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Thursday, June 26, 2003:

It happened again the other night, worse than the evening prior. I couldn’t not cry. I was hysterical for about a two hour period before I finally called Nick, and once I was on the phone with him I was able to calm down and actually breathe. I was still balling my eyes out, of course, but it was mild in comparison to before he answered my call. It was as though I was censoring my feelings for his benefit. The man gets quiet and sad if I even look disturbed, how would he take it if I confessed between insane sobs that I was contemplating jumping out the window (which I would never, do, by the way- I live in a two story house. A fall from my bedroom window would do nothing more than break my leg, which would be worse than death) or swallow any and all of the pills I could find in the house? (That is another thing I would not do, I would probably end up like Morgan. While in high school she unknowingly attempted to overdose on her mothers genital herpes medication. I can only wonder what kind of weird prescriptions I would come across…) I don’t want to do any more damage to the relationship I have with him than what I have already done, which is why I kept my antics that night to a minimum while I talked with him. After the conversation was over I drank some wine, ate some (a lot) of chocolate, and passed out. During all of the drama I did manage to watch my new movie that Nick bought me for my birthday, Torch Song Trilogy. Quite possibly one of the best movies ever made, and one of my new favorites. It’s right up there with To Wong Foo and Hedwig, if that gives you an idea. Anyway, I truly appreciate the fact that he bought it for me, could not have done a better job in picking a gift. I wonder if the other two I have not gotten from him yet will be as good? I am sure they will, I have a lot of faith in him. As much as I tell him otherwise, I think he knows me pretty well already. I am grateful to have him around, and I hope I can get my ass in gear and keep it that way for a while. He deserves better than what I am giving him. I am also grateful to everyone else who reads this stupid little blog… you guys are great. Don’t be fooled by things I say- I don’t impose a large physical danger to myself, I know better. It is just sometimes I need to vent. Thanks for listening.
QueenBee // 2:40 PM

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Tuesday, June 24, 2003:

I just made my customer cry...

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I haven't felt this good in eons :)


QueenBee // 8:56 PM

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Monday, June 23, 2003:

I feel really lonely. Like, despair lonely. And ever so empty. It’s like I was a glass of water that was thrown to the floor, and now my body is all broken and my souls just sitting there on some dirty floor, evaporating. I feel like I don’t have anybody. That in itself is stupid, I know, and I am sure you all are thinking I am crazy and wondering where I am coming with all of this. Don’t get me wrong- I love all of you, I think you’re the most beautiful and wonderful people and that I am lucky to have you in my life. It’s just at this moment I can’t breathe because I feel so withdrawn. All I can do is cry, and I am, crying here like fucking crazy and it won’t stop and I can’t even explain it. I miss my mom and I don’t know what was so fucking bad that she felt death was the only option. People say she wasn’t mentally sound but I don’t buy it, I think it was a façade she chose to create that she herself eventually bought into and that destroyed her, but it destroyed me, too. What kind of person am I? What kind of person could I be because of that? What’s my worth? My own mother didn’t love me enough to stay alive, what does that say about me? People say that it happened so that I could be stronger and I used to believe them, I even found myself passing judgments on people like my mother, feeling I was above and beyond them. I recently found a letter I wrote to my father when I was in Utah on the subject of abortion. I called my mother a spineless murderer because she had had two procedures before me, and I stated that I felt anyone who chose abortion for any reason other than to terminate a pregnancy that was not going to produce a healthy child in the first place was a killer, and that they deserved no better that what they had chosen for their unborn child. Now look at me, a baby killer. I used to envision my future a happy one, I could foresee a husband and many children and quiet fame as an author or an artist, of watching my babies grow and prosper and create things for themselves that I never could have on my own, and of staying around rather than bailing out even if things got rough (unlike my own mother) But now when think of my future I can’t see past a certain age, everything is bleak and unclear and eventually non-existent. I look at myself and cannot fathom finding love, which rules out the marriage idea, and I fear that my own death will come before children. That is the worst feeling in the world, worse than any feeling I get from my mother’s death or from Shayla’s death or from any other aspect of my life up to this point. All I want is a baby, truly, that is all I ever could seriously ask for. But I can’t have what I want, not now, and when I am finally able to get it I don’t think it will be available to me, and that shreds my insides like fine paper. It makes me want to end my life. That is an honest statement, not an exaggeration or a plea for help. It really makes me want to die. In fact, a lot does lately. Maybe I am just hormonal or overly emotionally sensitive, but I feel like I have been dragged behind a boat on a rough current at 60 miles an hour and I just want desperately to let go. I am so so so so so tired. My body is tired and my mind is tired and my heart is exhausted, and there is no one here who can fix that but me, and I don’t even have the will to try. It’s possible I am losing my mind, that maybe I should take my fathers advice and get some therapy or go back on my medication, or it might even be possible that I am just starting to feel the effects of all of the emotional barriers I have put up around myself to block out real relationships over the past few years. Either way, I just feel fucking alone and I think right now might be the time to commit my own suicide. Or at least cerebral suicide- I am going to go get some chocolate and serve it up to myself with a big fatty migraine.... My God, does stress kill.
QueenBee // 2:15 AM

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~The blog of the ever cynical but occasionally humorous QueenBee~

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