A Dream From Hell

       I had the weirdest dream a few hours ago. A wolf-like creature was circling my family and me on the road. Its eyes were red, and its teeth shone with fresh blood. Its spine poked out of its back.
      My mother got out of the car. I grabbed a flashlight; it was insanely bright and had a flashing mode. I shone it at the creature, blinding and scaring it. It ran away, leaving my family to chastise my mother. And then I woke up.
      This is actually a good dream, because any other night, it would have torn the flesh off her bones.

I Need To Talk About Death

       So I got talking with this guy, and over the past few months I learned he lost someone. He said she's in a better place. The topic turned to suicide and I said I happen to think of it on occasion (well, almost every day and night, but I'm trying this whole new positivity thing) and he told me not to. So now, my dear nonexistent readers, I'm truly confused. Why is it okay for someone he loves to be in a better place, but not a stranger? Hell, if someone thinks of me as a friend, why would they ask me to extend my suffering as a favor to them? And then, plot twist, celebrate me getting older. Even laughing at those "Under the hill" cards.

      I mean, instead of freaking out about my suicide talk, what I really want is for someone to give me some clarity. Just clarity, that's all I want in life. Death is not a horrifying, repulsive subject like having a crush on your dad, okay? It's a natural freaking part of life! Don't people get that?

      Told me not to, like I can just wish it all away on a dandelion fluff. "Don't do it," the most convincing argument I've ever heard. Why is it okay for her suffering to end, but not mine? I'm a good person. I never retaliated when someone hurt me, I never tattled on that kid who tried to trip me in class, never got detention, never got grounded. Why shouldn't I be able to take away the pain when medication and therapy have failed?

      Is death gruesome? Yes... But let's be real. I have multiple organ failure. I'd much rather go out on my own terms. And I'd want the people who say they love me to prove it and accept that, instead of asking me to endure everything on their behalf. I am tired of having a charity existence! It is cruel to ask someone to keep living! It is the most hateful thing you can say to someone! I am so tired of being asked to suffer for as long as I can "because I love you." Just stop with that! Freaking stop with the manipulations.

      Our feelings are more transient than we are, and we are so inconsequential. Everybody dies and life goes on. We get over it, so get over it. I'm suicidal, take it or leave it. It's a quirk, like the weirdoes who like getting up early or going shoe-shopping, or who think getting pregnant on a planet with over 150 million orphans, is a "blessing."

      Clarity. Clarity on all the hypocrisy―please!

Upon Reflection...

       Man, I love my new TV! It's like, how did I have a heavy, giant TV for so long? Especially since the TV was so much bigger than the screen itself, so it took up a lot of space and the characters were still small. Kind of pathetic, really... Really, I can't believe I haven't had this one all my life.
      And, I hate to admit it, but I also really like short hair. I never thought I would say it, never thought I would want it. Believe it or not, my dear nonexistent readers, my long (knee-) length hair was the only reason anyone would acknowledge me...at least in a positive way. They either hold the door for me, which is only a common courtesy, or they give me the death stare like they want to take my life right there in the lineup. But when it was long, they would fawn over it and I felt special.

      But, it never helped me make friends, so I figured, what the hell? I was only comfortable when it was braided or I clipped it up in a claw, which kept breaking under the weight of my hair. Stupid cheap things. So, snip-snip, now it's shoulder-ish length and yeah, I love it. Actually I'm thinking about getting another cut, because since December last year, it's actually grown a lot...and I'm starting to shed like mad again. I try to comb it just a little, pull out a fistful. Turns out, nope, that is not for me... It's kind of stressful.

      How did I go all those years pulling hair out of my head? And pulling it out of my pants? I love long hair but it is so not worth it!

      I'm actually thinking maybe a little longer than chin-length, so pigtails or a ponytail would be kind of cute. Maybe not with my mug, but I remember it used to make me feel like a perky waitress. I kind of liked that, too, feeling perky.

...

       A few nights ago, while watching Lucifer, my DVD player crashed on me...again. It normally goes into Standby mode or whatever when you don't interact with it enough, but it didn't do that even after half an hour. I couldn't even shut the TV off. I thought it was dead and I wanted my disk, so I tried breaking it open (and only succeeded in breaking off the cover for the tray) by myself because everyone else was sleeping. Well, this month we had more money than usual, so my brother told me, "You're getting a flat screen that can hook up to Netflix."
      I cannot wait. I mean, I can, because I'm unfortunately patient, but I am excited. I get to watch new shows, new movies, in my bedroom. Which means I can watch the movies that I own but can't see, too! For some reason they have issues so serious that they kill the DVD player. And there's the one DVD that's the wrong region, too; I tried changing my computer settings so I could watch it out here, but of course I need to pay for the DVD program first.

      At least this way I can watch shows I've never seen before, in my bedroom like normal people do. I don't even so much care if my GameCube can't hook up to it, since I never use it anyway (another device that crashes, sometimes 50 times before I can even get into the game, only to have it die when I'm playing it). So, yes, I'm finally excited to be getting an upgrade. Everything I own is from the '70s, '90s at the latest. My flip phone, my TV with its ridiculous antenna and the weight of a boulder... I am so ready for this change!

...

       Guess who's back in the hospital? In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out, I do not know why she does not just stay there until she's cured. It's almost as though she wants to waste money on taxis so that she can complain about it. This time, though, she went by ambulance; I was in bed, actually feeling good for once, when the paramedic's voice disturbed me. Naturally when I went back to bed the pain flared up. I'm beginning to think it's arthritis, because my shoulder has been screwed for about a year. It's hard to move, and my back pain can get brutal. Like, hurts-to-breathe, makes-me-sick brutal.

      Anyhow. I expect her to be home in a few days, still puffy and gross. She was so swollen with water retention that she was leaving puddles everywhere. I had to put on Latex gloves I can't even count how many times, and lift her legs up onto the couch. I'm allergic to Latex, so my hand rash came back, and of course she just kept getting heavier. Over 50 pounds of just...swelling. She couldn't help but stomp on the floor. Her arms were getting big, and this is a woman who wouldn't weigh 100 pounds soaking wet (although, I suppose she is now). Her face was getting puffy, she had fluid in her lungs, she'd been dealing with it for over four months. I was afraid her throat or her brain would swell next, or the area all around her lungs would swell and squish them. I was afraid she would burst.

      And she's probably going to bust out of the hospital again. Last time, she called home and said she was being discharged, but the doctors said she was escaping. Too late, the taxi was there to get her home. She spends so much time complaining that she can't live like this anymore, and she does everything in her power to keep on living like it.

      I had a phobia of hospitals from when a nurse ripped my IV out through the tape and sprayed my blood everywhere. I had a phobia from when the radiologist grabbed a handful of my lady parts, but you know what I did when I had my stones? I sat my ass in the chair, smiled at the doctors, told them jokes, and didn't go home until they cleared me. I wasn't enjoying it, but I didn't want to make them regret treating me. They are doctors and nurses; they probably had a hell of a day already. They likely did, because people suck.

      Honestly, she's sitting in a chair, getting taken care of, it's not all that different from home. I do not know how many more times I can lift her off the couch or the toilet without my back breaking; I need her to stay inside. And I think we all need her sisters to not come down here. It's just not a good time for them to come in here and demand attention, pressure us to join them for coffee at a restau-rant, and take unwanted pictures of us. It's not a good time for them to want our advice on where they should sit. It's not a good time for them to say they found a particle of dust and blast us for not doing anything when their homes look like the garbage dump.

      I just want them to stay away. I want all the people who love me to stay away and I want all the people who hate me to talk to me. But because life is such a joke... Here I am. Getting ready to tell my aunts that the person who desperately needs, or will have already had surgery, cannot go to a restaurant! And that we, her caretakers, who need to keep an eye on her, have an ethical obligation to do that.

      God, why are all the adults in my life such children? I guess they never thought that, maybe, we live nine hours away for a reason.

      What I want, is for one thing I want, to happen. It's like the universe is working against me.

      I want to sleep so bad right now. I am so, so, so exhausted. But the pain makes it really not worth it. I'd go for a walk, but the heat would probably kill me. It's around 40 degrees Celsius today; 104 Fahrenheit. Disgusting. I hate the heat, I hate the bugs, I hate dripping. I do not understand people who love summer. Give me a week of rain, give me a blizzard, and I'll be happy. I'll go walking. And I'll still turn my fan on and open my window, guaranteed.

     I'm going to go watch some more Lucifer. Hopefully the DVD player and the disk don't break. My luck...

Post 500

       Wow, halfway to a thousand? Gosh, I'm a nerd. Well, I've heard of going out with a bang, but today started with one. I was sleeping, for once, actually sleeping without pain. A bang woke me―a pretty gentle bump, like when you walk into the table. I was convinced I heard laughter, so I was indecisive about peeking out to check. Until I heard the crying. So I decided, I better at least ask. Turns out, my mother fell (for the second time that night, I learned), cracked her head, arms, ankles, and legs on pretty much every hard surface in the house, and collapsed by the door to cry. (She is going through so much right now; it's not just the falls, don't be ignorant.) I didn't even see her at first, because of the dining table; I just heard her and knew she had to be close.

      Luckily, no blood and very little pain, at least not from the falls. A little redness seems to be the only result. Well, redness and possibly a concussion; afterward, I had her sit, made the porridge and coffee she wanted, but she kept nodding off in her chair, almost falling off. She nearly burned herself by deciding to pick up a candle from the top, I had to snark at her and then she thought it was a good idea to blow it out (candles evidently cut down on cigarette smoke; my brother didn't want her near all those concrete steps in the dark). And, she was blabbering barely-audible nonsense. Some-thing about a nice wall and a wet lake, I don't know. Which is true, lakes are wet. No nice walls in this house, though. Not to mention she "had been pushed by an evil spirit." If I were religious I'd agree; she had been on the couch, suddenly she's on her ass and the couch and coffee table are on different angles. Quite a tumble she must have taken. Little lady actually pushed the couch back all by herself.

      Ah, hell, no one ever reads these. She's severely swollen from the waist down. Each toe looks like two toes and her legs are so dis-tended, they're shiny...and kind of lumpy. There are 40 pounds of swelling and it is getting worse. So I've been worrying that her throat will swell, block her trachea, and she'll suffocate. Now I'm thinking she might have swelling in her brain, causing the confusion.

      I'm also beginning to agree with my brother on having her live in a home. I think she was probably sleepwalking; she used to as a kid, and I certainly find it more plausible than evil spirits. I'd insist on her to text me when shit like this happens, but there's no point. Not only because apparently she won't, but because she doesn't know the difference between my Facebook account and my phone. I'm a dinosaur, okay, I'm happy with my little flip phone that can only make and receive phone calls and texts. Apparently "don't text my face" is too complex.

      Speaking of my Facebook. I have you in my pic, too, now, sis. If you want me to change it back to just me, you're going to have to talk to me.

Whoo!

       I feel good! Not pain-free, I feel like my arse'll fall off. But I finally, finally got my bath in. I was even able to get dressed! Yay! I smell nice...finally. I couldn't do it properly, I couldn't even sit, but it makes a difference for sure. I was legit wondering if I could ever have one again. Yucky!
      Bro seems to be recovering. But my mother seems to be worse. Her face is swelling now, and because the doctors haven't even attempted to drain the fluid, I'm worried her throat will swell up on the inside and block her trachea. She went to the hospital again a few nights ago, she's going today and again tomorrow, and my brother, a giant who may as well be made of metal, is going with her, and I want him to block the door and force the docs to do something. But gosh, I'm just sweet like that.

Health (Or The Lack Thereof)

       So I think I may need back surgery. It's been an issue now for about a year; I went to the hospital months ago and received very little care; 12 hours, one bottle of pills I didn't need to show for it. They didn't even work. So here I am, in complete agony; it took me three hours to sit up, fifteen minutes to stand, and about ten more to put on my slippers. I'm okay if I just don't move or sleep, ever...

      And that's just me. My mother's been in and out of the hospital since before May. They keep having her stay overnight due to serious issues, and then kicking her out before she can recover. And if you're thinking I'm exaggerating about the pills I don't need... Here's what they did for my mother. They gave her erectile dysfunction pills, and for my male cousin, they prescribed estrogen. I mean, why? In what universe does that make sense?

      And now my brother may have a head cold! So all the shit is hitting the fan all at once. Nobody is happy right now, everybody's been crabby and sniping at one another, and now on top of all that, there's a pyromaniac setting fires, possibly city-wide... I actually got to see a bench burn.

      Gah. One thing. One thing that is right. How the hell is that a great expectation? Why can't my brother feel healthy, or my mother get better?

      On the other hand... I am happy that it's my back, and not my kidney again. That's actually nice.

Sound FX

      I recently started playing two new games on Roblox, and right away I noticed something cool; they have sound effects from The Sims games in them. They're not related to the series, so either that one little sound is just similar or it's downright stolen. I'm not going to ask.

      One of the games is a space simulator. On the moon, there's a little dome where you can take off your space suit and eat apples, but if you click on a locked door, it makes the same sound in The Sims 3 games when you try to pick up an object that you can't, or you try to build a wall too close to the edge of the lot.

      The other game is an ocean game that lets you be sharks, whales, little fish, or a penguin. But if you cruise up to the surface, you'll hear a sound that's only heard in The Sims 3 if you happen to have the MultiTab 6000. When you direct your character to listen to a tabcast (which allows them to build skills while doing something else), you'll hear the same voice on every channel, and there's a very distinct "Huh!" sound that also appears in this Roblox game.

      ...It's weird.

...

       My list of favorite dreams is short; I'm crushing Poet And The Pendulum with Floor Jansen, Jeffrey Dean Morgan has his hand on my shoulder inside a planetarium, I'm on the beach, and a man is singing a song from The Sims 3: World Adventures, only he's changed it; it's slow, and sad, creepy, and really cool, because it fit with the dramatic scene happening in my dream.

      Yeah, I dream about the Sims, which is exactly the point of this post. Fast-forward to this morning, where I dreamt that my Sim-self (who I do play sometimes) was minding her own business when another Sim started sobbing about how tired she is. Instead of being oblivious to her cries like Sims really are, my character (who is a doctor in my save) went over to her and started... I'll say doctoring her, because nursing her just sounds wrong.

      It looked like The Sims 3, they moved like The Sims 3, everything even had that annoying, surrealistic glow from the full moon, but they were not indifferent or joyful about one's suffering. In my dream, my Sim wanted to help.

      I don't believe dreams have a special message, or that I have a purpose, but maybe this one does mean that I like medicine and want to help people. I know I like science, which I guess is kind of the purpose of the planetarium. And I like music, and beaches. I especially like Floor Jansen and Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

      Man, though, that Floor dream... That's my new number one dream. Well, not "new," it goes back awhile. But I don't think it can ever be outdone. The other contenders on that list come pretty damn close, but hey, I sounded good with her. It's totally not realistic, but if I could pick my dream, I'd pick that one every night! I mean, I'd rather not wake up and interrupt her, but I suppose that's not a choice.

...

       Oh, yeah. They definitely believe me. Toilet flooded, water everywhere. I shouldn't have had that juice. My brother, the handy-man of the family, got it fixed up again, but my mother, the drinker in the family, tried helping by tossing rags at him instead of just bringing towels.
      I should not have to be nervous about going to the bathroom. Every time. I wish I were a Sim; I'd read a couple of books and figure out how to make it unbreakable.

      But finally, she wants to talk to the landlord about it. Why listen to me when I've been talking about it since October?

      Whatever. They believe me. It's a good thing. They're suffering, and it's a good thing because they know I'm not a liar. Well, my brother just called me one in jest, but he was kidding, so that's fine. It doesn't suck at all... Well, maybe a little. I try to be kind, it's easy to be honest, but fine, call me a rude liar. At least I'm not the blind, ignorant one. I would think he'd go a little easier on me, since I've been ghosting a friend who called him a liar, but I guess he just hates me that much.

      Yeah. "He was kidding," like that matters. Maybe there are no good people.

...

       Well, it's taken them this long. But finally, finally, they believe me about the toilet! About bloody time. Really just thought I'd share, because I am just ecstatic that they no longer think I'm delusional or "making it up," because why the hell would I? Now there's actually another problem, though, the same problem we used to have; we flush it, and the noise just...stops. If you want the tank to fill, you actually have to run water at the sink. Seems to, I don't know, reset it or something. I hate living in a house that is almost as old as my grandparents.

      But at least now they believe me. Still not about the giant wolf spider, even though they have had to kill them, too. I don't know why they make me out to be such a liar, my own flesh and blood. I also don't know why they can't show me the same courtesy I extend them. Not touching their stuff, not going into their bedrooms without permission. But maybe respecting my space and calling me by my full name is just asking too much.

      Probably wondering if I have anger issues. The answer is yes, and the addendum is, gosh, I wonder why. Sure like to go one day without being spoken over. I honestly think if I didn't get pay checks, I'd have been out on my ass a long time ago. I don't even know why; other than playing the occasional game and the noise of my fan, it's like I'm not even here. I'm not happy, no, but it's been almost my whole lifetime since I went to the ocean or had a friend. I've never been on vacation. My family thinks family reunions count, but they don't. They just want it to, so their list of achievements looks longer than it is.

      Maybe I'm too miserable to be around. Or maybe nobody likes to hear the truth. Guess I'll never know. I could even ask the worldwide web and not get a straight answer. My brother would. My mother would, my sister would, the homeless guy in the ditch with his hand down his pants would. People treat me differently, they always have. I'm sick of it, but it's just never going to change.

      All I can do is wonder what I'll be interrupted or accused of lying about next time. I think I have found a decent place to end it all, though, so silver linings.