Was all over the place this morning. Jittery, skittering around the edges. Stress? Hah. Took a nap and now I feel.. I feel like shit.

Tired of people acting like they care. Obvious they don’t. Just once, I’d like it if someone didn’t bullshit me. And not this “non bullshit” that equates to someone kicking you when you’re down. Why is it that everyone’s “truth” involves you being the sole issue? That it’s somehow always your fault. I can do that on my own, I need someone to tell me that it’s not. Need, I’m sick of needing.

I need a change, something’s got to change and I’m so fucking tired of not changing. I just don’t know how to make it happen. I just know I can’t make it happen. Fuck.

Not entirely certain what’s going on with my body anymore. I give up on trying to make sense of it. I’ve tried taking my meds earlier, later, somewhere in between, and nothing seems to give me any sort of relief. On a scale of 1-10 I’m feeling a 12, but in an hour I could shoot up to a 15 or straight down to a -30. Who knows. Definitely not me.

The meds, they make me nonfunctional.. I have all this Gogogogogogogogogo!!!! but it’s like I’m trapped inside my own body. I can’t DO. I want to GO!!!!! It’s 8:30 [yay daylight's savings?] and I want to go weed the garden. Not that bad in and of itself, right? Except it becomes a compulsion. So I try to avoid it, even though I know it’d make me feel better simply because I’d be DOING. But then I go out there to do just that and suddenly my brain is fried and one movement to the next seems like I’ve missed several steps in between. Does that even make sense?

I’ve been cruising Craig’s List all morning.. First it was the houses for rent. Those depress me, because I know that no matter what I do I’ll never be able to get that. Despite everything else, even despite the no income, I can’t leave simply because I can’t do so much. On a bad day, I can’t cook. Who do I turn to when I can’t even get out of bed to help me with the animals? Even on the good days, who helps me work through a multiple step project? I baked a coffee cake last night, but only because She helped me go down the list of ingredients and the order of things.

Anyways, so I was good and depressed when I went and cruised the personals. A couple made me laugh – one guy went on this long rant that I thoroughly enjoyed.. Then there was the guy who wanted a 1950’s relationship. I fairly swooned. Oh, to be Suzie Homemaker!!! To do nothing all day but starch collars and iron, make scrumptious meals, and have his martini waiting when he came through the door!! But wait, I can’t manage anything more than nuking some oatmeal in the mornings.. Some days I’m lucky if I brush my hair, forget getting dressed. I am a mental patient craving that environment. Structure helps me so much, but who am I to ask that of anyone? No one wants to stick with the crazy. Hell, few want to stick it in the crazy!

People claiming to be friends, to want to help. The mangy stray kitten they’ll pick off the street, just as easily forgotten. I mean so very little to so very many people. That hurts. I thought I meant more, I thought.. I thought, that was my first mistake. This is going down a bad road, but I want to follow it through. I want to see where I end, if I end, does it ever really end? Why me? What is it about me that makes me so fucking disposable to everyone? The person that’s only good for use as needed? I don’t understand. I can only be what I am, but how does that translate into that? I don’t get it. I go over it a thousand times, trying to pinpoint the moment where what I thought was caring became.. Nothing. Analyze it to death and I come back with no real conclusions. I don’t know the why of it, or the when, or the how.. Is it just that it’s so gradual you can’t see it? Is it that I’m refusing to see it because I want to think I mean something to someone? Anyone.. I just want to mean something to someone. I want someone to tell me that I do mean something.

Okay, whatever, have to have your own self worth and blahblah.. I know I’m worth something. I know I’m a good person. You will find no one more loyal than I am, no one more ready to be there when you need them, no one who will see it through like me.. I’m kind, I’m generous, I’m a fighter, I am fucking strong. I am independent in my own ways. I am so very many things and yet I am nothing to them. I don’t get it.

Fuck. Crying now. Meds aren’t kicking in like they had been. I’m a bouncy ball of DOOM and go up, down, up, down, up.. Maybe that’s why I mean nothing to them…

So we messed around with my meds. I’m all kinds of fucked up. Half the time I can’t walk straight and wind up lying in bed crying. The other half I’m angry and can’t stand to be around anyone.. The smallest things set me off. The cats meowing can send me into a rage. The dogs, his dog, can set me off like you wouldn’t believe. This would be a bad time to introduce stressors.

So my brother is moving back home. No idea for how long. He has training out in Texas, working oil rigs again, but no one knows when. I think. I don’t know. No one tells me anything. Just one day things are moving along and then someone mentions that everything is changing. Like tomorrow. Like he’s starting to move his things back down this weekend. Like we need to clear out that room. Now.

I’m hiding in my room, crying, trying to pretend that I don’t hear my things being moved. I am so sick and fucking tired of people touching my things. Which reminds me. I have to go hide all of my toiletries, since he just uses them whenever he damn well pleases.

I want this day gone.. I want all the days to be gone. I need to get out of here and I can’t. And if one more self righteous fuckhole tells me I could just get up and do something and get out of here, I swear to god I’m going to hurt them.