Tuesday, February 15, 2011


Absolute perfect time to write according to me is after I’ve taken Ambien to sleep.  This way, random things come to mind easier, it’s easier to just keep the flow of typing running along without making much sense since I’m already kind of out of it but with fun music and the late hour, it almost seems really surreal. I wanna stay in this fun state for a long time if I could. I wish I could look at the world this way with such intent and hopefulness in the people that I know and god I know this doesn’t make any sense but as I’m typing this is makes perfect sense to me in my mind as it rolls on through. My mind being the controller as my hands are the slaves trying to catch up with my mind as they type away trying to figure out my brain’s code to transfer over to my fingertips. The music isn’t helping oh god the music isn’t helping. The music is making me think of good times, bad times, sad times, all at a mile a minute so now my heart feels emotionally confused as to what to what it should be feeling like. I thank the Flashbulb for this by the way. It is indeed my writing music. My writing music that I can’t seem to stop listening to music. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I could keep up with my astronomy and physics major when I move away…a part of me doesn’t feel as smart anymore because of the depression and no motivation to do anything but even  as I’m typing out sad things, I feel happy because on ambien (and listening to ambient music haha I wonder if that’s how they came up with the name for ambient…)  I feel like I’m on a cloud in the sky in the earth in Maryland in Frederick in my house in my basement in my couch. Hell maybe I should just start taking a half of ambien to get me through the day making me happy hell I almost feel high and the only thing that I really want to do is write write write whatever comes to mind and I know I do these exercises frequently, this isn’t an exercise, merely me just typing a lot without worry to spelling, punctuation and organizing my thoughts in these essays that I write in my blog for mainly Rob Anderson to read and whoever else lurks on my blog. I’m trying to continue with this but not the song changed and I feel weird so I need to switch to to something different so I can continue this writing spree. Prefect okay. What do I see if I close my eyes listening to this song? It starts out like a black hole in the universe except instead of leaving the black hole, you decide to be stretched for eternity and while you are being stretched you think about your life and whats in it. The beginning of your life, your childhood, the popsicles at grandma’s house, running around barefoot in the summertime, I had a tan and blonde hair how is that even possible I wish I could tan again. I’m trying I swear I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Then you go into that area where you start meeting friends and it speeds up and everything sound a little more clear, the notes, rhythm, the beat, synths, piano, it all forms together and isn’t blurry anymore upon being previously stretched. The farther you go, the more clearly things can be seen including maybe mistakes but mostly just fond memories and then memories you can’t forget even if they were bad but you are stretching on and on past them…on to your future.

Monday, February 14, 2011


I realized something. Well, maybe not just realized it but denied it for the longest time.

I can’t seem to look people in the eyes. Maybe brief glances but never for too long.

I don’t know why this is (for me at least). There are probably a thousand reasons, excuses, and theories as to why a person can’t look someone in the eyes for too long.  For some people, it’s a phobia. They could be paranoid thinking, “If I look this person in the eyes they are going to know how terrible of a person I think that I am and they are never going to want to see or hear from me again.” I can understand that. 

Actually, hold it right there. A phobia. Maybe I have a phobia of looking people in the eyes. All my life, I’ve always had people say to me, “Look at me when I’m talking to you. Why can’t you look me in the face?” etc. etc…

Christ, at my own wedding at the courthouse, I seriously couldn’t even look my own husband in the eyes when saying my vows to him. I looked at the floor. And everyone seemed to jump my shit afterwards as to WHY I couldn’t look him in the face. They were describing to me their frustrations upon seeing me meekly mumble my vows to the FLOOR. Saying to themselves, “Emily! Look up! Emily come on…look at him!” Of course, this brought on a series of arguments assuming that I didn’t love him and therefore wasn’t good enough for him (whether it was said out of anger or truth, I don’t know. I am told it was merely out of anger but sometimes the truth comes out when you’re angry. Sometimes.)

Well, when I’m angry at people I can look them dead in the eyes and say whatever obscenities come to mind. This has been pointed out to me and as I think back on times where I’ve been caught in a hurricane of rage, I clearly see it. I wasn’t yelling at the floor. 

What does that say about me? That I can be quick to cut someone with my words while looking them in the eyes but I can’t when giving promises of forever faithfulness?  I swear, I really wonder about myself. 

This whole discussion turns me back to an old blog entry I wrote on fetishes and how I had a fetish with a person’s hands. That I could clearly recall anyone’s hands in my mind, how they moved, grabbed, pulled, scratched (wow this all sounds so dirty but it’s not). But I also remember myself saying that I couldn’t look into their eyes.  I really wish I could turn back those stubborn as hell hands of time and look my goddamn husband in the eyes during our wedding vows. That I truly regret. 

I guess I just didn’t want him to see.

Sunday, February 13, 2011


So I'm laying in my bed completely exhausted when a thought occurred to me:

What if people who have attempted suicide or have had near-death experiences had actually died but instead of going to “heaven’ or “hell” or seeing some light or whatever you may believe in, had actually just continued to live their lives in a different state. Maybe being dead is actually just continuing to live “life” as it would have played out without your physical body dying? Maybe in a parallel universe, the people you left behind are suffering and mourning over your death while in the universe you are “living” in is actually just “death” itself. The body dying while the soul continues to live on as how your life could have ended up.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Dog Days Are Over.

Ya know who I admire? The women who are in relationships and are completely secure with the relationship itself. No worries. No staying up late wondering what's going on through their heads. Just relaxed, no worries, be happy, chill chill happy fun times.

Then there is that rare breed of the female population. The ones who let their significant others chase women, hell, even sleep with them if the opportunity presented itself (as long as they didn't come back with herpes). I just can't wrap my head around it. I know that as a human race, we are not meant for monogamy. But I'd like to think that maybe we, as a human race, have also developed far beyond our "instinctual desires". But a part of me, kinda wishes that I were like that. Because let's face it, what man wants an uptight girlfriend/wife that is so worried about what they are doing when they aren't around? I know that I'm personally like that due to having a Borderline personality. Then again, I guess that's no excuse but it's harder for me than for the normal person you could say.

I wish I could be the "perfect" whatever. Girl? I don't know.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

A million broken people.

"And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can't ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when you turn is going to be, or if it's already happened."
~Douglas Coupland, Life After God

This quote really speaks to me for some reason. It's true on so many levels. Certain things happen to people in their lives--things they will never forget (except if they develop Alzheimer's, for that they are lucky).
Even as I am writing this, there are so many things I want to write, to say, to scream at whoever is reading these words. I want to be able to tell everyone it’s going to be okay. To tell them they aren’t failures. That they will soon all be happy one day. That everything is going to be alright.

But I don’t know this for sure. I can’t guarantee a stranger’s happiness. Or even a friend’s. I’m scared because I’m afraid I’ve already been broken. That no one will ever be able to bring me back. I’ve already fallen into that well in the backyard and no clawing my way to the top is going to help. I wish to some God or distant being that I would have been warned of everything that would happen. Why didn’t anyone warn any of us? Maybe then we could have made different choices. But I guess that wouldn’t be Life, would it?

I hate to sound like I’m some angsty writer sitting in her basement hating the world and everyone in it, but isn’t it the truth? You can’t sit there in your chair or on your floor or on your bed doing whatever you’re doing and tell me I’m lying. Because all of you know deep down that there is someone you know that just lost it. Just gave up on everything because they felt trapped and honestly couldn’t trust a soul around them. You felt bad for them, pitied them and couldn’t imagine yourself being in their place. You swore to yourself, “Oh that won’t be me, that will never be me, no way.”

And then it happens. It could start slowly, hell, you won’t even notice that it’s already planted a seed in your mind and only certain events, words, and people can cause it to cultivate and grow.
I call it the long death. Some call it depression. Others call it “insert a mental illness here”.
But how do you grasp something that does not kill you today or tomorrow but slowly from the inside over the course of 5, 10, 20 years? 

Don’t get me wrong. We are all loved in some way, shape, or form. But when this seed in your head becomes overgrown, it blocks out all the people who love you. People you don’t even know that love you. How the hell are you supposed to trim this overgrown thing in your mind? So you can see things a bit clearer?

I’ll get back to you on that.