FML...

       Ugh. This past week has been yucky...and I tried to be upbeat after the whole kidney thing. I was on cloud nine, actually, for a week. A whole week of joy.
      What can I say? Depression's a bitch. It hit hard again in early August, and I think I'm probably worse off now than before the stones. I cannot get it out of my head, you guys. The intense pain, the vomiting. Being too sore to puke without crying. That was the worst time of my life, and I probably have some nerve to complain now. But...yuck, I can't help it.

      Oh, ick. I've never been able to use "Down in the dumps" literally before. But in the past week or so, the toilet sometimes will refuse to flush. Gross. And I don't know what's worse, that, or what appears to be a spider infestation on our hands. Of course I'm the only one who sees the spiders and has any toilet trouble whatsoever. No, really... I keep asking and asking, and no. Everything's fucking perfect for everybody else. So now I want to shell out for a handyman only I think we need, I haven't slept in my room yet because I tried killing a spider and missed―oh, yeah, my aim lately is horrible and I've been having this whole big thing with my balance where every time I stand by the bathtub, I nearly fall into it. Goddamn, it's happened like five times this month! I mean, I missed the damn thing by a hair, he fell between the wall and my pillow, ew. And now I'm boycotting my bedroom because I don't want him crawling into my nose! I'm also freaking out every time I feel a hair on my skin. I was able to sit through two episodes of Lucifer on my bed, but only because there are spiders everywhere, it seems, so it doesn't really matter where I go, it seems!

      I'm used to being the only one who can see, and I swear, hear, the spiders. But god, normally there aren't this many. Two here, two there, one over there. Gah. Of all the phobias in the world, you know? I could have been afraid of sharp edges, or the moon, apparently. But no. Something I can't just baby-proof, something that can never leave the sky, something that has legs, maybe venom, something that's all over the planet, all the time, everywhere, never sleeping.

      I mean, obviously, I prefer this hell over the hell that was July. But why must I endure any hell? I ain't dead yet...and no, that doesn't mean I lost my mind and found gawd. Or, as my atheist group likes to wonder, Jod. Soft G.

      I'm just losing my mind over here. Both of my phobias right now are out of control. This toilet thing would be so much easier if everybody was affected. At least then we'd fucking discuss fucking getting a fucking handyman!!! I don't want to eat something disagreeable and then break the toilet. Oh, I'm squeamish just thinking about it. And in the words of a cartoon character I wish I could forget, "How can I not think about it when I'm thinking about not thinking about it?!"

      I think I'm just going to start my Sims 3 again, but even that's messed up. My brother tried doing a nice thing, hooking up a large monitor a friend gave us, but it was too big for me. I'm a hobbyist writer, not a good one, but when I started typing, the size 11 font was so big, I could see the reds, yellows, and blues in the text that normally just looks black. Gaming was awesome, but I enjoyed it just fine before the transfer and writing became an instant no-go. So we transferred back, but my game settings are now all screwed up, even with all the correct options. So, we tried instead to hook it up as a TV in my room. Didn't like the tinny audio, transferred back, and now my old DVD player makes noises it didn't make before.

      I mean, everything sucks. Hell, even my brother freaked out when he sat on the couch and a spider jumped into his lap, and he loves spiders. Keeps them as pets, but apparently this one was too big. Me, I freak out at a spider the size of a pinpoint, okay? I'd seriously rather die than see a spider big enough to freak him out.

      But I am in the process of writing more crappy books that no one gives a shit about and created more music that I can't finish, so, silver linings. Honestly, I am just clinging to videos of people reacting to Floor Jansen and buying treats, which is probably what gave me the stones in the first place. Live in the moment, right? Live each day like you'll die tomorrow? If I had my way, I'd be lying on a beach, listening to the waves and stargazing. That has been my happy place for many years. I've been to the pool a couple times in my childhood, but I didn't learn how to swim, so I'd just stay in the shallow end and hang onto the edge while I kicked my feet. Pseudo-swimming, I guess! And I've been to White Rock once, or at least, almost once. I was four years old, maybe two feet tall, trying to get past rocks taller than me. The beach seems a mile away and I'm holding onto the slimy hand of my nose-picking stepfather who never, ever, ever, ever, ever used soap! I could feel every yucky thing he ever touched all his life. That sound like a vacation to you?

      No...myself...it doesn't. But I guess there is kindness out there. Three times now, in almost nine years, a girl child has been polite to me! The first one held the door open for me and actually said "You're welcome" when I thanked her. The second one apologized to me in the sweetest voice for being forced to stand close to me on the bus because none of the many, many adults she was riding with didn't offer to put her in their lap where she'd be safe, so damn rude, that was in early August when I got my last stent out. And the most recent time was yesterday evening, when a little girl said hello to me as I passed by her family on the sidewalk.

      Throw in the boy who waved at me because he thought I was his friend, presumably a boy, thank you very much, and that has been my social life since...well, almost all my life, unless I count taxi and bus drivers. I probably will, just to make the list seem longer. Lately I have been walking a mile, rain or shine, bad boots or bad shoes, to sit on a bench and just people-watch. That's actually where the boy waved at me. And no, I'm not having romantic thoughts; he was a kid. What can I say? I'm short, and was hidden under my hood. Maybe I was sitting where they said they'd meet... I don't know.

      But yeah. I think I'm going to go to the pet store sometime. I haven't held a cat since 2009. She got run over, so no silver lining there. But animals are therapeutic, they say, and I'm so miserable I could...really stand to hold something I'm allergic to.

      I guess the best news of late is that I finally updated my creepy collection. I'm up to ten, I think, skulls and now a snake cup! Not for use, just for decoration. And I finally got stylish hair clips. I can't properly fix them myself, but at least I...own them? Score?

      But yeah, I guess the best thing I ever saw is still that boy who disappeared into a sunflower from the shoulders up. He did not want to come out! So sweet. Long as he's not allergic; if I tried that it'd kill me. Huh, deathflowers. Oh, yeah...The Sims 3. Really don't feel like it; I want to just go to sleep. I've gotten maybe three hours of sleep this week. Nightmare, every time―well, almost. Amenadiel intro-ducing himself as Lucifer before I became a hunky warrior and then a beautiful woman was decidedly not a nightmare. I love dreams where I'm beautiful...until I wake up again.

      Maybe I'll just listen to music. Here. Because my headphones are dead. For like the millionth time in a year. Is everything crap? Really?

      Nah, maybe I'll play after all. Or, fuck, I don't know. Just want to go to a beach one more time before I'm dead forever, one time that lasts more than two hours, one time where it's night, and I can see one of my favorite things; the night sky. And hear waves that aren't coming from my crappy MP3. Maybe I'll just download videos of the night sky, slap it over the ocean sounds I already downloaded, and just pretend. I don't get to do a lot of that as a grownup.

      I hate being a grownup. I'm as tall as I'll ever be, I know very well my full potential, nobody comes over for play dates anymore, there's no dessert if I eat all my supper, I have to wear bras, and I'm expected to do all these things I want to run screaming from, like kill spiders. Please, can't I be a little girl again? Or at least tall and thin, surprise me. Fat and rich? Old and wise? Anything.

      Oh, here's a bright side! My brother just noticed the bathroom sink isn't draining. Everything's falling apart, but at least it's finally affecting others. Goodie. See, I'm not completely insane! I may be getting there, but I haven't run out of road yet.

      My stepfather tried setting me up on a play date once. He walked up to some kids and invited them into our house. Hello? You can't do that, you creep! Of course they ran screaming from him. They knew about stranger danger. Hell yeah, they knew. Can't imagine it would be less creepy if I tried it myself. Well, I know what I'm doing on Halloween; turning off my light and standing at the window, watching all the trick-or-treaters like every other year. I don't expect anyone will knock. Why? Because people are still, and will forever be, cautious around our house, thanks to that idiot tenant. I mean, hey, more candy for me, but I can just see it. I finally meet a nice local person, we bond, we like each other, they find out where I live, boom. It's done. Ghosted, again. I should dress up as a ghost. I should always dress up as a ghost, embrace what I am. I literally talk and no one hears me, in fact it just happened again!

      Ugh. I wish I could say I'm cranky because I'm sleep-deprived, but no amount of sleep is going to help me. I always wake up tired! Even if I nearly OD on sleep meds and have the best night of my life, I'm friggin exhausted. Eyes burning, mind playing tricks. I miss the days when I had no idea what a hallucination was like. Now I spend my life in a goddamn stupor and I don't drink or do drugs, not even medicinal drugs. Tylenol, sure, Benadryl. Nothing more. And, just, so hazy, all the time. It takes an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to put on my bra, or hold scissors. Then I get mad because it should be so easy. Then people tell me to relax, and I get more pissed because I suddenly can't hold scissors and they're calm? Yeah, let's see how calm you are when you cannot figure out how to cut hair, okay?

      Ugh. FML. I have to go do something. I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to go do it. YouTube typically sucks me in real deep and then I move onto Facebook and then gaming, so it'll probably be that, but this is getting too long. Nobody's listening anyway. Listening, reading, whatever. Potato, potahto. An entire universe, an empty room. What's the difference?