Blood Letting and Xanax

Dear Hearts,

8th

I am just overcome with such despair like a funeral pall

I should enjoy this I’m not working and don’t have to

I can’t go on but I have to

I wish I wanted to kill myself

Tired of the trials

Why does it have to be so fucking hard

They took aware my future

Again

9^th

the tears won’t come

that was mine. It was so

it was my hope

my future

I wish the tears would come and release the pain

Do I fight back

Going through motions

Empty

Paralyzed

11^th above are just random thoughts I’ve had. I have to get this out of my head or I will go mad or madder than I am.

I can not get past losing the job at bb. What if I did fuck up. I should be teaching in new york in my six bedroom house. I should n ot be on disability.

I just want to go away.

NO I AM NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF.

I’ve been afraid to post what I am feeling because I don’t want to cause more grief.  I wasn’t going to post it at all but I gotta get the demon out.

My marriage, my job, T, the house—all of it…I thought I could never get through the loss of these things. The absence of these thnings in my life. But I did.

But I can’t get past this job. That was my purpose and future here. What the fuck good am i? except as papa’s caregiver. Which is a pretty huge frucking thing.

I pray. I try to let God in. Christ in. I read the scriptures.

I have so fucking much to be grateful for. Health. Never be homeless. Family. Angel. Pie. Disability. Health insurance.

But I just go through the day tamping down the endless divots in my head from the violent, no holds barred, polo match the 2 wolves are having inside me.

I don’t want to be a substitute teacher.

I am so afraid of the germs out there. It makes not sense. But I just want to go away. I was handling it when I was working—but now I can’t.

Go back and volunteer…humiliated.

Every time I think I have gotten through the darkness at the bottom a new bottom appears.

Penny, Paul…

HELLO.—GOD thank you.

I just feel like my am bursting at the seams.

Get a social life. Volunteer. Easier said than done. I am not going to do online dating. Every time in my life I have looked for a man to rescue me. i can’t this time

"A blanket of sadness hit me, settling deep into my soul. I’m never going to have such happiness, I thought. I’ll never have such a life. I’m nothing but a slave to these two people who are keeping me so close. By the time I can get away from them, it will be too late. No one will ever want me. I will be too old. And after all the things that have happened to me, no one will be willing to give me a chance. I’ll never have a real husband."

I am reading elizabeth’s smart’s story. That’s how I feel.

I should be half wayt to retirement. Have money, savings…

Iw as making a difference at bb. I can’t work at mcdonald’s.

Stupid fucking selfish me. I think I can’t get through the next minute but I do.

I don’t like living like this.

I just want to be back at the front desk at bb. I’d do better.

I want to be able to rest in the peace of GODS will. I can’t. I won’/t.

I want to be not mentally defective. The fucked up one in the family.

God help me. yes. I want to help papa. But what is there for me after..what if I lose my disability…what if it never gets tbetter than this.

God and all my saints and MOTHER MARY help me please. Helpl.

GODS trying to reach out—but I am so far down in the well…

And I should be so grateful.

Bang bang

I promised GOD and I family that I would not kill myself from last Easter to the nexty. I never promised to njot feel that way.

I’m sorry. I am just so fucking sorry. I just want to go away.

I want a husband and a job that doesn’t make me sick and life that matters.

I put the signed and notorized papers in the mail today to officially deed in lieu of my house.

What’s the point

My whole existence is taking care of papa. That is my job. Outside of that nothing matters. I’m luck I’ve got that. That I have a room and barbies and cigarettes.

Where’s the bottom…where…

Yeah. Hi. Do you want to be my friend?

I should love this! I am not working! People dream of this. Win the lottery and not work. But I can’t get out of the well. Or don’t want to.

Posting as is.

I;’m trying to feed the right wolf.

All I ever wanted was to be a wife and fit into somebody’s plan..

THY WILL BE DONE.

I’m sorry I’m a fuck up.≥

Satan get thee behind me.

Demons I call you by name—get the fuck out of me.

I am gonna eat now and watching me. nothing would seem amiss except someshaking. But it’s all wrong. I did this. I fucking own it.

I can’t go back to bb. I clawed and stuffed envelopes and sorted expired food for two days a week athe desk and a chance to interact with clients—women loiike me.

I’m not going back to sitting on the dusty floor sorting books that no one give a fuck about.

GOD, to returns. We have a defective one here.

Maybe this is supposed to be my life. As is. Maybe I am selfish indulgent bitch brat.

I doubt. i’m sorry GOD.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

YES I WANT TO BE HERE IN THE HOLY CITY. I WANT TO TAKE CARE OF PAPA.