22 years old and a woman now you're told

.....

soup for dinner.

i voted today.

the satanic verses is actually excellent for reading in fragments.

i want to make another shawl.

my new life as a coffee swiller is beginning with the help of Short Blacks with Water.

.....

cleaning out a popcorn machine makes the smell of popcorn oil infuse your skin, and the salt from the flavoraid (TM) permeate your skin. your fingers dry out and feel like husks.

portside --- emporium X emporium in terms of ritzyness.

i feel angry at workplace 1 for no good reason. workplace 3 is my favourite at the moment, and two, i am indifferent to, but pleased that it's there.

there is a lightheadedness associated with lying down sometimes. when you are tired? or not tired? have i eaten since breakfast? i have soup, yes. but no bread. i am suppose to watch my mood for anxiety associated with eating. that's why i read while i eat, apparently. i refuse to sound like a victim. that's not true, because i think i often do.

it's so much easier to wallow in victim - hood than to actually deal with the consequences and reality of your situation.

......

this isn't some sort of pity-plea. i just feel like venting like a teenager with a live journal whose only friends are. A. the minister's daughter she is in love with. B. her best friend, a good christian boy, who is dating the minister's daughter and C. her imaginary friend. or internet boyfriend in his late 20's. or imaginary friend. i have so many diary entries detailing my terror at this constructed linguistic sophistication. for god's sake, i am small and scared. for god's sake. i am a stupid, immature child. my words are complex and my reading list is profound, but i am a little girl who doesn't know who she is anymore. i can never be as beautiful as you think i am, because behind these velvety languid language curtains and ornate, gothic twisted arches made of metal and intellectual vigour, i sleep with a teddy bear and cry myself to sleep with a razor blade. i made a shit princess. the crown is too big, my hair is ugly and i am shit at brushing it, i only wear boots with scuffs and white paint on them, and i swear like a trouper. i'm blunt and small and confused.

and i'll find myself and run away and fuck everyone over in the end because i want to make you hate me as much as i hate myself sometimes.

i sort of feel like that, right now, because i am desperately overtired and cranky. i don't mean it.

venting away in the privacy of the internet.
as if it's private. ha.

well, it's faceless.

i ask. does anyone ever feel grown-up and in control? like a real adult?

.......


i think i am going to do a painting of a fish tonight.

i don't hate myself. therapy is a long process, and i missed my last session because i ran out of money.