Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2002-04-06 11:27 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2002-04-06 11:27 pm
Enough.
Enough enough enough.
The words never quite work when I need them to. Wish Darkside still had a phone I could call at obscene hours of the night. I need him; need somebody right about now. It looks like none of the people who'd have the right words are a) on; b) there.
It seems that everything's upsetting me today. Work was great. I was, for once in my miserable pissant life, real enough to tell someone who makes a habit of really pissing me off that they were, in fact, really pissing me off. Co-worker, loudmouth, no longer calls me Diane.
Got home to find much in the way of dirty dishes that I hadn't done yet, and a completely invisible Adam. Night eventually fell; Votania and the Viking left for whereabouts unknown; I finished reading the book and then became claustrophobic. When Marx and Nephew and I were all in the kitchen at once, that became too much for me: I fled.
It turned out that Adam is out with V., and that the Viking had taken Votania to go look at cars. Whoo. Cars. ...I would be getting more excited, but I really have a hard time doing that when my sinuses feel full of chlorinated water. Votania brought home cookies. Again, whoo.
Reminder to self: avoid Chips Ahoy. Every time I eat them I remember why I hate them, which is because they don't taste at all good to me, yet I keep eating them anyway.
Barricaded self in room, now. Adam is not coming home any time tonight, it seems. I asked, just short of begging, but the answer was no.
...Note to self, never try to find out what is up with Votania's computer when already in a depressive frame of mind. Any threat of violence towards a computer affects me deeply. I internalize irritation at other people, marking it as a fault against myself for letting what they did get at me. Votania's well-meaning lecture to that point made it worse.
For all that he's a good friend, hugs from Marx are not what I need at this point, nor hugs from the Viking, nor hugs from R. Maybe hugs from Neighbor. Maybe.
Little things are irritating me tonight, setting me onto that dangerous edge where I snap out and wind up hurting myself. Telling me I shouldn't, that I should pull myself together, stop feeling sorry for myself, stop hurting myself on purpose, stop getting upset, make me feel of far less worth, for that's what I'm telling myself as I'm sinking deeper into the muck of regret and self-loathing.
Yes, I'm fucking falling in love with Adam. No need to slap me in the face with it. I would be wiser to take my heart back, dust it off, wrap it up in a little box with brown paper bag wrapping, and plenty of tape, and stick it in Darkside's backpack sometime when he's not looking, with his name clearly written on the outside, and my sigil. A pocket he doesn't dig in, much.
It would be safe there. For all that he's a cold little bastard, he cares enough to not hurt me on purpose except for fun for both of us.
The fucking background music on American McGee's Alice pissed me off; I put in Ozzy to drown it out. Votania was trying to sleep, and turned it back down -- I reappeared out in the living room, holding body pillow up to try and hide my face, and asked that Marx turn down the damn game.
Then I locked the door.
No, it hasn't been this bad in a while.
I don't love R. Not that way. He's a friend; we shag. Period. No romance. The occasional backrub.
...Adam, I love.
... ... Darkside, I should stay in love with. He'll treat me right, even if it is only as dear but platonic friends. ...I may be falling out of love.
...Somebody just bonk me over the head with a large anvil now......
The words never quite work when I need them to. Wish Darkside still had a phone I could call at obscene hours of the night. I need him; need somebody right about now. It looks like none of the people who'd have the right words are a) on; b) there.
It seems that everything's upsetting me today. Work was great. I was, for once in my miserable pissant life, real enough to tell someone who makes a habit of really pissing me off that they were, in fact, really pissing me off. Co-worker, loudmouth, no longer calls me Diane.
Got home to find much in the way of dirty dishes that I hadn't done yet, and a completely invisible Adam. Night eventually fell; Votania and the Viking left for whereabouts unknown; I finished reading the book and then became claustrophobic. When Marx and Nephew and I were all in the kitchen at once, that became too much for me: I fled.
It turned out that Adam is out with V., and that the Viking had taken Votania to go look at cars. Whoo. Cars. ...I would be getting more excited, but I really have a hard time doing that when my sinuses feel full of chlorinated water. Votania brought home cookies. Again, whoo.
Reminder to self: avoid Chips Ahoy. Every time I eat them I remember why I hate them, which is because they don't taste at all good to me, yet I keep eating them anyway.
Barricaded self in room, now. Adam is not coming home any time tonight, it seems. I asked, just short of begging, but the answer was no.
...Note to self, never try to find out what is up with Votania's computer when already in a depressive frame of mind. Any threat of violence towards a computer affects me deeply. I internalize irritation at other people, marking it as a fault against myself for letting what they did get at me. Votania's well-meaning lecture to that point made it worse.
For all that he's a good friend, hugs from Marx are not what I need at this point, nor hugs from the Viking, nor hugs from R. Maybe hugs from Neighbor. Maybe.
Little things are irritating me tonight, setting me onto that dangerous edge where I snap out and wind up hurting myself. Telling me I shouldn't, that I should pull myself together, stop feeling sorry for myself, stop hurting myself on purpose, stop getting upset, make me feel of far less worth, for that's what I'm telling myself as I'm sinking deeper into the muck of regret and self-loathing.
Yes, I'm fucking falling in love with Adam. No need to slap me in the face with it. I would be wiser to take my heart back, dust it off, wrap it up in a little box with brown paper bag wrapping, and plenty of tape, and stick it in Darkside's backpack sometime when he's not looking, with his name clearly written on the outside, and my sigil. A pocket he doesn't dig in, much.
It would be safe there. For all that he's a cold little bastard, he cares enough to not hurt me on purpose except for fun for both of us.
The fucking background music on American McGee's Alice pissed me off; I put in Ozzy to drown it out. Votania was trying to sleep, and turned it back down -- I reappeared out in the living room, holding body pillow up to try and hide my face, and asked that Marx turn down the damn game.
Then I locked the door.
No, it hasn't been this bad in a while.
I don't love R. Not that way. He's a friend; we shag. Period. No romance. The occasional backrub.
...Adam, I love.
... ... Darkside, I should stay in love with. He'll treat me right, even if it is only as dear but platonic friends. ...I may be falling out of love.
...Somebody just bonk me over the head with a large anvil now......