hings I am Grateful for In No Particular Order:
The year and a half I spent riding in trucks
The progression from trucks to the CTA, from a Honda Civic to a Moped, Back to the CTA, And From the CTA to some sort of Chevy.
The people I’ve met this year who have taught me lessons in life and helped me come to a better understanding of myself.
Losing, like, 120 pounds super fast.
My friends with aspergers and NLD. (I get along quite well with autists.)
The relationships in my family that have improved quite nicely.
Laughing so hard that eventually there is no sound but rather an open mouth and chest contractions.
Writing country parodies about how much I fucking hate Stroger.
The summer spent in glee with Richard and Frankie .
That one anonymous program I go to.
My sisters U-Pass.
The sterling silver spoon I was given by a friend in quite a strange fashion.
Psychiatric medication, yo.
Generic brand Crystal Light.
The people I’ve reconnected with after two years after the fall out.
My superior list making abilities.
My wardrobe suddenly multiplying. “Where did all of this come from? Who’s clothes are these?”
The beautiful gifts and new memories given to me by Benny Boy.
There’s so much more but I’m too lazy to write it.
While in the lavatory on a domestic flight in March 2010, I spontaneously put a tissue paper toilet cover seat cover over my head and took a picture in the mirror using my cellphone. The image evoked 15th-century Flemish portraiture. I decided to add more images made in this mode and planned to take advantage of a long-haul flight from San Francisco to Auckland, guessing that there were likely to be long periods of time when no one was using the lavatory on the 14-hour flight. I made several forays to the bathroom from my aisle seat, and by the time we landed I had a large group of new photographs entitled Lavatory Self-Portraits in the Flemish Style.
Sinceramente, no hablo español. yo uso los programas de traducción en Internet. Yo creo que lo mejor es hablar con alguien que entienda. aunque traductor Google es la única manera de comunicarse.
I have never shit my pants…
I have shit the bed…
My boyfriends bed…
I took his virginity…
And shit all over it…
He silently washed his sheets…
I was mortified…
He pulled me in his arms and kissed me tenderly…
He then asked if I wanted to spend the night…
A week later he tells me he loves me…
I think I’m going to marry him.
Philips brand saline laxative will have a special place in my heart and in my medicine cabinet.
Who else besided myself could have such a happy ending from such a (literally) shitty situation?
Hopelessly wishing for everlasting mania. How about you?
People like you and me brace ourselves for pain. We have walls that only we can see through and we rarely let them down for anybody to see how scared and fragile we really are. You and I don’t know how to moderate what trust we lend out and because of that we always seem to let the wrong people in. We let in the ones that smile with venomous lips and we block out the ones that won’t let us down. I don’t fully understand why we do this but I have a small idea. We’re used to torture both from ourselves and the situations we find ourselves in. After time the torture becomes comfortable because we find that we’ve grown numb from it. We get scared when good things come our way. The sudden change in the spectrum is overwhelming and we get scared and run back into the hurt. We stay until we notice that it’s begun to hurt again and then we try to embark into the light.
When we get there we feel things that are like distant memories of a fairy tale we’ve heard when we were young. It feels great. Feelings that people normally take for granted we take as great fleeting pleasures. Something happens and suddenly we realize that we’ve been in the sun for too long. It could be anything from heart break to a small disappointment. Happiness and the thought of happiness scald our flesh and we stumble into complete darkness and pick at our wounds thus starting the cycle over again.
You and I are selfless. We do for others what we can’t do for ourselves. We console them, we calm them down, make them smile, we take care of them. When the ones we love get hurt we spring into action to fend off their demons and protect them. When our friends feel pain we want to take it upon ourselves so that they don’t need to feel it any longer. When they cry we become stronger fighters then we’ve ever been before and become willing to wield a blade to the throats of their attackers. Everything we do is for the ones we love. We love so hard that it hurts. And even though we know, deep down inside, that they would love us, fight for us, and tend our wounds; we don’t discuss our pain honestly with them until the cracks crumble us in to pieces.
Some one once told me that my theme song should be Lean on Me. If you don’t know it goes
Lean on me, when you’re not strong. I’ll be your friend. I’ll help you carry on.
And I think those lyrics would apply to you perfectly.
We don’t hate ourselves; We’re afraid of loving ourselves. So we give all that love and all that attention that we desperately need to give ourselves away to the ones that we feel deserve it more.
But we are strong, we carry on, we survive. We become martyrs and attempt to carry the cross alone. But when we let the wrong person affect us; a blade of grass falls upon our shoulders and we collapse.
We aren’t victims we’re survivors. And all that hurt we’ve been trapped in for as long as we can remember will become our biggest strength. When we take care of ourselves we gain the ability to change lives. We have the ability to make the pen mightier than the sword and use the script of the past to prevent it from repeating its self.
It’s hard to hear. Actually it’s hard to type. But I know that deep inside you is a guardian angel destined to guide others through what we’ve already suffered through. I’ll help you carry on, for it won’t be long, till I’m going to need somebody to lean on.
What a literary stud