my favorite YouTubers' reaction videos. If I fall asleep and spill everywhere, c'est la vie.

Dreambabble

       This morning, I had a dream that is probably the grand prize winner of weird; Shrek was in his ogre form and Fiona was in her human form, but it took place between Shrek 1 and 2. It happened in Far Far Away; he was complaining to her that he wanted to "make things work." Then he remembered the Fairy Godmother, as it so happens in the movie, and he said something to the effect of, "That'll make him love me," and then I used the alien voice from Toy Story 3, when they call Mr. Potato Head "Daddy!" and made everyone laugh....probably because my dream self was more embarrassed than funny.

      Yeah. Weird. And at this point I can't remember ever having dreamed about Shrek before. I know I haven't incorporated Toy Story, so that's a first. Makes me wonder what I ate. I've been avoiding the melatonin gummies for a few days, and I think tonight's the night; been going hard for awhile, just going downtown, going downtown, walking, walking. I don't just need sleep; I need rest, too, I need to take a day.

      In other news, someone else gave me the stinkeye and wouldn't look away, wouldn't even blink, so I'm starting to wonder if I have a target on my back. Or at least a sign that says, "I'm a horrible person!" LOL. All I want right now is a long, hot soak with soft music and dim lighting. I need to rest my eyes, my brain, and every muscle in the human body. I need the external noise to stop, I need the internal noise to stop, and I need to stop having fun and start acting old. I know how it sounds, but I'm so tired.

      This fun isn't fun anyway. These little pretend parties where I have snacks and watch movies. It's just starting to hurt, and it's all I have.

      Well, I don't have any gentle music, but I can do the rest. Well, here's the good news; yesterday I bought a dress. It's kind of weird; I think it's red flowers or something on brown fabric, but it fits me. Short sleeves, comfortable, but it makes me self-conscious, and a really long hem. It may be brown and red, but it's cute, maybe too cute for me, but I think I can get away with it if I put on a sweater or manage one day to stop caring what people think.

DDD

       I checked out Drop Dead Diva, out of sheer boredom. I can imagine it playing in someone's Hell Loop. The premise is alright; a woman dies, wakes up in someone else's body, and has to learn how to be her, which is Lucifer's mother to a T. After that, the dialogue is absolute brainrot. It made me miss Little House On The Prairie. Which I've also been peeking at out of sheer boredom, and I found some funny blunders; Laura says she has four siblings when she only has two, Mary and Carrie. And Caroline's mother calls her mother a "him," in literally the same sentence as "my mother." If someone accidentally finds my blog in 30 years and wants to check it out, it's "A Most Precious Gift."

      Yeesh. Speaking of brainrot! I think I need to go watch some Walking Dead, right flipping now. I so miss having all those streaming services. Between Little House, Drop Dead Diva, and The Joy Of Painting, I'm about to lose my mind.

      I mean, painting's a cool talent. If you can make beautiful stuff, if it's an outlet, good for you. But really, what's the point? Wouldn't you rather go to a place, and see it, and feel it, and smell it, than look at a little picture and think, "I wish I was there?" I mean, do something useful with that talent and pretty up an ugly town; paint those scenes on a decrepit brown building so we can smile when we look at it. "Look at this awesome building, right here in my town."

...

       The good news is, yesterday I dreamed of my favorite singer again. The concert recording in my dream was 99% the same as it is in real life, except for the last few seconds; in my dream she took a little longer to catch her breath. That was the only difference; everything else, everything, was perfect.

      And then I dreamed of getting bullied, and in my dream, anything goes....so, I strung them up to the ceiling, hauled an elephant-sized alligator into the room, and let him jump at them and snap his gigantic teeth below them like Shrek 4 Dragon. And yes, I am just thinking of that comparison now.

      I haven't gone out much since that day. Joy walks have been cut down to zero, with little temptation to start up again. Not because it was so bad, but because it could have been worse. They could have yelled, "That's the woman who broke into my house!" or something.

      I hate people. I hate getting randomly attacked online, I hate feeling like everybody is out to get me. I was already trying to not be my old, self-conscious, pessimistic self who thought every single person was thinking of how ugly I am, and every plane that went by was a war plane, and every car that drove past would do a drive-by, and every person I walked past on the sidewalk would push me onto the street.... I mean, that fear has never gone away, but I was actually doing much better.

      It was probably no big deal for her, just a cry for attention, but every bad interaction scars me. Last night, I made several enemies online without saying a word. What is it about people? What is wrong with people? I reiterate, 8.3 billion people, and nobody is kind. Well, except for that woman at the cashier, who was grateful I held up a pack of gum and accidentally reminded her to buy some, and the street preacher, probably only because I was kind to her. If I'd said, "Sorry, I'm an atheist," she probably would've given me grief, too. Gosh, in today's world, she probably would've turned it into a racial thing.

      I mean, I'm not a pansy or anything. I don't regret the loss of my 3-year-5-month relationship, but I wasn't the one who ended it over something so trivial that I overlooked my partner's perfectly valid reason for having her position on the matter. This Halloween will mark the one-year "anniversary" of our split, and I'm really okay. I didn't think I would be, but thank god, I still feel nothing. Except confusion, I do feel that. Wondering what everyone's problem is. "Grown women shouldn't walk around practically naked when there's children everywhere," what is so unforgiveable about saying that? I bet my left arm, my writing hand, he would've felt differently if it was his kid. Just because it wasn't.... Fine. I'm a bitch, a truly terrible person, because after seeing a certain physical feature when I was a little girl, I don't think other children should be at risk of an indecent flash. But of course he didn't consider that, consider my reasons, for a moment. Whatever.

      It's better this way. Christ, maybe I should just give up on friend-making. I keep saying it; no good people. I should listen to myself. And I am tempted to delete all my social medias, but I wasn't approached on Facebook (for awhile). I wasn't approached on dA, where I still have one friend. Sort of. We chat every few days, sometimes he says something I dislike, but he hasn't been a prick. And we've been speaking for a little over two years. On Facebook, people keep saying, "Message me," then don't respond when I do, or they say, "Can I message you?" and they don't if I say yes. In the case of Daniel, we spoke, we got along, he expressed interest, then he ghosted me. So....whatever. People suck. Pretty sure this guy on dA is not an outlier, but we'll see. Hell, maybe outliers exist.

Hopeful

       I'm on these new gummies (the safe, legal, kids-can-reach-them kind) to help me sleep. Melatonin, I think. I hope they're as good as I think they are. I've taken them twice, and I've had deeper sleep with better dreams. No bears, no spiders, no violent deaths, just Olivia Wilde and a fortune. I was actually disappointed to wake up for a reason other than, "I need more."
      Well, I do need more, I'll always need more. Unless it is just a symptom of depression or...something else. But I will take these good dreams and deeper sleep for as long as I can.

Attacked?

       So I made the mistake of going out today. Two people were walking towards me, away from the store I was going to, and naturally I skirted around them, because no one ever does that for me and someone has to be courteous. All of a sudden the girl (or at least the one I could tell was a girl) gets in my face. "Really?" she says, "You're showing your face after f***ing my dad?"

      I happen to be a virgin, so I tell her I don't know her or her dad and keep walking. "Really? You're just going to walk away?" I ignore it, I don't even look back. I go in the store, do my shopping, and sit on the bench outside because it's a long walk, and I have to walk home; on two busted ankles, nerve damage on the bottoms of my feet, and multiple organs saying, "Nope! I can't do this anymore."
      Well, by then these people have followed me to the store, and they get in my face again, insisting I f***ed her dad. I keep telling her I don't know her, I don't know her dad, they have the wrong person, but they won't let it go. Then she says, "Give me your umbrella," and I refuse, because I'm starting to think she'll beat me with it, right? Next she tells me, "You just missed out on $10,000. We're influencers," and then she demands I kiss her boot and say "I'm a good little who**." When I decline, she decides to move on to my appearance; she noticed the pop in my purse and said I was big enough. Then they latch onto the word "sl*t." Again, I'm a virgin. In fact a prude.

      At this point they've been in my face for about 10 minutes altogether, and I'm freaked. So I wait for them to leave, I start heading home, and who do you think I see? Now there's people all over the place, and there they are, screaming profanities at me.

      So humiliating. I was kind of shaken up, but mostly annoyed. Life is hard enough. A bad heart, bad kidneys, bad lungs, and a brain problem are....what, inadequate? It wasn't much better than when my idiot stepfather decided to yell, "R*pe! Help, r*pe!"
      Anyway, I just needed to vent. I'd been looking for inspiration to become a shut-in all over again, and I think I have it. Now, I could look at this as someone out there actually thinking people are willing to touch me and I should be grateful. Or, I could think, why does she care so much if her father is sleeping around? So what? Maybe that's how you were given life, sunshine. And if he's so dishonest about it, why defend him?

      I don't know. I'm still kind of in shock. I think if I'd handled it any different, they might've beaten me. I remained calm, I didn't say anything I regret, and I walked away. Three times. But now, I'm going to be thinking of it whenever I have to leave the house. I really think I've found my inspiration to hide myself away like I used to and maybe even be okay with it again.

Dreambabble

       I dreamed that I was singing one of my favorite songs, with my favorite singer, which makes twice! So I started my day well. It wasn't a perfect dream, because instead of just rocking out, we were also trying to escape the people throwing axes and stuff at us. Way too much Walking Dead, I guess. So there we are, trying not to give away our positions, and we start belting D6, which believe me, is more impossible than actually meeting her one day.

      Hah. Awesome. I really just want to dream of singing with her every night. Preferably without the added psychos, but I'll take it.

      So twice with Floor, and once with Jeffrey Dean Morgan in a planetarium. How can I go from forgetting relatives' names, forgetting they exist, forgetting how to use scissors――to having the most incredible dream?

      The mind is a mysterious thing, I guess....