The awful truth is that nobody really cares about me. People say they do but in the end it's not the way I need them to care. I'm a vampire sucking the care and concern right out of them. I miss Dean so much and he just takes my money than ignores me all week long. I wish I would die in my sleep. I hate my life. I am empty with nothing left to give. I'm just a purposeless loser, a slave to this system of greed and material wealth. Does everybody feel this way? Am I crazy or am I just too real for my own good. I wish a satellite would fall from the sky and land on my head.

Had sex this afternoon with somebody I've known for about 7 years but know nothing about him, including his real name. We fuck once every few months when I'm strapped for cash. He usually pays me $200.00 but he only gave me $173.00 today, said his daughter took his ATM card. Go figure.

I went to Target immediately afterwards.

I don't mind having sex with him. He's attractive, well built and well hung. I close my eyes and try to pretend I'm somewhere else though. It still felt good, in a way.

If it was Dean it would feel better. I don't even kiss this person. With Dean there is love and passion. This was a thirteen minute payday.

But of course I feel guilty as he'll for doing it. I feel like Mary Magdalane all over again. Thank God for prescription pills. Lorazepam .5, two of them and a brownie and some icecream. I also smoked a little off this roach i found in my truck.

I hate my life.

Another day another dollar. Honey bees are rapidly disappearing. Another pending catastrophe to keep me awake at night. Lovely.

I feel so alone. Tired. Work is insane. The only thing that gets me through the days are my vicodin pills.

I ate too much pizza and brownies today. Other that that all week was devoted to whole grains, omega 3 and vegetables.

Miss Dean so much, but in the long run our relationship won't last. I don't see him being dedicated enough to stay with me into my 40s and 50s. I'm going to die alone. Just like Morrissey.

Went back to work. Good thing my resumè is updated. I'm not sure I can do what I'm doing for much longer. The stress is insane. I'm on vicodin 7.5 two or three times a day. My antidepressant is working ok. No pot so far. Back to work today. I'm happy though, for how long I wonder.

Head is still secured tightly to neck.

Mental healthcare in Texas is a joke. You can find a doctor who does medication management and therapy but charges $300.00 per session and doesn't accept insurance. Than, you find a doctor who is covered 100% under your policy but all he does is peddle medication, no therapy. I've given up on doctors completely.

It's been a long day. I cried so much that I hyperventilated and almost passed out.

I keep thinking about the big tree in the backyard. I could throw a noose around it, call the police and hang myself all before Mom came home from work. It's just a thought. I wouldn't dare. I just love everybody so damn much.

I just wish I knew what was going to happen.

Okay

I need to get my head in order. Thank God for weed.

Thank God for Mom. She rearranged my furniture and cleaned and helped me organize. Still need to go through clothes to take to Goodwill.

The dog being here this weekend as well as the kids was very taxing. I love them so much though. Poor little guys. I was so crazy, mean, irritable, and lazy! Again, thank God for Mom. She does it all at sixty years old. Mom has a full-time job she likes, takes care of everybody, sees to the house, the yard - but I can't take care of myself!

Mental illness, drug addiction, athritis and chronic back pain. All at 32 years old. Can I change my life at this point? Is it worth saving?

I'm dying to get back to work and stop feeling sorry for myself. Or, if I can't go back to work for my current job, which I've been off for the past month and a half on my medical hiatus (disability), at least find a new job.

I have nobody to talk to about my problems. Nobody. My entire life is an embarrassing lie. I can do drugs with my friends, but I can't talk to them about my problems with work, stress, borderline personality, my fucked up past, my traumatizing childhood. The truth is, nobody really cares about other peoples problems.

I've thought of going to confession. I'm so scared though. It's so weird being brought up Catholic. I am scared to death. I feel like I've been cast out. I know if I felt Jesus' love again I could live again. Sounds crazy I know it does. I'm like a fallen angel. A part of me feels Agnostic though. I just don't know. It's like that movie Dogma. I guess that's why he wrote it. People really do go through this.

Than there's the people that do care about my problems. Dean. Dean especially. And Mom. And my sister. These people care a lot. But I can't tell them because I could never let them know these awful things I'm so ashamed of. I could never tell April either. And she cares.

At least Dean and I are friends again. I will have to lie to him about my whereabouts and actions since Wednesday night. So sad. So much deceit. I love that sweet caring man. Funny thing is I still see him as a boy. But he's not. He's a man. And he's right about so many things. Wish I didn't have to let him down everyday.

Let's see how long my sanity will last this time around. Tomorrow is Monday. It's a brand new day. My favorite day. I know people hate Mondays, but for me it's like a new beginning. =)

I miss the kids. They sprinkle happiness everywhere they go.

I'm cramping so bad and haven't stopped eating all day.

Tostadas and a Dirty Jobs marathon on Discovery. What a way to pass the time.

FML

Fuck my life. Not only does my life suck because I am a loser with no job and no ambition to get one, but I am a loser because I can't control myself long enough to stay sober for even 1 solid week. So, let's see. Wednesday I drank many drinks, which led to many lines of cocaine, which led to me feeling like utter pathetic shit on Thursday, which led to me being a major bitch to my family on Friday. Than of course I drank again Friday night to get away from them which led to rudeness all weekend long. Now comes the depression.

Life's sweetest little things: My niece and nephew following the scent of pancakes to the kitchen, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, while their greatful aunt gleefully prepares breakfast.

Eat like a skinny girl.

Okay, so I smoked some weed earlier today. I swore I wouldn't stuff my face full of garbage. So, I made brown rice and baked chicken. I had a salad to hold me over. Of course, I ate enough chicken and rice to satisfy at least two normal people. The only bad thing about smoking pot. It gives me this insatiable hunger that fogs my mind. I will shovel food into my mouth, mindlessly.

So, I watched Ninotchka starring Greta Garbo. Her beauty and grace is timeless. Hard to look away from her while she's on the screen. Her laughter and smile is enchanting. I don't believe any actress today holds a candle to Greta Garbo. Not one.

So, my stomach feels bloated and full. Luckily, I don't have any more pot unless somebody comes by tomorrow for a toke or I seek it out myself.

I listened to Abnormally Attracted to Sin 7 times total today. I am abnormally attracted to sin. Like a magnet.

The addict in me is dormant - for now.

So, I say so a lot. Need to stop that.

Define me.

I am life experience and regret. Also torn apart, alone, abandoned, ashamed. Together, love, hate, anger, worthiness, pity.

Worthiness. Now that's a new one.

I used to think I was worthless. I still think that way, sometime. Or maybe it's because worthlessness is a part of me. But so is worthiness. She's a part of me. The one that's worthy. There is more than one part of me.

Tori Amos is my acting muse for the day. "Abnormally Addicted to Sin" has been the back drop for my doctor's appointment today trip and wait. I listened to it on the way to physical therapy. I listened to it while I sipped my coffee and ate my Spinach Florentine.

The burning question is: How does one go back to the way they were? How do I get to before my innocent little eyes were exposed to pain and the evil layed ahead. My evil dad who I get embarrassed talking about. The drug addiction. Sin.

I need my Father. Lord, when I think about doing my Sacrement of Penence.

Why can't I manage? I'm suffering from something that's programed. The scars on my arms from when I cut myself with a lady bic during a cocaine induced nervous breakdown back in the late 90s. I'm still nursing those scars. Probably my biggest regret. Besides for all the sex. SEX. Something I crave but something that also repulses me at this point in my life.

Well. Yesterday I decided I was going to rub vitamin E oil on my little scars everyday for six months. And I was also going to slowly forgive myself of them. Each of them.

But what am I going to do about these men in my life now? The one who means well and the one who's just a prick.

And the Catholic church. What am I going to do about that?

Jesus. Oh Jesus. I love Him, You. But I don't think it's Jesus I need to be praying to. It's her. It's that little girl inside me who begs to be forgiven.

I love my guardian angels protecting me here on earth.

People who have real jobs, real lives, but who think I'm worthy enough stick around for. So, I guess that does mean I'm worthy.

What's wrong with me I always wonder. Why am I capable of so much evil? So many Christian values I forgot along the way.

Blah blah blah.

Don't judge me. I'm trying. And I feel a little better now.