hold your breath til you come back up in full

[femmealunettes]

I feel pretty much like warmed-over ass right now.

This is the day I make myself walk, though. I can feel the darkness settling into the places the little white pills should have been, and being alone just makes it worse, so: strapping on my big-girl shoes and taking a hike to the pharmacy. Possibly with a stop at the candy shop.

I thought I mentioned this already, but a quick scan over my recent posts didn't show it, so: insomniac_tales is running a writing game, possibly based on mappalujo, at bedfellows. So if you're interested, peek at it.


Now, before I get dressed and go, I was tagged by dearjohnnycash for a meme, so:
a. list seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself
b. tag seven people to do the same
c. do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it"

1. I make a big deal about little things, while ignoring big things. For example: I'm very fussy about rinsing my plates when I put them in the sink, and I get freakishly nauseated by the catbox, but I can forget to eat for days and can go for a long time without making any actual real-time human contact without really noticing until my hands start shaking or until my phone rings and it's actually a person and not a bill collector.

2. My memory is crappy-- I can never remember what I've put on memes like this before, so I try to avoid what I think of as "the usuals"-- I wasn't supposed to have been born, I write funny, I stabbed myself in the eye as a kid, etc-- but then I end up putting stupid things, which is why I don't like doing this meme.

3. I'm more beholden to 'tags' than I am to personal duty, sometimes. I would rather do arbitrary things that 'need to be done' than anything I should be doing, almost always. This would make me a very good shut-in housewife, I think.

4. I have a very hard time shutting myself up, which leads to a hard time sleeping, a hard time admitting when I'm wrong, a hard time figuring out how to make amends, and a constant litany of why, after I've fucked up, no one would want to have contact with me again. Common sense has nothing on the neurotic inner monologue.

5. There is a very clear pattern in my history, early on because of the other person and more recently because of me, where sexual experience leads to a cutting off of communication. I don't know if it's because of shame embedded from those first times, or simply because I'm a fuckup, but if you like me, don't have sex with me. I'm a headcase.

6. I can't self-injure. I'm too scared to hurt myself. But I'm clumsy enough to bruise and scrape often enough, and once I have a cut I will not let up until it scars. For my low-impact geek life, I have a lot of scars I shouldn't, just because won't let things heal up for weeks or even months. My right elbow had a cut for three months straight; the scar is already gone, and that's kind of disappointing.

7. I will be 23 in six months. I have never expected to live past the age of 30. This gives me seven years and six months to do everything I've always wanted to do before I think I'm going to die, even though I probably have more than that. The problem is that I can't even figure out what I want to do in the next week, so filling up the other 387 weeks is kind of daunting. I just... don't have goals, which is not a good thing, I guess. I set myself little tasks just so I can say "hey, I did that" to keep my mind off the fact that I don't care about doing things-- I don't really want to see the world, get married, have kids, work a 9-to-5, buy a house and a car... Part of me thinks that if I'd never lost my religion, I would have a point to my life right now. Part of me doesn't care.

Part of me thinks it's time to go get my fucking medication...

Tagging: storylandqueen, omgimnaked, captainemo411, traceace, kimberlyfdr, and victoriansquid.

I'm holding out for the end of winter. It takes so long for the green to come back to the trees, but it's worth the wait.