The latest communique from the outskirts of hell: I am back, all 0.3 readers, and I am BAD. No, I am merely confused, but what else is new? Most of us are, upon occasion, confused, and I am now living in a "transitional housing" program which means that I am surrounded by everyone from parolees to people with brain injuries. Triggering? You bet. Insane? Definitely. Will I survive? Who the hell knows, but I am definitely ready for a major apocalypse, if it happens.
I just emailed the former doctor that once I loved (blue eyed man, for those of you in the know), and will probably receive some sort of universal slap on the wrist for that, but that's OK. I mean, what else is new? Most of us have these unrequited crushes. I just want to feel like my life means more than fear, pain, and endless trauma, and if living in fantasy land helps provide it, so be it. It's the awareness of such that enables me to, hopefully, move on with my existence. And to find a real live man in this very state! I mean, it could happen, theoretically. An asteroid could also hit the earth tomorrow, but hey, whatever, man. If so, I'm ready.
Not much else to say at present, except I may start screaming and never stop. I may also need to start taking two instead of one tranquilizers a day to deal with this. A job will help -- I just finished up a temp job that provided some sorely needed income and help and I do tend to be feisty. I wouldn't be 35 years old and a survivor of everything from childhood sexual abuse to living on the street if I wasn't a tad feisty. And look, I'm even articulate! And thus we banish universal stereotypes.
Here's looking at you, kid.
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