MsPsychos Thoughts

15 Minutes to Live

2011-05-21T17:43:00.005-05:00

Is it The End of the World?

According to some predictions I now have less than 2 hours to live, and out of all the things I could be doing, I have chosen to write down a few last thoughts.

I woke up around 9am after the pain in my arm began to become so severe, that I was forced out of bed to retrieve some over the counter pain medication. I swallowed the two pills with a sip a water from a bottle that sat on my dresser, then I sat down on the edge of my bed so I could put on my knee brace. I hate wearing the damn thing, but since it's my last day to live, I thought I would do one of the top things I enjoy doing in life, gardening. But, I can’t dig without having my knee supported, so I pulled the thing up over my calf muscle, up to my knee and tightened down the straps.

I love planting flowers, especially the ones that can be cut and brought inside. But I also like the process of starting the plants from seed and the digging into the dark, rich soil with my bare hands. The aroma of the earth for me is intoxicating and so relaxing that I could almost lay down in it for a short nap. It’s almost better than the bubble bath that I always take after a long day of gardening.

Today felt strange the very second I walked out to my garden. Everybody in my neighborhood was outside doing something or the other, but I guess that is to be expected when the world is about to end. I could hear all of them chatting loudly to each other, but I could not make out what they were saying. I smiled as I briefly looked up at the beautiful sun shinning just above my head, and giggled a little at the idea that my life might be over in just a few short hours.

I pushed the thought away and began digging up the large flower bed that I share with my neighbor. The pills that had taken earlier had finally kicked in, making my arm feel numb to any pain, so I began pushing myself harder and faster as I dug up the earth. After digging up a corner section, I began bending down and breaking up the larger chunks of earth with my hands. The bending up and down quickly made me feel dizzy and I had to stop for a few minutes to recover.

I went inside for a drink of water and grabbed a washrag to wipe the sweat from my face. This Oklahoma heat had sweat pouring from all possible places on my body. I took a couple more sips and then I headed back out the door to do some more digging. The moment I stepped outside, I began hearing sirens blaring from a short distance away. I began digging in another corner of the garden as I continued to listen to the sounds echoing throughout town. When one would stop, another would begin. I don’t know if there was some emergency nearby, or maybe they too were just preparing for the end of the world. Whatever it was, it was beginning to make me feel nauseous, but I pushed on though the discomfort I was feeling.

I spent a little over 2 hours digging up the soil and removing all the grass roots, before I was able to plant several packages of various sunflowers along the back of the garden. In the front of the sunflowers, I planted purple cone flowers, foxglove, asters, zinnias, dahlias, balsam, a variety of mixed cut flowers, and finally in front I placed several Lily's that I had started indoors a few months ago. If the predictions come true, I’ll never get to see what it will all looks like, but I still smile when I think about the possibilities.

I wanted to stay outside longer, but the sound of the sirens blaring loudly forced me to retreat inside for that nice relaxing bubble bath. I carefully removed the brace from my leg that was now soaked with sweat and let it drop on the floor with the dirty clothes I had already taken off. A jolt of pain ripped through my body as if I had been shocked. I massaged my knee gently, seeking some sort of relief from the intense pain, but I found no relief until I slipped into the warm relaxing tub of water. Instantly, I was able to block out all the distractions that were going on around me, which helped me to relax enough that the pain I was feeling finally stopped.

I laid in the tub until my body began to feel cold. It was then, that the sound of the sirens returned. From outside I could hear more sirens, sounding even closer than before. Over the sounds I could hear people shouting and screaming. Fears that maybe they were right about the world ending, I quickly got dressed and headed out my front door to find out what was going on.

Near my garden I could see my next door neighbor and other emergency personal standing around. There were two paramedics doing CPR on a woman laying on the ground. I rushed over to see what was going on. My neighbor had tears in her eyes, and several of the emergency people were starting to walk away, shaking their head sadly.

I started asking people what was going on, but no one seemed to know. They just stood there looking down at the woman on the ground. It was then that I looked down and saw the person on the ground. I began shaking my head back and forth. It couldn’t be true. I wasn’t suppose to die until 6pm with the rest of the world. I had a few more hours to live. It wasn’t fair.

The sound of the sirens stopped and the people outside went back to their homes. As a bright light appeared from the sky, I began floating slowly above the ground. I looked down at my garden and saw all the beautiful flowers and smiled.

I still wonder if the world when end at 6pm... Guess I’ll never know.

Bitch Please! Get Down on Your Mother Fucking Knees!

2011-04-28T02:09:00.001-05:00

Bitch please!
Get down on your motherfucking knees!

At any other time those words might mean I'm about to have a little fun...lol. But not this time.

Waiting. I was never the patience type. Especially when it comes to possible bad news. It stresses me thinking about all the most horrible outcomes.

Might want to duck when I drive through town.
Yeah I’m about to act like a clown.
Doing a drive by
Playing tag with Satan.

Don’t give me no shit.
I’m gonna get’re done and split.

It’s been a really rough in the past 30 days. I thought about going on that shooting spree only about 10 times or so. I’m tired of feeling like I’m being punched in the gut...just wish I could get it to stop.

It all started with my dryer going out. Okay. No big deal. I’ve got a little extra money saved just in case something goes wrong with ... Life. Three hundred dollars, and same day delivery, I had a good, but used dryer.

The next Friday, I had plans to take my 05 Equinox into the shop for some routine maintenance on the fluids. When I get there I tell the service guy that I’ve also been having problems with my air conditioner not working correctly. Never mention things like that unless you’ve got more money!

The air conditioner has a bad leak and needs to be replace. Good news is the repairs are covered under my extended warranty I purchased. They covered around one thousand dollars, and I was left with around a two hundred and eighty dollar bill, which included a forty dollar oil change. Just breathe, I remind myself.

A week later, I’m driving around town and I notice my car is not acting right. I stop at Wal-Mart and I shut my car off, get out, and I can still hear a fan or something under the hood running. I re-start my car and the noise stops. Okay. No problem, but it sets my mind running a thousand different scenarios on what the problem could possible be. I go inside to do my weekly shopping, come back out and the car starts with no noise, no sensors on, so I drive back home safely.

A couple days later I have to pick up a few forgotten items from the last trip, so off to Wal-Mart I go again. My Suv is fine on the drive there, but on the way back, I can hear that strange sound again coming from under my hood as I head the mile or so back up the highway. As I near the main light in town, I see the turn lane signal turning red and I begin braking more. My car suddenly begins cutting out, so I quickly jump back into the straight lane and keep going straight so I can go the back way to my house without possibly breaking down in the middle of the highway. I make it to the next exit and get off the main highway. As I near the stop my car begins to cut out again, so I pause and after making sure if was clear, I quickly turn towards my place. I round the corner and I see my check engine light come on. FUCK!

As my world spins out of control, I get dizzy.

I quickly pull over and my car dies the second I come to a complete stop. I turn the car off and begin searching for my phone. I can hear the fan running as it tries to cool off the engine. My friend is gone into Tulsa, my son is at work, and the extra car at my house is in need of some serious repairs before it can be driven. I call my son back, who works just up the road at our Wal-Mart, and he finally manages to talk his supervisor into letting him take a early break so he could come help me.

Almost 20 minutes had passed, and the noise that it was making had stopped after about 5 minutes of running, so I decide to try starting my car. It sounded like it was running normally, and since I was less than a mile from my house, I decided to chance driving the short distance. Half way there I come up to one more stop. Just as I’m about to stop, the gauge that shows my car was overheating came on, and so did that noise. I only had 5 blocks to go, so I took the chance and rounded the corner. I was speeding a little as I passed a local officer on patrol, but thankfully he looked the other way and didn’t really feel like fucking with me. (Thank you!) I was already stressed enough. Along with having low blood sugar at the point, it might not have been a good day for either of us.

I get home and call my tow service to tell them about the problem. A few hours later a wrecker shows up and tows my car back to the dealership for repairs. I hoping whatever is wrong, it will again be covered under my extended warranty. Fingers crossed! Late the next day, I hear good news...sorta. My thermostat is out and needs replaced, but it’s covered under warranty. They replace the thermostat and take it for a test drive. A few hours later, I’m expecting the call that my car is ready and I’ll only have to pay the $100 deductible. NO! I also have a plugged radiator. It’s plug supposedly because the fluids needed change.

Remember to breathe, I have to repeatedly remind myself. Repair bill $980 fucking dollars. Breathe! Repairs are done the next day. I drive away with the radio at more than half volume.

It’s about 12 miles going south, straight down highway 75, and then another mile and I’m home. Barely! The car is overheating again and I’m just able to make to my driveway. I call the dealership and they apologize over and over before sending a tow truck back to pick up the vehicle again!

“He fucking hates me!”

(Hold on, let me get my head right. Deep, deep breath.)

Later that afternoon, my 18 year-old son begins telling me he has to have one hundred and thirty dollars for football speed and strength camp. He had the sign-up paper for weeks, but had forgot to let me know so I could plan for the expense. The money had to be turned in the next day or the price would go up another fifty dollars! Okay. It’s going to be a little tight for a while, but I’ll do alright.

To no one in particular... FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, AND FUCK YOU!

At this point, I’m ready to explode. It’s the weekend, so why not do a little drinking to help me unwind! Late that evening, around 9:30pm, I fix one drink, but I am barely able to finish it because my stomach which was already doing flip flops, now begins to turn sideways. I stop drinking. Around 1am, I slowly made my way into the comfort of my dark bedroom. My stomach continues to make strange noises as I attempt to sleep. Around 3 am, I finally drift off into a deep sleep, but only 20 minutes into my slumber, my stomach decides it can no longer handle the tossing of fluids around inside my gut.

I’m thinking to myself as I’m rushing to the bathroom, holding in my cheeks the disgusting liquid that has filled my throat to it’s maximum, that there is no way I drank enough to make myself sick. Violently the contents of my stomach explode into the toilet until I felt I could no longer breathe. The vile taste in my mouth remained as I slowly made my way back to bed for what I was hoping would be the end of a horrible day.

I took a few sips of water from a bottle that sat on my side table and laid back down to rest. Within 30 seconds after the water hit my stomach, I was rocked with a wave of nausea and knew it was not going to remain in my stomach. I jumped up quickly, afraid that I wasn’t going to make it on time. On my second step, I turned a little hard on my bad left knee. I heard a loud pop and then a crunching sound, followed by extreme pain.(I broke a couple bones in my knee and tore my ACL a little more.)

ReMembEr to breAthe!! Pain is rocking my body, as vile chunks of liquid seek an escape from my body. Death would be a very welcomed visitor at this point. I’m begging for it to end!

The rest of the night I continue to throw-up until I’m only puking that yellow bile, nasty, yuck stuff. I try drinking water because I feel and look dehydrated, but I can‘t hold anything down. I’m just glad I had a large trashcan beside my bed.

The next morning I’m awaken by the dealership calling about my car and they tell me they flushed the lines and refilled the antifreeze. No charge. About time for some good news. But I’m still sick and I can’t seem to wake myself up. I send a friend and my son to go pick the car up. He tells me it drove fine on the way back. Okay. Good! Now I’m going back sleep because my body feels like I’ve been run over and smashed with heavy machinery.

I sleep the entire day on Saturday. I can’t seem to make myself wake up. I can’t eat. I can’t drink anything. So I lay there drifting in and out until around 10 am on Sunday. I’m beginning to feel a little better, so I attempt to drink a small amount of water. By the end of the day, I managed to hold down one bottle of water, but I have no energy. I haven’t ate in two days and I’m scared to eat.

By Wednesday, I’m feeling well enough to make a trip back out to the store, even though I can barely walk and I still hadn’t gained all my strength back. I go drive the 2 miles to Wal-Wart and then swing around another mile to my pharmacy to pick up some meds. As I’m waiting for them to run my insurance through on some meds, I hear that sound of the fan running again. Five minutes later I pull away and the sound continues. I quickly return the finally mile back to my house and pull in the driveway just as the check engine light comes on.

Let the bodies hit the floor! Let the bodies hit the floor! Let the bodies hit the floor! The song lyrics repeatedly splashed across my thoughts.

It was too late for them to check the car, so it had to wait until the next day to be looked at. They call me around noon last Friday and tell me the head gasket maybe bad and it’s going to cost around $1000 dollars in repairs, but first they have to send the part off to another shop and it will be at least until the following Tuesday before they will know the total cost.

Breathe! Fuck breathing! I want to choke a motherfucker!

Maybe I shouldn’t let’em know what I think.
But they need to find the bodies before they begin to stink.

Today they finally called me back and gave me the news that the repairs cost around $2000 dollars at this point because the head is warped and the gaskets need to be replaced. The only good news is the repairs MIGHT be covered by my warranty, but they won’t know until tomorrow.

I need a little more of what’s right and little less of what’s left.

After all these problem, I decided to do a little research online about my 05 Equinox. Apparently a lot of people have had the same problem with their SUV’s, and believe it maybe a defect with the vehicle. Seems like to me GM is aware of these problems with the Equinox but they refuse to do anything about the problem. Hmmm.

I have now forgot how to breathe!
Loose cannon, going bi-polar.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a video game, and some motherfucker is getting his jollies by seeing how far he can push me before I snap. I can fully envision how easy it would be to go on a killing spree, removing from society those who have fucked with me.

To get rid of some of the stress, earlier I decided to clean out the garage. I'm moving things around, dragging my bad leg with me, sweeping down cobwebs from spiders that probably died years ago, re-stacking my stored Christmas decorations, until I'm starting to get a little warm. I turn on the stero in the garage and start moving some 70 pound steel hand weights up against a wall. I put the larger ones on bottom and then I go to stack a 30 pound weight on top. I'm doing this rather quickly, trying to work up a good sweat, so I'm not really paying attention and I smash the tip my left ring finger in between the 70 and 30 pound weight.

Pain surges through my body. The tip of my finger instantly turns a dark shade and blood pools under my nail. Fuck! is the only word that escapes my mouth. Over and over I repeat the word. Sweat forms on my forehead. I hold my breath.

Breathe... Sometimes I want to forget how to breathe in the air necessary for life.
Slowly let myself fade away until no one knows I ever existed.
Today is one of those days.

Wish I could rewind this month.

I know they think I’m the one.
And I’m sorry, but what I’ve done can’t be undone.

I wish their were no rules
So I would have nothing to lose.

I Surrender

2011-04-21T00:57:00.000-05:00

This too, shall pass.

2011-03-15T02:38:00.000-05:00

Let’s see if I can remember how to do this....
Deep breath!
Another.... Now breathe normal and relax.

I don’t know how to really start this, except to say I’m not dead, or in jail. Psychically I’m fair. Mentally... Well let’s just say that’s where my problem is staying for a extended vacation.

I’ve started so many different stories and thoughts, but I’ve been unable to finish any of them. I tell myself I can write, if I would only focus. But my words get lost before they find their way onto the pages for others to see.

When I first started this blog, I would walk around all day thinking about what I should write about. Back then, everything was blog material. I could see stories every where I looked. Now, my mind feels absolute blankness. The images are no longer there. I don’t see the story behind the man or woman as they move along with their daily life. Without meaning. It’s as if we are all nothing more than fake images on a computer screen.

It feels pointless to try and change. Why? For what reason should I continue? I’ve been a nobody all my life and I’m sure that’s who I will continue to be. Then I saw this quote the other day....

Don't let your past dictate your future, but let your past be part of what you become.

Deep breath again!... And again...

I enjoy writing. But to return, I have to take care of a few obsessive compulsive behaviors that I have been letting run my life for about the past year. I have to get it under control now that it has reached a peak. If I don’t control it now, it will forever control me. And that’s not the path I want to walk on.

I will return soon. Thanks everyone for hanging around.

This too, shall pass...

I Want to Write!

2011-01-30T12:26:00.000-06:00

I need to write! ....If I can find the time...:(

Looks Like I'm Not Going Anywhere

2011-01-10T16:40:00.000-06:00

Well, at least for today... It's snowing outside. Maybe I can find some time to write tonight...

Storm of Emotions

2010-12-20T02:49:00.002-06:00

My fuse is short.... If you light it... You better run fast.
Kill them with kindness... Kill them with kindness... Kill them with kind.. Kill them with... Kill them... Kill them!!

SOMEBODY! Grant me the serenity to accept the fact that some people are ignorant, the courage to uphold the law when I’m hostile, and the wisdom to realize that murder is illegal.

If it moves shoot it.
I envision bones snapping, and I enjoy the sound.

Sometimes I forget this site is my therapy, especially when things are moving along in the ‘normal’ direction. I guess it’s like the people who attend AA or NA, you have to keep going or it stops working.

It’s around 2am, and for the 4th day in a row, I can’t sleep, so I need to return to the one thing that was giving me some sort of peace... My writing.

For the past several days I have experienced extreme anger that boils up from somewhere deep inside my lower stomach and crawls it way into my thoughts. Then comes the slap across my face as homicidal and suicidal thoughts destroy my mind. Everyone that pisses me off in the wrong way, has my mind envisioning the most violent thoughts a person can have.

Only those who deserve it.
Hung with care, will the police soon be there?

6 million ways to die.
Push someone ‘accidentally’ in front of traffic?
Maybe a little rat poison in their food?
Hold their head under water...
Slice their throat?
Baseball bat to the back of their head?
Will it end in suicide?

My brain has locked on and seized this one particular thought so tightly that I can’t seem to be able to let it go without doing something ‘stupid’ to unfreeze my brain. These strange thoughts terrify me, and at times I’m afraid that my forbidden thoughts may become so powerful that they break out and I act on these thoughts. It’s wreaking havoc on my mental health.

I dream horrid dreams, and often mutter unmentionable thoughts... so pay no attention to me as I casual stroll by.

Tomorrow I have to get out of town and go ‘stalk’ someone if that is what is needed to bring me out of this state of mind before Christmas arrives.

Drinking Alone

2010-11-20T23:10:00.000-06:00

SoCo & Lime is the stuff to drink
It's for the girl that hurts when she thinks
As she looks at the last remaining shot
She sees the world as the world is not.

Tough Choice

2010-10-29T20:10:00.000-05:00

The evening is mine alone... Shall I write a story, or go out on the town for a night of revenge?

Time

2010-10-18T14:12:00.000-05:00

I need some alone time....

If I don't get some soon I'm going to ...............................................

W

2010-09-28T23:54:00.000-05:00

Sorry I haven't been around much, but I've been playing normal...
I'm not sure if it's working out.

Secrets...

2010-09-19T16:53:00.000-05:00

but I'm afraid of what others might think.

9/11

2010-09-11T21:09:00.000-05:00

youtube video ... 9/11 Respect

Memories

2010-09-06T23:45:00.001-05:00

Memory is a funny thing.
It holds back information, I guess.
Protecting us from the horror of truth.
Only allowing us edited versions of events.
Yet the mind knows.
It has to, in order to know what to hold back.
And that's what troubles me.

Today I learned...

2010-08-29T02:04:00.000-05:00

Not to go digging around in old haunts...

because you might dig up some ghosts from a long ago forgotten past.

Gotta Carve Out SomeTime to Write

2010-08-23T01:26:00.002-05:00

Same time, same place everyday...

Today I'm a Different Person?

2010-08-08T01:20:00.001-05:00

I started this blog on December 31, 2005 with a plan in mind. Like a lot of other people I thought about the variety of ways that I could improve my life in the coming new year. Making a resolution is easy. The hard part is following through with that promise made from deep conviction.

A part of me was determined to find the peace that legal drugs had failed to help me discover. So, I wrote out a promise to myself to try something different, to walk down a different path than the one I had been on for the past 20 plus years. Since the age of 18, I had been on some sort of legal drugs, off and on every few months for my psychiatric disorders.

Just a few months before I started this blog, I quit taking the lithium that the psychiatrist had prescribed for my bi-polar disorder. I hated the way it made me feel nothing. No highs, no lows, just blank wondering around most of the time. When the drugs finally left my body, I felt alive...on top of the world! I wanted to keep that feeling alive for as long as possible. I rode that roller-coaster to the highest possible point and tossed my hands up as I rode it down to the bottom. The hard part was crawling my way back up to the top, feeling like I was pulling the roller-coaster carts behind me.

For 20 years when this ride occurred I would seek the help of whatever quack doctor my insurance would pay for, and take whatever type of drug was offered until my mood stabilized. I never learned how to deal with the highs and lows without using medication. I let whatever the latest pill was, take care of my problems. Problem was, it never took care of the problem. The pills only made it all easier to deal with.

With all this in mind, I started blogging with the determination for the first time in 20 years to ride the roller-coaster without any type of psychiatric drugs. I have to say, it has been an incredible fucking ride! Sometimes I take a sharp left, but then things correct themselves and I’m again going the right way. I have days when things are just not clear, but other days I’m so high up, I can see for miles.

At the end of this year I will have been on here, and off of psychiatric drugs for 5 years. I feel like a completely different person than I was 5 years ago. I’ve learned how to deal with some of my ‘strange’ behaviors, and I’m sure I’ve have a lot more to work on. But I’m doing it on my own terms. Some (law enforcement) may think I still need to be on medication, and maybe they are right, but I just don’t see the same picture right now.

I jump right in. Sometimes without looking.

I’ll do what I have to do, even if it means just simply sitting in front of the police department watching them, and knowing that it’s fucking with their head wondering what I’m doing.

I’m just trying to feel some sort of control. Trying to figure out my own way to stabilize my mood, without using psychiatric drugs.

Life is short, forgive sooner and always keep smiling.

Why do I do this?

2010-07-30T01:04:00.002-05:00

To feel some sort of control...

My Bad Day

2010-07-21T01:10:00.002-05:00

I’ve never been a social person. I guess most of that comes from the fact that when growing up I had very little contact with other people in social settings. Over the years I have learned to adapt to most any situation, but then there are moments when all I want to do is resort back to a more barbaric way of handling things. Maybe I should just let MsPsycho handle all things....?

My 7 year old tv began experiencing difficulties in working correctly, and although I don’t watch much tv, I do have a few select shows that I enjoy watching, so when it failed to come on, I headed out the door in search of another one. Knowing I didn’t have a lot of money, I decided to search at a couple of different pawn shops hoping to find one that wouldn’t cost too much. The first shop I stopped at offered only a couple of small tv’s that harbored pounds of dust. The next pawn shop looked cleaner, but the parking lot was full.

I had a friend drop me off near the door while he and my son looked for a parking spot. The moment I opened the door I should have turned around and walked right back out, but I spotted several nice clean tv’s sitting on a corner shelf, so I stepped on inside. A young, black girl standing near the door, holding merchandise to pawn, stepped towards me just as I enter the door, which caused me to bump into her slightly. I said a low excuse, while she just stared at me.

Ignoring her, I walked on over near the tv’s and found one that had a nice price and looked good. As I’m standing there looking at the others, I can hear this bitch behind me talking about how I had just bumped into her. I tried to ignore her stupidity, but it continued to mount as she continued to throw out insults. I almost snapped!

I took a deep breath.... Bitch do you realize I will go psycho on your ass in about three seconds flat. I will beat you down to the ground and keep stomping your face until the police pull me off your bloody stupid ignorant self. I have been to the Pen and I won’t put up with some low life bitch that needs to grow the fuck up! Deep breath, .... and I put MsPsycho behind the curtains for a moment.

I turn around from the tv’s and walk back near the girl. I look her in the face and again I say excuse me loud enough for everyone to hear. I exit the store and get to the car just as they find a parking spot. I just shake my head and tell them they didn’t have any nice tv’s.

Eventually, I found a tv, but never again will I search at a pawn shop that is really busy. The anti-social, bi-polar, fucked up person inside of me (MsPsycho) might be hard to contain next time.

Part two of my day....

After several hours of having the most vial thoughts about that woman, I had to head home to my happy place. There is one thing that relaxes my body and mind more than anything else, and it’s not marijuana. (Even though that does help.:) I find my peace in my little 18 foot above ground pool that I got from Wal-Mart. During the summer I will spend at least an hour or more everyday, cleaning out the pool, exercising, swimming, and floating in the water, absorbing the vitamin d from the sun.

Just as I changed into my clothes to head to the backyard, my neighbor/friend calls, panicking about how her husband didn’t want to spend 10 dollars at the PUBIC pool for just an hour of swimming for his 3 kids. Apparently he didn’t get off his lazy ass and get them their on time to swim longer. So, she wants to know if they can all swim in my pool. I finally agree, but tell her she has to watch them. I can tell in her voice that she doesn’t want to watch them either. (They’re not our fucking kids....MsPsycho whispers in my ear.)

I tell her that I’m watching a show on tv, so she says the 12 year old can watch the 7 and 5 year old. I’m thinking not a good idea, but I finally agree. Thirty minutes later they show up, but with a couple other kids from the neighborhood that heard they were going swimming and wanted to come.

Deep breathe.... I don’t have a fucking community pool! This is my private pool for me to enjoy! Not for every dirty little snot nosed kid in the neighborhood! This is MY happy place! Every motherfucker on this block probably makes more money than I do. If you want to let your kids enjoy a pool, then you save money to buy one. That’s what I have to do. I don’t make over 100 thousands dollars a fucking year.... but you do! You put in the time to set up the pool, fill it with water, pay the water bill, buy the chemicals needed to keep the water clear, clean it out everyday. Then when I come asking if I can swim in your little personal sized pool, I wonder what you will have to say. Fuck people! You’re fucking up my space!! Deep breathe! And MsPsycho steps behind the curtain.

You guys have fun, just be careful. I walked off to my room and smoked a joint.
We’re much better now.

Had A Bad Day

2010-07-19T01:59:00.000-05:00

Had a Bad Day

More to come...

Am I God's Tragic Mistake?

2010-07-06T00:34:00.000-05:00

No Matter how Many "Watch Your Step" Signs There are... I always seem to fall.

Damn it! I went left.

I don’t think my brain needs 'crazy pills' to rescue itself. My mind is just tilted in odd directions, and that can’t be a mistake. It has become a part of who I am. But after time running up and down stairs can wear down even the toughest, leading the person to consider suicide. That’s where I use to go. Now when it becomes too much, I run into the lions den, which might not be a real good idea, but it works. The chemical shift in my brain occurs, and I once again return to ‘normal’. Sometimes I pay a high price for my ‘stupidity’, but if death was the alternative, which would you choose?

Someone once told me that I enjoyed having others think about me, that’s why I repeatedly drive past law enforcement. A part of me does... it’s the tiny, squeaky little voice wondering around that loves to giggle at the thought that she’s manipulating them into wondering what the fuck she’s up too. Then there are other parts of my brain that shouts at me, asking me what the fuck am I doing? The OCD part of me tells me if I don‘t, something seriously bad will happen later.

I’ve tried on many occasions to convince myself that nothing bad would happen if I got near law enforcement. I wasn’t going to stab them, I wasn’t going to attempt to choke, I wasn’t going to pull out a weapon and shoot them, and in return... If I got near them, they wouldn’t attempt to stab, choke, or shoot me. But I have a hard time trying to convince my mind of this reality when I am near them. Sometimes when I know they are in some store, I will go into the store for the sole purpose of trying to persuade myself that nothing bad is going to happen.

People just don’t realize how hard it really is to be me. It is exhausting trying to following the right voice, and not the wrong one. Sometimes a part of me is willing to do anything to return to some state of normal, even if it means driving around the police department 20 times, or doing some other random stupid act that leads to their intervention. If I didn’t do it, I would have probably already taken someone’s life, or at least my mind has me convinced that is what will happen.

I might have went too far this time, which could lead to serious consequences if everything continues to go left. But it has re-sifted my mind enough that I slept for 9 solid hours of sleep last night. I’m thinking differently now, and things that were previously unclear are now in focus. My brain has temporally corrected itself without the use of medication.

All I have to say right now is ...

2010-07-01T13:40:00.000-05:00

FUCK!

I Tried to Write....but this is all I could do.

2010-06-29T01:38:00.001-05:00

I let the anger boil until it was overflowing, spilling out in a violent rush as I stood in line, sizing him up. I could take him.

I’ve been trying to do other activities that keep me from thinking as much, like painting. Problem is painting is not a good thing to do when you are angry, and I really tend to think too much, which is not a good thing right now. I’ve got to get away from everybody and everything for a little while. Some type of distraction... Anybody got any good ideas? Any idea has got to better than the ideas that are running around in my head right now.

I want to go right, not left, but I can’t figure out which direction is right.

Blogging

2010-06-23T17:09:00.000-05:00

First of all, let me thank everyone who has joined my site recently. Normally I would visit your blog the day you joined mine, but I decided to take a short break from my blogging addiction/therapy. I promise I will soon visit your blogs, and get caught up on many of the other blogs I follow.

Taking a break from blogging has allowed other doors to open, but it has also allowed some of my other addictions to thrive. I want to post about what's going on, but I have fears that law enforcement still occasionally check in on my blog, so I have to be careful what I say anymore. I'm good at keeping secrets. It'll be another thing that I hide behind the black curtain in my mind.

I first started blogging with hope that it would somehow let other people understand why I... do the things I do. Deep down I think everybody has the need to feel understood. To be able to explain why and have others understand. Another reason I started blogging was to halt some of my own actions, and not let all the voices in my head frolic around in their own direction. It's like a circus in my head right now with thoughts jumping through hoops of fire, while others hang tediously by a thin rope high in the air.

I'll never see normal. This is as normal as I'll ever be. Forever dealing with psycho thoughts. But I REFUSE, even under a court order to take medication that only dulls my mind and allows me feel.... nothing.

I go to court Thursday morning for my illegal passing. I've managed to save the $169 and paid the fine earlier today, but I still have to appear before the judge. I've made it through the 3 months probation without getting another ticket, but what the judge doesn't understand is, that's normal for me. I will sometimes go long periods of time without an encounter with law enforcement, but a shift in my brain chemicals will quickly send me right back out at 1am driving around in my circles, or recklessly driving a little too fast in the afternoon. I still don't think the police have figured out why I have to drive past them 4 times if I see them standing outside their cars...lol. Gotta love OCD.

Thanks everyone for visiting my blog. I look forward to reading yours. Have a wonderful day.

Funny thought for the day... If someone threw a rock and knocked me off my donkey... Would I be stoned off my ass? Hhmmm?

Stay Tuned...

2010-05-25T16:24:00.000-05:00

Going to find the part of me that hasn’t giving up and try to convince the part of me that has giving up, that it will be alright.

Therapy cost... This is free.

2010-05-11T01:51:00.002-05:00

I began writing when I was only 9 years old. It was always a way for me to escape to another place that was more pleasant than the reality around me. But even my writing back then showed the pain I was living through daily. I never wrote about seeing a double rainbow, about walking through a fragrant field of flowers,or any other type of happy thoughts. When happy thoughts occur, I never felt the need to express myself like I do when the 'dark' thoughts surface. So, forgive me if this blog is sometimes quite depressing, but that is partly what this blog is for.

Today I spent a little time reading some of the poems and other writing that I have accumulated over the years. Mostly because recently I've felt like giving up writing, because I have no belief in my writing abilities. I want to recapture that feeling I felt years ago when I truly believed that one day I would be a writer. I feel like I've lost that, and I want it back.

Here's a short poem I wrote when I was 12 years old. I remember being so excited when I had finished writing and re-writing the lines until I felt it was perfect. Of course it was never going to be perfect, but the satisfaction I felt when it was complete is what I want to feel once again.

The Little Doll

She sits alone on the bottom shelf
With rosy pink cheeks and curly blond hair.

Then nasty big hands picked her up
And only violent games did they play.

Twisting and pulling,
Body parts are easy to break.

But it doesn’t hurt,
Because dolls can’t cry.

They only suffer in silence
And die a little inside.

That Other Voice

2010-05-03T03:14:00.001-05:00

The time I kill is killing me

2010-04-24T01:42:00.003-05:00

The time I normal would spend with my older son, is now my time. And to be honest I don’t really want it. I already have enough empty time on my hands. I miss the special early morning bonding with him when he was only a year old and it was just him and me. ....gotta take a break. Sorry I was having several flashbacks to some special moments we have shared over the years. Damn it sounds like he died or something, or moved a thousand miles away, but he hasn’t. He moved in with some friends that live less than a mile from here. I miss him, but I know he’s growing up and wanting to have a life of his own. Still, I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.

There is where my problem lies. With time. It has passed too quickly. He was conceived in November 1988. That was such a long time ago, but it still feels like a few blinks of my eye. I notice time too much now. Each night I go to lay down and as my head hits the pillow I think to myself, “wasn’t I doing this just a few minutes ago?” I need to find something that will make my days feel more memorable. I miss the excitement of new things. It’s not like when I was in my teens and twenties where everyday brought the possibility of something new. Now at 43, I feel like........ There’s nothing for me to do.

Tonight I sit here alone, with a clean house and nothing to do with my time but play games on face book. There’s no yelling at the boys to behave or that’s it’s time for bed...etc. Readjusting to life without them both there is hard. At one point in my life, I truly looked forward to my years when I would no longer have to pick up their dirty socks from the floor, yell at them to pick up their rooms, or to get their chores done. Now that time has arrived, and wish I could go back and do it all over again.

My younger sons 17th birthday was on Monday the 12th but we celebrated it on Saturday the 10th. It gave me a reason to call my older son and have him stop by. It allowed us to have a talk, and I let him know that I was still there if he needed anything. Since then he has stopped by a couple times and picked up his mattress, bedding, more clothing, food, and of course I gave him several boxes of dishes that I had brought last year just for him. Back then when I bought the stuff, I knew this day was coming, but it’s almost like a sudden death in the family... You don’t quite know how to react until it happens.

My moods have been rapidly running up and down hills and through valleys, and frequently getting lost in the woods. There have been recent days when thoughts of death are my constant companion. Then I take a breath and remember, I still have time to put in with my 17-year-old, and that alone is what allows me to see streaks of sunlight peeking through the trees and warming my face.

FUCK!!

2010-04-08T21:12:00.000-05:00

I'm in need of a distraction.

I just wish it would rain so I could go walk out in it and let it pour over my face.

Time is free, but it's Priceless

2010-04-08T00:22:00.001-05:00

Today has been a long day, and I should be in bed staring at the back of my eyelids, but instead I‘m thinking too much again. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because I was thinking about court and about my older son moving out. I finally made it asleep around 5am only to be woke up at 8:30am by my younger son because the person he was riding with ran out of gas and needed my help. By the time I got them off to school I figured I might as well stay awake and get some shopping done.

Problem was I couldn’t concentrate long enough to remember everything I was needing to pick up. So after an hour of wondering around lost in Wal-Mart, I gave up and instead visited Morris park. It gave me time to think about what I wanted to do with my court and what I wanted to say to my older son.

After 2 hours of walking around looking at nature and taking a few pictures, the decision about court was quickly settled. I would be broke, but the fine would be paid in full and more importantly I wouldn’t have to appear in court. I drove to city hall as I continued thinking about my older son moving out.

He’s 19 years old, turns 20 in August, but I still worry so much about him. I want him to succeed where I failed. I’ve given up a lot of things to make sure he had a good chance. Now I don’t know if I did enough. I fully understand him wanting to be out on his own, but I also fear him screwing it up and I have to be the one to bail him out again.

That’s not what’s bothering me right now.... I figure if he fucks up, oh well, he will learn, experience is the best teacher. My problem is ..... Letting him go. There are tears now. He was my baby. My first born. His presences forever altered my life. He was my reason I got out of bed every morning just so I could see his beautiful smile.

Now he’s a grown man wanting to have a life of his own. I knew the day was coming, I just didn’t think it would be so soon. It just hit me hard a couple hours ago when I was moving some of his things to another room. I stared at his baby pictures hanging on the wall, the picture of his cute little smile he had on his face one year when he convinced me to buy him a baby duck, all the years of football pictures, and then there sat his senior picture... I broke into tears. My little man has grown up. Time has passed too quickly.

I think I need to get some sleep now.

Second Chance

2010-04-07T00:11:00.000-05:00

I screwed up again. At least it wasn’t a negative thing this time. I thought my court date was on the 6th which is what the court clerk told me when I called her to change the date last month, but when I drove by the police department there wasn’t anyone there. I was a little early, but not so early that no one else would be there. I thought Tuesday night was a odd night for court, but I found the paper where I had wrote down the 6th. I either wrote it down wrong or the court clerk gave me the wrong date.

City hall was still open, so I drove there to see how much the fine was and maybe just pay the ticket. The fine was $199 which was a little more than I had on me, and I found out the court date wasn’t until Thursday. Now I just need to come up with a little more money in two days and avoid going to court. Anyone care to donate?...lol.

Storms are moving in, so I'm going to get off here for the night.

Starting New

2010-04-06T01:34:00.000-05:00

I have court tomorrow, and I still haven't told the people around me the truth about what I'm really going to court for. So stress is really impeding my thinking process. Not only do I have court, but I'm also dealing with my 19 year old thinking about quitting Spartan College and wanting to move out to live with friends. I also find out through the grapevine that my sisters house burned down to the ground two weeks ago. My first thought when I found out was why didn't she call and let me know? Am I hated that much by my own family?

I want to write more on this, but I'm having a hard time putting words together. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, too much stress worrying about the outcome of my court, or wondering why I'm still hated by my family.

I hope everything goes smooth with the court, but sometimes I never know what's going to happen. I keep telling myself that this will be the last time I go to court, but then my reckless mind takes me to other places.

But maybe it's time to start new again. My sister is going to have to start new, my 19-year-old is about to start his new life, so maybe this is the time for me to start with a new promise to stay away from my reckless behavior. It can't hurt, and all I can do is try.

I'm Fine

2010-04-05T01:49:00.001-05:00

I Yearn for a Sense of Purpose That Will Define My Place in This World

2010-04-02T00:55:00.001-05:00

Several years ago I read a short story similar to the one below, but it had a different, happier ending. I don't recall how it was exactly written, so I'm going to write my version...

My life..

Chapter 1

I’m walking down the street minding my own business.
I don’t see the deep hole in sidewalk.
I fall in.
I can’t see any light around me.
I feel helpless, stupid, worthless.
Everything is my fault.
It takes years to find a way out.

Chapter 2

I’m walking down the same street.
There is that deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I hit bottom, but this time
I’m standing in 2 feet of mud.
I feel so stupid,
I can’t believe I’m in the same place again.
It’s all my fault.
It takes a long time to dig my way out.

Chapter 3

I walk down the same street.
There is that deep hole in the sidewalk again.
I see it has gotten bigger.
I easily fall in,
It seemed like the safe thing to do.
I can’t see anything.
Others are needed to help me out this time.
The fault lies inside me.

Chapter 4

I walk down that same street.
I immediately see the increasing larger hole in the sidewalk.
I try to step around it,
But it pulls me in
until I’m laying face down in the mud at the bottom.
I don’t know how to find my way out.
I have learned nothing.
It’s years before I’m able to wash all the mud off.

Chapter 5

I still haven’t figured out how to walk down another street.

----------------------------

Originally chapter 5 took the person down a different road. But I got lost on my way trying to find another road. I need to find the happy ending in chapter 5... That's the hard part.

Still Awake

2010-04-01T02:56:00.001-05:00

Listening to YouTube Videos... hehe..
Comrads... Homeboyz

Potential Victims

2010-04-01T00:19:00.000-05:00

Operating on 3 hours of sleep and still going out again tomorrow.

Potential Victims

I think I'm going to scope out the neighbors house...hehe. Let's see if we can have a little fun...hehe.

Mind Hating Self --- Anybody Got a Really Big Shovel They Can Loan Me?

2010-03-18T01:54:00.003-05:00

I’ve been trying to figure out how I’m going to dig my way out of this gigantic hole I’ve dug for myself at some unknown location, where no one is able to locate me. Not sure if I want to be found right now anyway, but I’ve been here for a couple weeks and if I don’t start looking for a way out, I might be lost for a long time.

My impulsive actions sent me out late back on the 4th, wondering around in my circles again, which led to another stop for doing a u-turn. It wasn’t illegal, just caught law enforcements eyes at almost 1am. It was an officer that I hadn’t had contact with, anyway I didn’t recognize his face and I don’t think he knew me. I handed over my insurance and ID, then he went back to his car to checked me out in the system. When he returned, I could tell by his actions, that he was informed to who I was. He gave me back my insurance and ID, then asked me a couple questions. The one that stayed in my mind was when he asked if I was okay. I should have been honest and said no, I’m not okay right now. But I know what that would mean. A trip to the psych ward. So I lied, and drove away without breathing, and without a ticket.

Friday the 5th was even worse. Anger was raging deep inside me for no known reason. The universe felt foreign, and I wasn’t willing to be a part of anything the world was offering. I was hating everybody and everything they were doing. Little things annoyed the hell out of me as I tried to complete a forgotten task. And when I stopped to think about it all, it caused me to have those uncomfortable palpitation in my heart that often lead me down the wrong roads in my attempt to quash my tedious and trying dark thoughts.

My windows were up as I drove along Highway 117 playing Knockin Doors Down at full volume. No luck. The voices just screamed at each other a little louder in my head.

My body began feeling like it was being squeezed by some giant hand reaching out and wrapping its fingers around my entire body. I couldn’t breathe, and the need to escape overtook my mind after I had drove several slow miles blocked behind a couple cars. As my thoughts raced non-stop, impulse control was thrown out the window and without thought or care, I drove wildly into the center turning lane in my attempt to escape whatever it was that I was convinced was after me. Reality was gone.

After breaking free from my enclosure, I felt a brief sense of relief, but that would be short-lived. Again the story of my life... I wasn’t paying attention, but THEY were. Damn those unmarked black cop cars! He caught up with me about 3 miles later.

I quickly pulled over as a few hundred thoughts ran rapidly across my forehead. I reached out and grabbed one thought as the officer tapped on my window. I didn’t want to try and explain it to the officer that if I didn’t do what I did, the world might have exploded. Anyway that’s what my mind had convinced me was going to happen if I didn’t pass the two idiot drivers in the center lane, and then sped off at double the speed limit.

Instead, I lied and told him I was a diabetic and my blood sugar was low. It might have been, I hadn’t eaten anything that day. But I also know when I get stressed, like being stopped, my blood sugar will spike real high. So even if it was low before he stopped me, it had to be somewhere around 180 after the stop.

At least the officer was polite, even after he ran my record and let me know, as if I didn’t already know, that I have a very extensive driving record. I’ll be lucky as hell if I don’t lose my drivers license again.

FUCK! This time I got a ticket for illegal passing. The officer said he knew I was speeding but he wasn’t going to give me a ticket for that since he said he didn’t actually catch me speeding. Then came the serious question again, ‘Are you okay?’ Two days in a row, two different officers asking the same question. Again I lie. I convince myself that these feelings, mood swings, whatever you want to call it, will pass... I just have to ride out the storm. I just hope they make a towel big enough to dry myself off when its all over.

I have court on March 22 for this charge and April something for the speeding ticket I got last month....again FUCK! The two tickets total over $500 dollars, plus the time I have to spend going to these damn things because I can’t come up with that much money unless I commit a crime.

The next day, I crashed hard. I’ve been down since with no motivation to do anything. My psychological inertia is now preventing me from doing anything constructive to help me elevate my mood. I’m lost. I don’t want to move, think, write or participate in life. I haven’t done any writing in weeks. The thoughts are just blank.

DEEP Breath!

This is step one again...
I made myself move a few hours ago, then I started thinking, and now I’m writing. Maybe tomorrow I’ll participate in life.

When my life flashes before my eyes, will it be worth watching?

2010-03-06T01:16:00.001-06:00

F U C K !

I fucking hate my
borderline personality disorder!!!

Sitting In The Dark Getting Buzzed

2010-02-25T01:39:00.000-06:00

Two roads split in the woods,

I took the one less traveled by others,

Now I’m wondering where the hell am I?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I remember as a teen I once tried to explain to an officer ‘what my problem was’, but I couldn’t put into words the chaos that was driving around in circles in my mind. I’m still not sure I can explain it to people who have never experienced intrusive thoughts. It’s similar to being in a room full of people, each one with their own thoughts and ideas, right or wrong, speaking rapidly, and I have to decide which voice I obey.

My latest thoughts involved the death of many people. One by one, going door to door, leaving no one standing until the entire block is clear. I see the images, the blood, the look of shock on their faces, puzzlement, wondering why. Don’t ask me, I still don’t know why. It just has to be done.

I’m a weak person, so many times I listen to the wrong voice. Tell me what I’m living for.

When the thoughts become louder than usual, I have to get out. This is when I spend most of my time driving around in my circles, playing music loud enough to drown out all the noise in my head. People sometimes look at me crazy when I pull up next to them and my music is vibrating their car windows. But I don’t care what they think, it’s the only way to drown out all the other voices.

At least I’ve figured out an early warning signal that I get right before I’m about to experience violent intrusive thoughts. It can happen anywhere or at anytime, depending on the odors around me, but certain things that I smell impact my thought process. The stronger the odor the stronger my response. Sometimes it can be pleasant at first, like when I was shopping at Wal-Mart the other day, I walked past this average looking guy who had on some wonderful smelling cologne, which set off my intrusive thoughts. The next thing I realize, I’m stalking this guy just to smell him, and I’m dreaming about having sex with him. Then suddenly my mind shifts and I go from wanting to have sex with him, to wanting to take his life slowly. My mind then fears that I might suddenly act out some sexually inappropriate behavior right there in the middle of the floor in Wal-Mart, so I have to quickly get away from him.

Then there are the times when I smell something that isn’t pleasant, like the exhaust from my car sitting in the garage. My mind will sometimes tell me to just sit there with the engine running, without opening the garage door, and just let things happen. First though I might go out and smash my car into as many things as I can, and then come home and close the garage tightly down around me.

This is mostly why I smoke weed. It shuts up all those stupid ass voices floating around in head.
----------------------------------------------

Below is a link to a site I think I've posted before, but it explains what violent intrusive thoughts are and how treatment might work for people looking for a solution.
Violent Obsessions Killer Thoughts

Keeping me sane...

2010-02-14T01:43:00.002-06:00

My post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and anxiety is in full swing right now. But I shouldn’t bitch because I did it to myself when I got bored and began reading stories about children being abused. When I read about or see stories about child abuse or sexual abuse, my heart rate increases rapidly and nausea will follow. I then have to swiftly re-arrange my thoughts to stop myself from doing something stupid. If I can’t do it for myself, I’ll do it for them.

I thought about suicide so frequently today that it became my obsession. I repeatedly thought about all the possible ways to die, and the easiest method to achieve this goal. One of my hidden personalities who is the responsible, level headed one, stepped forth in my moment of severe distress and prevented me from taking my life. But the one that scares me the most, is the personality that shows no fear. She knows that we can’t take our own life, but she can force others to do it for her. This war is a non-stop battle in my mind, and sometimes I feel like surrendering to the wrong side. Having children is the only thing that has prevented me from crossing that line.

I’ve been trying to do the right things like exercise, eat right, get a good night’s sleep, get out in the world and be more social, stop all the negative thinking, and do more things that I enjoy. But, it’s tough to get out of bed in the morning when you feel like, ‘what’s the point’. I’m not making a difference in this world, I’m not a productive member of society, I’ve been to prison, I’ve broken many laws, etc. I could list a hundred negative things about myself. But, all they have to do is smile and I remember what I’m here for.

What I dislike most about myself is that I’m not very intelligent. Compared to some I might be, but I feel way below average. And I hate that about myself. I’m not sure who is to blame, probably me, or it could have been the fact that it was impossible to concentrate in school when I was always thinking about what was going to secretly take place at home later. Maybe I can place the blame on the hours of lost sleep due to the unbearably cold room that I slept in while growing up, or the hole in the roof near the foot of my bed that leaked large buckets of water every time it rained, or maybe it was because I always feared that one day my father would snap and kill everyone in the house. FUCK! Maybe it was because I was thinking about my brothers being in the hospital after they were shot. I didn’t have fucking time or room in my head to think about what was being taught. If I did think about school work, I did only long enough to memorize what was on the test, pass it, and then I would forget. They will never have to deal with this kind of stress.

I wanted so much to go to college after high school, but there was no way for me to achieve that goal. Once I let go of that dream, all hope was lost and arrest, jail, prison, mental hospitals, drug rehabs, all soon followed. By the time I finally got my life in some sort of order and was ready to commit to going back to school, I got pregnant. All plans to further my education again came to a halt. For the past 20 years I have focused on making sure my boys have all the opportunities to better their lives in a way that I never had. I’m sure I still have a few more years to go, but what will I do when they are not there to keep me sane?

Decompensation and Mental Illness

2010-02-09T13:36:00.000-06:00

I didn’t get but a couple of hours of interrupted sleep last night. My thoughts just wouldn’t lay down and relax with the rest of my body. I hate days like this.

My thoughts are drifting towards wanting to cut just for the soul purpose of achieving a forced chemical reaction in my brain. But I can’t because I have to go to court in a few hours for the dog ticket. ... You could just wear long sleeves. Nobody would notice since it‘s wintertime. ... SHUT UP! I don’t want another scar. FUCK! I’m past forty years old, I’m not some young stressed out teen that doesn’t know a thing about life.

I attempted to send my focus elsewhere early this morning by checking out some of the links that people come from when they visit my site. One person linked back to my site quoting parts of my very first post....

“Antisocial personality with intermittent psychotic decompensation.”

They then wrote the following on their site...

“Decompensation or episodes of deterioration are quite common with mental illness. Decompensation means that when a person is stressed out, they withdraw from the situation. Decompensation and mental illness go hand in hand. In decompensation, the person loses control even when they are trying to be on their best behavior. The signs and symptoms of mental illness then keep them from working and they end up having repeated episodes. They show less fear of punishment, and seem to need to do things that excite their nervous system, such as thrill-seeking behaviors.”

Guess whoever this person is, they are using me as an example. It does describe me well, but I won’t follow their suggestion.... Medication and therapy. I refused to take anti-psychotic pills and I don’t have the money for therapy. Besides this is my therapy. It’s worked so far. I’ve been on here for a little over 4 years now and I haven’t killed anyone or myself. I still think about doing so quite frequently, but as long as I continue to seek out other alternatives that excite my nervous system, no one’s life will end today by my hands. Unless of course some jackass at court pushes my wrong damn button.

Winter Pics

2010-02-08T15:42:00.000-06:00

Pain is Inevitable; Suffering is Optional

2010-02-07T22:35:00.000-06:00

There are moments when my mind misses a few beats, and days pass without remembering the events. I find myself in mid-step or mid-breath, feeling as if being delivered abruptly into my body after a long absence. Spent where, I couldn’t really say, it’s sorta like being in a long, dreamless sleep. I had one of those days today. Bad weather or not, I forced myself out into the world for a walk to restore my self and maybe find a little .... something.... I just don’t know what it is yet.

Let’s free the mind with a little nonsense writing, even if it will only make sense to some.

My Crazy Day

This morning when I first stumbled out of bed, I stubbed my big toe on the edge of the bed, which sent waves of unpleasant sensations throughout my already aching body. Blood immediately pooled under the nail, and then oozed out the corners onto the carpet. It was only a small dose of what my day would entail.

I sat in my dark bedroom, drinking my morning obese cup of French vanilla coffee, listening to Headline Morning News as I nursed my aching big toe, when the power suddenly went out. It was another random blackout that had been occurring daily for the past couple weeks. I cursed loudly as I blindly finished wrapping a large Band-Aid over the top of my toe, and then I carefully slip on my shoes. As I stood to feel myself along, the sound of the TV return and I could feel the fan blowing again, but I could see anything. The power was all back on, but I was partly blind, able to only see outlines of harsh images.

I experienced this moment of raw terror, and I felt around for the phone. I was feeling an overwhelming need to call work and let them know I would be late. Only, I couldn't remember the number. And, even if I could, I didn’t think I could remember the layout of the numbers on the keypad.

Fear of losing my job overtook my mind, because we all know what happens to people who lose their jobs, so I didn't hesitate. Fortunately, my purse and keys were near the front door, so I able to easily locate them. I then stumbled out my apartment door. I felt along the railing until I came to the stairwell and eased myself down along each step.

I was down about 8 steps when suddenly this thing slammed me up against the wall and licks me across the face. I open my mouth wide as I let out a loud ear piercing scream, and it jams its tongue right into my mouth. Gagging for air, I bite fiercely down on the tongue and feel metal with my teeth. My thoughts run to whatever this is, it was into body piercing.

I fight hard to free myself from this things painful clutches. The pain was mixing with the throbbing of my big toe, making my head spin. It’s nails penetrated my flesh as it held me firmly in place. It reeked of rotting meat, making me feel ill. Then, abruptly it jammed it’s tongue into my right ear and held me firmly in place. I could hear a weird noise in my right ear as if someone was playing a tiny drum set in a sewer pipe. Next, I heard what sounded like someone shooting a gun nearby, and the thing let me go.

I stood back and shook my head, and that was when my eyesight returned. I looked around and saw no one or anything, and decided to go onto work. I made it in the front door just in time to see the boss standing near the time clock. I casually stroll his direction, and he eyeballs me in a strange way. I freeze, expecting him to say something, but he makes a grunting sound and walks back to his office.

I clock in and then go to my cubicle and sit down in the overly stuffed office chair. It feels foreign, or unreal like. I look around and notice I don’t recognize anything or anybody. I can’t shake the feeling and quickly make a beeline to the bathroom. I see myself in the mirror and I look horrible. The front of my white blouse was spotted with blood as if I had fallen on a bed of needles. A gel like substance oozed from my right ear, dead leaves were stuck to my shirt, and other various small pieces of debris was stuff into my hair.

I cleaned myself the best I could, and then returned to my corner. I couldn’t believe the boss didn’t say anything. I work my way through lunch without a break, and then stayed a little past five until everyone had left for the day. By the time I was ready to go home, my right ear finally stopped hurting, and the gel substance stopped flowing from inside.

So, as you see it’s been a fairly normal day, apart from the vomiting fit which kicked in just after I got home. I spent half an hour vomiting up blood, and once again, there were those little white spiders mixed in that run around in circles shouting the words crazy. The right side of my face is now numb, and I can still feel a couple of the critters crawling around somewhere behind my eyes. I think they are painting something hateful. It's really annoying as hell,and it's driving me crazy.

Except that I won't go crazy. That's one thing that's become plain. Nobody goes crazy. They just are or aren’t. Stone cold sanity. That's what we endure.

In Need of a Distraction

2010-02-02T15:32:00.002-06:00

All my life I’ve had to deal with depression or some other disorder of the mind. I’ll be the first to admit there are days when I feel like death would be a better option. Then there are the days when everything is beautiful and I just have to giggle at the world we live in. Those are the days that I reach out for, grab onto and put in my pocket for later.

When my mind set turns dark, and I just can’t seem to force myself out into the sunlight, I look for other distractions such as cleaning long ago forgotten corners of my house. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve lived in one house for any extended amount of time, you never know what you might find in your quest to clean out clutter. Such as a missing sock that you were sure the washer or dryer ate or carried away to another land never to be seen again.

Over the years I’ve discovered when I have my first thought of suicide, that very first moment of thought when my world feels dark, if I will instead seek out some sort of distraction, a little sunlight can shine through the tiny holes in the foil that covers my windows.

I believe each person has their own reason to feel like giving up on some days, and each person has to discover their own distraction that works for them. If you’ve read much of my blog you will see where I have tried numerous options. Some traditional, like going for a walk, while others options that I have chosen over the years maybe be extreme for most., such as my ‘stalking’ of police. The point is you have to find what works for you. Even if it is as simple as taking a walk, going to see a movie, reading a book, re-arranging a room for just the right look, cleaning, or relieving your mind through writing. Find what works for you, but don’t stop trying.

A really good one is meeting new people and finding out what’s going on in their lives. This sometimes helps me see my own life a little clearer. My problem is sometimes my disorders kick in and I can’t force myself outside to meet the sunlight, let alone another human being. On these days, I turn to my computer. I secretly read about what others have wondering around in their minds, but if I’m feeling really bold, I sign up at some site or forum and be someone I’m not. Someone I would maybe like to be. No one but me has to know the truth. One day maybe I’ll return to these sites as the real me and thank them for keeping me distracted enough to live my life one more day.

Recently I came across a really great site. There are a bunch of great normal guys that hang out there and talk about coin collecting and whatever else their mind concocts. It’s a wonderful place for a good giggle or two, and you might find this distraction to be just what your mind needed. If you ever feel the need to hide out somewhere and make a few new online friends go visit:

Open Forum Refuge

Tell them MsPsycho said hello. You never know, I might be hanging out there myself.

Son-of-Bitch! I Got a Speeding Ticket

2010-01-23T00:34:00.000-06:00

Son-of-bitch! I got a damn speeding ticket for doing 50mph in a 25mph zone while driving past the police department. I was on my way to the school to pay money on my son’s lunch account on Thursday, when suddenly the extreme urge to relieve the 4 cups of coffee and 2 diet cokes I had consumed since 9am that morning washed over my body. It brought out the little nine year old girl in me that stands there jumping up and down holding her hands between her legs trying to prevent herself from peeing everywhere.

I pushed the gas pedal down a little faster, and at some point I’m not really watching my speed any longer. My brain is repeating the words, ‘you need to pee‘, ’you need to pee’, then my mind flashes again on a little girl bouncing up and down, squeezing her legs together. I turn the corner with a half pause and roll on quickly past the school.

I look up and notice lights in my rearview mirror. My mind runs full throttle trying to figure out where the hell he came from. The need to urinate was ruling my thoughts enough that I guess I just didn’t look in my rearview mirror. My reaction was to quickly pull over, because at first I thought the officer was on a call and I just needed to move out of his way so I could circle back around to my house. Wrong!

He whips in behind me, and my heart races when I realize he is stopping me. For what I didn’t quite know yet, but I knew it was going to be for something that was later going to cost me a lot of money and time. He told me I was doing 55mph in a 25mph zone. Wow! Really wasn’t paying much attention. Then he ask if there was a reason I was going so fast. I didn’t lie. I told him I had to pee really bad, and then I began bouncing up and down again like that nine year old girl.

I don’t know the officers name, but at least he was pleasant and wrote me out the ticket quickly. Maybe it’s because they all know I’m a teeny bit psycho, and they would rather not stir up any problems. Who knows... When I think about it now, all I can see is that hidden grin they all have when I look them in the face. Maybe its the sex stories....hehe.

Anyway, now I have to figure out how to come up with the money to pay this damn ticket and the dog ticket. Looks like I’ll be doing a lot of dick sucking for awhile, or else I’ll have to call thief out of hiding and let her take control for a brief period of time. Shit!

I'm Going to Commit Murder!

2010-01-20T03:24:00.001-06:00

All my life I’ve had a dog of some sort. Most all of them have been mixed breed dogs that someone was wanting to give away, and me being the nice person that I am, I gladly take the dog into my home. I provided everything I possible could to make their lives, and mine, enjoyable. I also like having a pet around for protection and entertainment.

After my boys reached a certain age they of course wanted a dog, and again I gladly gave into their adorable little 5 year old smiles. But then something would happen, like the dog running away, it gets hit by a car, or someone steals it, etc...Then there have been a few dogs that have crossed my path, that have caused a part of me to loathe dogs on the most extreme level. That is where MsPsycho took over and did what had to be done.

Okay, so let me step aside, and I’ll let MsPsycho’s invade your world for a few minutes. Warning MsPsycho tends to use profanities quite frequently, so if you are offended by someone using vulgar language, I suggest you read no further.

I can’t fucking stand dogs! And I’m going to tell you why! First of all, they stink! No matter how often, or what type of dog shampoo you use, in the end they all still smell like something crawled onto their bodies and died. Next, dog hair everywhere! It’s on my floors, carpet, rubbed against the side of my sofa (since I don’t fucking allow them on the couch), all over the bathroom where they’ve been giving a bath, and sometimes I even find the shit on my kitchen countertops! Guess who has to clean all this shit up! ME! It doesn’t just magically disappear on its own!

Allergies! I hate sneezing all the liquid out my nose after they’ve been in the house rolling around on my carpet. Then I can’t breathe right until I’ve taken some type of pill that is more than likely going to leave me feeling ‘not quite right’ for the next few hours.

So, you say just leave them outside... Right? Wrong! Outside all they do is bark when the wind blows a little too hard! Then they start digging at the ground and the fence trying to get at whatever they are barking at. Eventually they make it out on a day when nobody is at home, and I get a fine for DOG BEING AT LARGE. There goes a fucking $100 dollars and time spent in court!

After their little escape to freedom, I get both Labs back inside my privacy fence, and almost pass out from the horrendous smell that is now on my hands from touching them. I know they’ve been doing that upside down back rub across some animal that has been laying dead in the street for days. Maybe that makes them feel special when they do that? Fucking stinks to me bitch!

I give them food and water, and then proceed for the billionth time to replace the broken boards to the back fence. There goes money for food, new boards and nails for the fence, dog shampoo for the bath, water to wash them both, carpet cleaner and carpet shampoo to get rid of the smell they brought back with them that lingers like a huge TURD that just won’t flush. And I still have to pay the fucking court ticket!

Oh, and don’t forget about all the time this is consuming!

Since I have a male and female, I have had to deal with puppies. Which is fun to a certain point, but even that becomes a pain in the ass when the puppies reach a certain age and you have to find homes for all of them. To make sure this doesn’t happen again, I have to come up with money to have my dog spayed. She comes in heat two days before the surgery, and I have to make sure - Mr my dick is so hard that I’m going to fucking die if I don’t get to fuck that female bitch,- my male dog doesn’t get her pregnant before I have a chance to get her fixed.

TWO days of him howling to get inside. I throw water on his face, smack him with a broom handle, threaten him with my voice, etc.. NOTHING WORKS! I’m thinking about a shock collar, but is that too cruel? At this point, I don’t give a damn.

Finally the day of surgery. After only a couple hours of sleep, I get up at 5:30am, get dressed, load the dog into my car, and drive to a clinic on the other side of Tulsa to drop her off at 7am. I’m told it won’t be until around 4 or 5pm before she will be ready to go home, so I spend the day out picking up a few Christmas leftovers in Sand Springs. (I don’t live in Sand Springs, but I love stalking a few people over there.)

Around 2pm, I return to the house. I go into psycho mode the moment I walk in the door and see what my male lab has done to my backdoor. He has spent the entire day chewing and gnawing at the solid wood door until he had managed to make a hole large enough for him to squeeze his 90+ pound body under the door. When he sees me, he knows he’s in trouble, and immediately goes to his doghouse and lays down inside with only a part of his face sticking out to look around.

The temperature that day was below freezing, and inside my house the heater was blowing full blast, but it had little effect on the temperature of the room. I left my jacket on and found what I could to block the cold air from turning my fingertips blue. I made a quick dash to the lumber store and brought a large piece of metal to cover the opening, and then went to pick up my female lab who had come through surgery okay.

After making the needed repairs that evening, I laid down for some much need rest, leaving my male dog outside and the female inside for one week. Since she is still in heat, I have to keep the two dogs separated so he doesn’t cause her serious injury after the surgery. The next morning I was awaken by the sound of my female lab barking loudly in the other room. I jump up quickly thinking she may need to use the bathroom, and walk into the front room. There stands my male dog! He has cuts all over his face and paws where he dug, bit, pawed at the metal on the door until he was able to rip it open. Just to get to the PUSSY!

Another trip to Sutherlands! This time for more metal, new boards, screws, etc.. To complete the job. It was that, or spend a hundred dollars for a brand new door, and hope like hell I could put it up by myself. God only fucking knows, NOBODY else but me, is going to fucking fix the goddamn thing!

I chain my male lab up outside near his doghouse, and have to listen to him howl like someone is beating him with a hammer for the next five days! I want to end this dogs life! I have had NO restful sleep! Sleep a minute, listen to him howl, yell at him to shut up and go lay down. Sleep for two minutes, howling begins again. Let him howl until I’m sure the neighbors will soon be complaining. Fuck them! I’m complaining! I get up and toss a glass of water in his face and tell him again to be quiet. Nothing works!

I’m so exhausted I’m beginning to have some more than usually fucked up thoughts tossing around in my brain. If I don’t get some god damn sleep soon, I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold back my impulses. FIVE DAYS of this bullshit! I want to end this mother fuckers life with my bare hands.

And I would if it were up to me, but the owner of this body might really be upset if I were to do something psycho that caused her to do jail time. So, for now I will retreat back behind the black curtains until I’m needed again.

HOW FAR WILL SHE GO?

2010-01-19T01:23:00.000-06:00

Tayla ties the laces on her running shoes, and then jumps to her feet with a quick bounce. She has been training for months, getting into the best shape of her life, because she knows all eyes will be on her. She stares at her own reflection in the full length mirror and has doubts, but only briefly. Her glaring stare pushes her into side leg stretches, holding each one to the point of feeling pain. She then bounces up and down, stretching her shapely calf muscles as she pushes against the wall. She continues her routine by stretching her arms above her head, and rotating her neck until the bones inside sound off with a low crackle.

Standing in her loose fitting white tee-shirt and sweatpants, in the middle of the room she does several jumping jacks in a row until a bead of sweat forms on her forehead. She doesn’t want to her make-up to sweat off so she chooses not to exert herself any further. The urge to show off evaporates, and Tayla forms a plan in her head.

She looks again into the mirror and daps the sweat away with a white kitchen hand towel. She re-powders her face and applies a new layer of lipstick as she checks her hair. Suddenly, her lavender crisp lips spew out the most vulgar words, “Asshole! Bastard! Cocksucker! Pig! Fuck you! Die you son-of-bitch!”

The more words she shouts out loud, the more pumped up she becomes, until she is shouting so loud her voice begins to crack. She is ready. A long ago forgotten song plays in the background, matching her confident stride as she heads out the front door of her small apartment building.

The sunlight shines brightly in the mid-day afternoon, but a light breeze keeps it from being overly warm. In the background the music grows louder. Tayla’s old warn out green 1990 Bonneville sits near the curb with a parking ticket tucked under the windshield wiper. The playing music comes to a screeching halt.

She grabs the ticket and sits down in the drivers seat. She leans over and opens the glove box to shove the ticket inside with all the others. The music begins playing again with a loud pumping bass. She drives just a few blocks and pulls over in front of several businesses when she spots a tall, thin dark haired police officer filling out a parking ticket for some other helpless victim.

Tayla steps out the old car, shoving the door hard so that it shut correctly, and struts towards the officer.

The tall, dark haired officer slaps the ticket under the strangers windshield, letting it snap loudly back in place. The music fades to a low hum.

With a big smile on her face, Tayla extends her index finger and pokes the officer in the middle of his back, causing him to quickly turn around.

“Fucking bastard!” Tayla shouts looking him squarely in the face.

The officers eyes open wide as he turns to look at the tall blond, blue eyed woman. His eyebrows lower, “What did you say?”

“Cocksucker!” Tayla shouts loudly, and then smacks the officer across his left cheek. She smiles widely and then turns to flee as the officer steps toward her. She quickly picks up her running pace as the dark haired officer follows close behind her talking on his radio.

Just a block away, Tayla running full speed, spots an husky, six foot officer talking to two people who are having a domestic dispute. She increases her speed, taking long steady strides and runs straight for the husky officer. Without losing a step she smacks the officer on the back of his head, and runs off with her middle finger sticking up in the air. Victorious music playfully rings out in the background.

“Shit!” the officer yells as he checks the back of his head.

“Fucking pigs!” Tayla shouts and bolts off in the other direction.

The dark haired officer comes sprinting around the corner past the tall, husky officer. The husky officer then joins the pursuit, and they both break into a fast paced leg race trying to catch the fleeing woman. She turns several corners with the officers just a few seconds behind her.

At the end of the block, Tayla sees the coffee shop that she had visited the day before when she was preparing for her run. Outside on the patio, sits two off-duty officers having donuts and a hot cup of coffee. Tayla sprints towards the officers and swipes one of the officers donuts and takes a bite. As she continues to run, she throws the rest of the donuts over her shoulder towards the officers, making them dunk as it comes flying in their direction.

“Cocksuckers!” she shouts triumphantly through her donut filled mouth.

The two officers swiftly stand, knocking over their chairs as they promptly join in on the pursuit. Fast paced music rings loudly.

With all four officers pursuing her, she runs faster than she ever has in her life. Around one corner and then another. She darts around cars and other buildings, until she runs into a unfamiliar area and instantly realizes she has made a wrong turn from the path she had chosen the day before.

She attempts to backpedal, but it only leads her straight back into the awaiting arms of the law.

They grab her by the hair and throw her to the ground as they shout obscenities at her. Each officers then kicks and stomps at her helpless body laying on the ground. Tayla covers her head as she continues to shout degrading names at each of the officers.

“Ass munchers! Pigs! Bastards! Cock suckers!”

The sound of Tayla’s voice is drown out by approaching sirens. She hears the screeching becoming louder, and then the sound of a vehicle hurriedly coming to a halt. The four officers stop their assault and step aside as a older, higher ranking officer leaps from his patrol car.

He leans downs and sees blood dripping from Tayla’s face and forehead. He radios for an ambulance when she lets out a low moan. The officer leans towards her and touches Tayla in a reassuring manner, “Don’t try to move or talk. Help is on the way. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Tayla uncovers her face and stares the officer in the eyes. Then she manages to get out the words, “Fuck you pig.”

The high ranking officer appears stunned.

From out of a white van, jumps a young, handsome man with a microphone in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we have another winner!’ the man bellows.

“Tayla you’ve just won a brand new car and ten thousand dollars cash!”

Music swells in the background as a shiny new car appears along with a woman holding open a briefcase full of cash.

Paramedics arrive and place Tayla onto a stretcher. Bright lights from a camera douses her sweat filled face and torn shirt. She looks toward the camera and gives a thumbs up to the viewers at home, “I’m okay everybody.”

The title of the show flashes across the TV screen: WHAT ARE THEY WILLING TO DO?

The program credits roll as the music plays in the background.

“Tune in next week when Joey White goes for his dream home!” The host flashes a big smile and gives a low laugh, “Hey, America, is there a doctor in the house?”

After 8 hours of watching TV, Sandy picks up the remote and turns the channel.

-------------------

Well, that's it. Not sure if I like the title, so if you have a better idea, let me know. Have a great day!

Wintertime Blues or is it a little Major Depression Kicking in?

2010-01-11T02:03:00.001-06:00

I would give anything right now for a tiny bit of mania. I’ve got brain fog going on, and all I want to do is sleep and eat. For the past few days all I've done is hibernate like a bear in the winter. It’s too cold to go outside and do anything, and everything inside makes me feel sick to my stomach, so I’ve just been sitting around or laying around doing nothing.

I’ve been trying to do some of the things that shock my brain enough to bring me back to reality, but those are failing, and this time I feel like saying fuck it... I don’t really give a damn.

They say women are effected more by the wintertime blues than men, because basically woman start off in life with less serotonin in our brains than men, so wintertime can be very rough on people like me. Gee thanks... one more disorder I have to deal with.

I forced myself up out of bed around 1pm today, (woke up at 10am, just didn’t want to get up) and tried to do a little exercising like they suggest when a woman feels this way, but that did nothing but make my head hurt more than it already was. Instead I got online and surfed around to a few different blogs, which is sometimes a good distraction at least, but not today.

I spent several hours reading other peoples blogs, and even more hours just sitting there playing Bejeweled Blitz. It kept me distracted for a few hours, but tomorrow I have to try something different. I’m going to try and get outside in the sun, even if it is only for a few minutes. If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what extremes I’ll be willing to try.

I know I won’t use any antidepressant or antipsychotic medications. I’ve tried a variety of drugs in the past, and each one failed in it’s own way. I just have to use what I’ve learned in the past to make sure I don’t do something really stupid tomorrow.

My court really sucked Thursday. Once again the court room was standing room only, even though I got there almost an hour before court started. I spent most of the first 2 hours reading a book and trying not to look around at anyone. Finally around 6:30pm, after the attorneys finished, the DA tells everyone to line up against the wall that wants to talk with him. FUCK! A line forms going out into the hall. Separately the Judge announces if anyone wants to plead not guilty, to step forward and the court date would be set for February. I was going to wait and talk with the DA, but changed my mind and quickly stepped forward. I gave my name and was told to return in February. I quickly left the courtroom, leaving everyone else standing there for the next couple of hours. Maybe I’ll come up with a good excuse and postpone my court date until March sometime. Maybe then it’ll be warm and I won’t feel the need to cuss someone out.

It’s so cold out, the hookers are charging $25 dollars to blow on your hands

2010-01-06T22:02:00.000-06:00

Don’t knock the weather. If it didn’t change once in a while, nine out of ten people couldn’t start a conversation.

It looks like the forecast for my area is going to be a cold one for the next couple of days. We’re suppose to get close to the record in 1912 of -2 F. Damn that’s cold. The crazy part is just 2 years ago, in 2008, the temperature was around 75 degrees on this same day. Now that was nice!

A little light drizzling mist is falling right now, which is just the beginning of what is to come. I did the stupid thing like a lot of other people did, and waited until the last minute to stock up on enough supplies to stay indoors for the next couple of days. An one hour trip turned into two hours with the crazy traffic running through Tulsa and the insane amount of people that were in the stores stocking up.

Just as I turned onto 141st street a light mist met my windshield. A couple minutes later, with a smile on my face I pulled into my garage, thankful I had made it safely home before the snow and cold temperatures hit.

I hate going out in the cold now days, mostly because it makes my old bones hurt, especially in my knees. I also don’t relish the thought of maybe slipping and falling on my ass, or laying there like the old woman on TV screaming, ‘I’ve falling and can’t get up.’

I was hoping I could stay hidden for the next few days while the weather is bad, but unless I can come up with a good reason not to appear, I have to be in court tomorrow evening. Back in September my female lab escaped through a hole in my neighbors fence while I was gone. The way I understand, the dog catcher tried to catch her and she ran back into my yard. He then tried to get her out of my backyard, but my neighbor came over and said he would take care of the fence.

When I got home that day, there was a warning on my door, and my neighbor comes over to explain what happened. I thought that was the end of it, and my dog hasn’t gotten out since the fence was fixed. But I was wrong! TWO months later, I get a letter in the mail that I have to sign for. I open it and inside I find a ticket for my dog at large with the court date that has already passed. I get really pissed knowing my dog hasn’t been out, and that they are sending me a ticket with the court date wrong.

Eventually I get a hold of someone at the court clerks office and find out they forgot to include a letter telling me the court date had been changed. I was still pissed about the ticket, and began looking at it closer and realized it was for when she had escaped in September. I still don’t understand why he gave me a warning, and then two months later decides to send me a ticket in the mail. BET he likes fucking chickens. Psycho thoughts.... Walk away!!!!!

That’s as normal as my post is going to get today. I still feel the need to write about my last little drinking episode... But I’ll do that a little later. That’s twice this year I’ve been drunk...damn! This last time I didn’t get bombed, I got crushed into a thousand pieces. No more drinking for me, I would rather return to weed.

Hope everyone stays safe and warm.

Bring in the New Year Drunk.... Damn!

2009-12-31T23:49:00.000-06:00

Well, it looks like I'll be bringing in this new year drunk. I haven't done that in quite some time. Anyway not this drunk. At least I'm at home, so the worst that can happen is I puke on the keyboard. yuck! ... tasted a little party throwing up in my mouth when I thought about that. Puke is such a nasty thing.

Hope everyone has a happy and safe new year!

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and in the new year find you have become a better person.

Worst Christmas Ever?

2009-12-23T01:37:00.002-06:00

For the past thirty minutes I’ve been reading about some of the odd, horrible, what were they thinking kind of gifts that people receive at Christmas time. Though I did read a few really bad stories, like the guy who gave his wife 5 quarts of motor oil and an oil filter so she could change the oil on her car, I think some of my previous gifts have been a little worse. Still, there were several funny ones, like the lady who received the turbo tax program from her husband, so she could file their tax return. There was also the young couple who recently moved into a new house, and received wrapped toilet paper, paper towels, and bottles of cleaning supplies as a gift because the Aunt thought they could use the stuff for their new place. The funniest, and yet sad, was a lady who received a giant bag of used left over bath products.

I’ve been known to give previous owned presents, like the year I gave a friend a rose candle that I had sitting around my house for a couple years and never used. Problems was I had forgotten at the time that she had given me the candle a few years earlier. Ooopps. I will also give gifts that I have picked up at a discount, or second hand resale shop, and even items from garages sales, if they are what I consider nice. It’s not that I’m cheap, but when you have a large family, it starts quickly adding up to a lot of money.

I think I do a better job than some of my family. They are horrible giftters, but I take the gift with a smile and a big thank you regardless. I just still haven’t decided what to do with the 100 plus small packages of condiments, from various drive-thru restaurants, that I received from one member of my family last year. If you’re not working I understand, but don’t decided to horde condiment packages to give as a gift, just go ahead and keep those for yourself.

One of my other gifts last year include a really ugly sleigh with a woman driving. It was filled with peppermint candy, which was a nice thought, if it hadn’t been chewed on by a mouse. On top you could clearly see where a mouse had sat and chewed on several pieces of the candy. When I pointed out that she must have a mouse, she looked at me and seriously said, “It’ll be okay. Just take the candy on top off, the rest is still good.” The whole thing was placed securely into the trash the second I got home.

Previous years weren’t much better, so when we got together at Thanksgiving, I convinced everyone to make up just one basket of items, priced from 10 to 20 dollars. Then when we get together on Christmas eve, we would draw a number, or whatever, and that would be the basket you received. My odds of receiving a nice gift this year feel a little better. At least I won’t be carrying home 20 pounds of previously frozen deer meat that needs to be cooked up quickly so it doesn’t go to waste...the day before Christmas.

The dreadful day draws near... Lol. I’m just waiting to hear about all the latest drama. My sister-in-law called me earlier tonight and briefed me on a few details of the next Jerry Springer show...lol. Actually I think the craziness that goes on out there, might be a little to far out even for Jerry.

Brief run down. My half-sister J, who is really by blood my cousin, is living with a guy named C. C used to be married to my younger sister S, and had a boy J and a girl C. Now J, my nephew, calls my half-sister J, Auntiemom.

After my younger sister S broke up with C for sleeping with J, she married another guy that was almost 25 years older than her and who had 6 other kids. They all moved in together, but he was a alcoholic with a former war history, which exposed my niece and nephew to some crazy months. She divorced him and married another guy, and divorced him within a year. My niece C, freaked out about the whole thing and started cutting herself to relive the stress. She then quit school at 14 years old, and started smoking. My nephew J also dropped out of school at age 13, and began drinking and smoking.

Four years have now passed and my younger sister S is now living with a guy T who is half her age. He has two children, 7 and 9 years old. And together S and T had 2 boys, one now 2 ½ and the other is 1½ years old. The new guy T doesn’t work, and neither does my sister, so the fighting is ‘normal’. The relationship has to fail soon.

Now in the other corner, we have my sister-in-law A that called today. She recently lost custody of her daughter to another family member who felt A wasn’t taking care of her daughter in the way she thought it should be done. Mostly it was because A doesn’t work, and she is married to my brother F, who doesn’t work either, so they are living in my brothers old burnt out trailer house that sits on the property next to my sisters house. That’s just not a safe environment to raise a child.

Recently the two parties came in contact with each other and a fight quickly ensued to who was the worst parent. A gets pissed off enough that she goes back to her tailor house and grabs a gun. She threatens to shoot S and proceeds to shoot the tires on her truck.

My family lives way out in the country, so there isn’t anyone else around her several miles, but the echoing sound of the gun firing bought everyone out of the house. My brother F sees what A is doing and runs after her, tackling her to the ground and begins fighting her for the weapon. Eventually he takes the gun away from her and they all go back inside. They should be thankful they live where they do, because if they were around here, someone would have went to jail.

That’s where my half-sister J comes back into the picture. J used to be in law enforcement, but couldn’t handle the ‘bullshit’, as she has said many times. The next day, she threatens to have A arrested, and says she knows people. C then jumps into the picture and tells, J she needs to mind her own business. To which S then tells C he needs to mind his own business. Fighting then starts between C and T. Everyone threatens to kill one another and bury the body out back where no one would find them. Things finally calm down when my two young nephews start crying.

Well, that’s the run down on my family until Christmas eve. I just hope someone doesn’t decide to go on a killing spree while I’m out there and make this year the worst Christmas ever.

Hope you have a wonderful Christmas! Stay Safe! Stay Warm!

Running Through Life Sideways

2009-12-17T01:05:00.000-06:00

Well...the ride is slowing down...just as long as it doesn't come to a complete stop.. I'll be alright.

Playing Tag with Satan

2009-12-09T12:15:00.003-06:00

Today I fucking love being bi-polar!

All the flowers are gone, so I won't be going out at 3am to pick some strangers flowers, it's too damn cold outside. I'm going to stay in my house and drive myself nuts obsessing over making sure everything is just right for Christmas... Thank you Santa for giving me what I ask for.

Let's put some music on and get some shit done!
Give a new meaning to ho ho ho!
List me as naughty twice.

Final Ending

2009-12-06T02:01:00.005-06:00

She sat alone in front of the computer, trying to talk herself out of the latest thoughts that were consuming her mind. But she realized there was no hope. No matter where else she tried to take her mind, it ultimately led her back to the only option she felt remained. She would have to die for what she did.

She silently scanned through all the family photos, stopping occasionally to recall fond memories of past Christmas get-togethers. Tears rolled down her pale face as she revisited her favorite photos from the past 20 years. To calm herself, she reached for the bottle of Tequila and poured the last shot into her glass. With one swift motion, she threw the liquid down the back of her throat and swallowed the last of the intoxicating brew.

She wiped away one last tear as she stood up to throw the bottle away. Immediately she felt the effects of the alcohol as dizziness overtook her mind. She tried to shake off the feeling, but she knew death was lurking around, waiting to lead her off into the afterworld where she would finally find peace. In the back of her mind a tiny little voice began talking in rhyme.

No one will see
When the last breath leaves me.

She stood silently listening to the voice, swaying back and forth on unsteady legs. It was almost midnight, and she had already cleaned everything, put things into their proper place; it was now just a waiting game. On the computer she had already written her last words.

To Whom Every Reads This

I won’t be alive when you read this because I’ve set this blog to not post until 2am, and by that time my life will be over. I just wanted to post this so I could say goodbye to everyone, and to tell a few last secrets before I go.

First of all I must confess that my father’s death was not due to a medical condition. I tainted his medication in a way that it caused his death. I’m fairly sure I got away with doing what I did, but there are still days when I feel like I’m still running away from what did so many years ago.

Committing murder is scary even after years have passed, you always wonder if the police are going to discover the real truth. Still, I know I did the right thing. He deserved what he got. He was not a good man, and he couldn’t be allowed to continue doing to others, what he had done to me.

To Trooper Mike
You finished smashing any remaining hope I had. You took that last spark I had, and once that was gone, there was no more fire inside me. I felt dead. If I could go back in time, I would burn your flesh until it turned to ash. Instead, I turned the anger inward on myself, inflicting open wounds on my body. I can’t do this any more.

Now, this must end,
There are no more undamaged areas on my skin.

I can no longer take what all this, and more, has done to my mind. I’m tried of trying to make the voices in my head stop arguing. I just want quiet. People say I’ll go to hell for what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do, but I believe I’ve already been living there for years.

To Law Enforcement
First, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’m about to cause you, but it couldn’t be helped. What I did had to be done. I won’t go into the long explanations of why I did what I did, but just to say I had my reasons. Next, in the backyard there are several graves with bodies of those around me that I killed. I buried my family and those damn fucking dogs that they loved so much. I also killed my neighbor and her dog, mostly because they just got on my nerves. After that you need to go to my sisters, brothers, and my mom’s house. I didn’t bury their bodies, so you might want to get to them before they start making a bad smell.

There’s no one left to grieve over my death, I didn’t want anyone to worry about feeling like they were being left behind. I killed anyone who might have cared.

At 1am tonight, I shall die like all the others. Maybe we will reunited in the afterlife and discuss the option I took. See you all in hell.

Goodbye

She looked at the last few words, “See you all in hell.” Anger consumed her body, and out of frustration, she began repeatedly hitting the wall. She began screaming and picked up the empty bottle of Tequila and threw it against the wall. Pieces of glass shattered everywhere, some bounced back and cut her face and hands. More landed at her bare feet, and when she stepped forward, shards of glass penetrated the soft flesh of her foot.

She picked up another half empty bottle of liquor and began pouring the liquid down her throat. It burned like gasoline going down her windpipe, but she didn’t stop until the bottle was empty. She stumbled as she threw it against the wall, shattering it into a hundred pieces.

The voices returned and began shouting that it was time to leave. She slowly made her way to the front door and unlocked it, so that it would be easier for law enforcement or medical personal to get inside, then she drunkenly staggered back in front of her computer.

The time was 12:34, leaving her less than thirty minutes before the time she had chosen for her death. She smiled as she looked around the room. It was spotless, other than the trail of bloody footprints and broken glass. One of her many voices wanted to clean the mess up right way, but there was no time left.

She picked up a lighter and lit a candle, then a joint. As the smoked rolled passed her nose, she watched the flickering flame of the candle dance in the darkened room. The alcohol, the full bottle of pain medication, and now the joint, sent her mind into another place, and she just laughed at the thought of finally having power over those who have only cause her pain throughout her life.

This was it. She put on her favorite late night slow music, and waited for the darkness to surround her body and take her to another world. As the police drove past her window one last time, she smiled and closed her eyes knowing she would no longer have to deal with psycho thoughts.

December 21, 2012

Psycho Thoughts

2009-11-19T01:19:00.004-06:00

Am I wrong for thinking about wanting to kill with my bare hands? Or enjoying the sensation of squeezing the life from what disgust me the most?

I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now, but I never wanted to say anything mostly because it involves a good friend. Several years ago this person gave my son a puppy, and I agreed to let him keep it, even though inside one of my many voices loath dogs. Over time I was able to build a privacy fence and put him in the backyard so he could run freely, and stay out from under my feet.

My son thought our dog was lonely being outside all day, so about a year later, we got another dog. This time a female. Within a year, I had puppies to deal with. My good friend/neighbor fell in love with one of the puppies and took a beautiful brown female to her house next door.

A couple years passed, and my dogs do what most outside dogs do... They try to escape. I began a daily ritual of inspecting the fence for new holes that my dog, or my good friends dog would make in our connecting fence. Still, no matter how hard I tried they somehow managed to occasionally escape.

It became really bad when her dog came in heat, and she would leave her dog in the backyard all day. The dogs destroyed the fence trying to get to each other. It didn’t bother them at all that he was her father. That’s just what dogs do.

Sixty one days later, her dog was having the incest puppies outside on the ground. I came over to help my neighbor out, since neither her or her dog knew what to do. I had to pick up the puppies, still enclosed in the birth sack, break it open, clear the fluids from their noses, and then stimulate them until they began to breath on their own.

I helped out my neighbor because she’s my friend, but in the back of my mind a part of me wanted to do what my father did to unwanted puppies.... Smash them all in the head. Out of six puppies, four lived... the two were stillborn.

The puppies are now almost 6 weeks old, and all though they are cute and healthy, I can’t get past the fact that the mom and the puppies have the same father. It makes me want to vomit every time I see them. I don’t know how to get past this other than just not seeing them and hope my friend quickly gets rid of them.

I’ve read that most women serial killers, kill by using poisons. I’ll admit that I have used this method to dispose of a few unwanted things in my life, but so far no people. (One of my voices giggled when I wrote that and whispered... "I’m not going to tell you what those things are because I’m not fucking going to jail"). For me, I think If I were to kill someone, it would probably be a pedophile or someone who commits incest, and then I wouldn‘t poison them. Instead, I would inflict painful injuries to their body until they slowly bled to death or died from trauma to the head and genitals.

I struggle with thoughts like this, sometimes for days at a time. Different people that I have talked to over the years, tell me I need to move on with my life and stop thinking so much about the things that occurred in my past. That’s not easy, when good friends have friends that are registered pedophiles, they live on your block, shop in the same stores, you hear on TV or online about the horrible crimes they committed against children or their own children, you see them with other children, and I know in the back of mind what is going on. It breaks my heart, and sends me flying back in time.

The same thing happens every time I see my friends puppies. It’s like a sharp slap to my face, telling me no matter what I do, I can’t stop it from happening. That’s what hurts the most, knowing I can’t do a damn thing. It gives me that helpless feeling, and that in turn makes me angry.

I beginning to think that maybe poisoning something’s in life might not be a bad idea, if it were to give me back some of that helpless feeling that was taking away from me. The only thing that keeps me from doing anything psycho, is one of those voices in the back of my head, that is floating down a river on a inner tube, doesn’t want to come out the water, and that is the one who that carries out all my insanely psycho thoughts.

************************

I’m thinking about going on a violent killing spree,
Taking out those who have caused me only misery.

But maybe I’ll just shoot them in the knee,
Leaving an open weeping wound for all to see.

Let them go on struggling to forget every day,
Only to have the haunting memory never fade away.

Just Breathe

2009-11-14T01:21:00.005-06:00

The other night I sat alone at one of the parks and watched the local pd as I debated on laying open my flesh. As I held the blade tightly between my fingers, I flashed back to what it was like the last time a had to have stitches in my arm. I have cut since then, but only small rips at my skin that needed little or no attention. These wounds are minor compared to the normal 7 stitches that it takes to close one of my usual ‘accidents’.

I knew the officers that were on duty, and of course they all know me, so I really didn’t want to get caught doing something that is believed to only occur in teenagers, not to women over 40. After all these years of cutting, I still sometimes can not stop myself from inflicting pain to my body, but if I put myself in the right position, I will write instead. That was what I decided to do this time, write about what it was like the last time I cut myself deep.

This story mixes a little reality, with a bit of fiction.

------------------------------

I’m standing outside a heavy steel metal door, with only a small thick glass window that looks into a tiny five foot by twelve foot room. I focus in on a dimly lit image standing towards the back of the room near a metal toilet with a sink attached on the back. I press my face closer and open my eyes wide trying to make the image more defined. I can tell that it is a person, and I think I recognize them, but I can’t seem to remember.

She is tall and a rather large woman with dirty blonde hair, and she is wearing a blue tee-shirt. She has her back to me, but I can make out that she is doing something with her arm.

I wipe a tear from my eye, blinking several times until I’m able to focus more clearly.

The woman is standing near the toilet with her arm leaning over a metal sink. She holds something shiny in her right hand. Something sharp. I wonder what she is doing? As she turns partly sideways I can see her left arm covered in fresh red blood. It is dropping steadily into the sink, splashing the sides until the blood flows down like spilled paint. Blood covers the razor sharp cutting edge of the blade that she holds tightly in her shaking right hand.

As the blood slows, she makes another slice deeper into the wound, filling it with fresh blood. It begins to drain down her arm, making a big mess, splattering onto the floor. She uses toilet paper from the back of the sink to wipe up the large droplets of blood from the floor. She uses more to slow the heavy flow of blood dripping down to her elbow.

I stand there, mesmerized by her actions, when without warning an almost familiar force grabs me around my throat and like a tornado, it sucks my dead mind through the tiny window. I now stand side by side the woman with the blood soaked arm, watching her lean over the sink to avoid making a mess for others to clean. In her eyes, I see the shame and disgust at what she has done.

I reach out to grab her arm, to let her know she doesn’t have to continue cutting. The wound is deep enough. As our eyes meet, I see the deep pain, I understand, but now we have to get help. Our hands touch and slowly mix together, until we become one.

I am now her. I am in control. I look down at the bloody blade that she held so tightly in her right hand, and my eyes open wide as I look at the open oozing new wound. My eyes stare widely at the steadily dripping blood, and I realize it is my arm that is bleeding heavily into the cold steel metal sink.

“Oh shit!” my voice trembles and my right hand shakes with the bloody blade. My whole body flushes with a surge of adrenaline and I begin to awaken. “Fuck! Who cut my damn arm? Why? Why do you do this?”

A voice from far away whispers, ‘She did it. She’s always the one who cuts.’ I hear the voice of the others arguing, fighting. They are the voices that feel like they don’t belong to me.

I cautiously sit the sharp blade on the back of the sink as a rush of sadness consumes my brain, squeezing it until tears swell from my eyes. It blurs my vision until I squeeze my eyes tightly and let the tears cascade down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away, and then use the remaining toilet paper to wipe up the blood that has once again dripped onto the floor.

I think maybe I can hide the wound, but it won’t stop bleeding. I need more tissue. The weeping voice inside me is hurt. The others fight about who’s fault it really is, and why one of them doesn’t step forward before she cuts.

With a sudden tear-jerking jolting shock, I realize where I am, and that I’ve got to stop the bleeding. I turn on the water and wash the blood from the open wound, letting the water stain a light rose color. The bleeding only becomes worse as the cool water stings the open wound. I carefully inspect the laceration that shows the fatty tissue underneath. There is no pain, just a slight stinging sensation, but the blood continues to pour from the wound.

I realize I will have to go to the emergency room, but I hate going to the ER. It’s always embarrassing trying to explain that I ‘accidentally’ cut myself, but this time others will be with me. I can not use that excuse. Along with all the stares, there is always at least one person who will make me feel even less of a human than I already do. They know what happened, but they don’t want to do all the paperwork that comes with committing someone for cutting themselves, so they won't say anything.

Maybe I should just cut a little deeper, and then lay down and go to sleep. A part of me struggles with what to do.

“Fuck!” I shout loud enough to vibrate off the walls. Nobody has this many accidents on their arm. Nobody. My arm is a battlefield, and each scar tells a separate story, many of which I would rather forget. Worse my mind questions, how do I explain this to those closest around me? How am I once again going to hide the wound?

Blood drains down my arm to the floor. A voice inside me is urging with me to get someone’s attention. ‘You need help’ a tiny voice whispers from somewhere far away. I shake my head in shame, and ponder how does one ask for help when they are locked up alone behind a solid steel door? Sadness gathers deep in my chest and I try to swallow.

I hear heavy footsteps coming. A voice steps forward, she’s the one who always has to have everything neat and tidy. She just wants more tissue so there won’t be a mess. A young man looks though the small thick glass window and sees what she has done.

I sit down on the small cot and take a deep breath. I know within only a few moments others will come. Later I will feel the familiar calmness that overtakes my entire body after I cut. It is that calmness that we seek. Afterwards we will sleep long and hard. Our mind will rest peacefully. But even as I do sleep soundly, one of us knows it hasn’t been a good day.

They know the hard part will come later, when I have to hide the latest cut from those I don’t want to know. I question myself if it was worth the few hours of feeling euphoric while I sat next to the officer baby sitting me as the they put seven stitches into my left arm to close the deep laceration. Maybe the next day will be a better day. This I know, she will not have to cut again for a few months.

When We Forget the Past, We Are Dommed to Repeat It

2009-11-11T20:43:00.001-06:00

Gritting my teeth.... If I didn’t I would probably bite someone’s head off.

I’ve been in this ‘pissed off at the world’ kind of mood for several days now, and I feel an overwhelming need to get away from everybody and everything. Even if it’s just a few yards, I need some sort of distance. I’ve been extremely edgy, yelling about the things that are not in their place, about how unclean everything is around me, just yelling about everyday stressful things that take place.

When I get like this, I have to write. I do most of my writing at home on my computer, or in my bedroom in one of the various notebooks where I keep most of my more serious thoughts. But every now and then, I escape to one of the local parks. Mostly because I enjoy the feeling of being around the trees, smelling the fresh air, and being able to feel alone with my thoughts for a little while.

There is one park that I mostly tend to lurk around, which is fine during the daytime, but at night this causes a problem with local law enforcement. So, again I started studying/stalking them a little recently to discover a pattern in their activities. This then allows me to spend my time relaxing in my own way at the park during the times I feel the need. It has worked several times without a problem, but every now and then I lose myself into some deep thoughts when writing and get caught. Luckily Officer R was in a good mood this time and let me off with a polite warning. Thanks.

Being bi-polar is very rough. It can lead you down roads you normally would be to frightened to travel, and you find yourself doing things that later leave you wondering what the fuck you were thinking. Such as thinking about cutting myself deep enough to need stitches. But I don’t want anyone to find out, so instead I’ve been inflicting small injuries where others can’t see, or won’t really question what happened. It was just something to shock my mind out of feeling unpredictable, and to slow the racing thoughts. Sometimes that is not enough. Here is where the police come into the picture.

Where I sit at the park, I can see where they are in the distance. I‘ve even done this at other parks in different towns. When I get to the level where I want to do extreme cutting, I go park where they are within a short distance. ( Q-Trip is sometimes a good place to park:) ) Then instead of cutting, I write. From past experiences I know if law enforcement were to view my ‘accident’ they might try to lock me up somewhere. Locking me up actually makes things worse, because the moment I’m left alone, I will cut myself deep. It’s like a part of me says it’s okay now to cut, because if you cut too deep someone will be there to help you. Later is when it messes with my mind.

I’m still finishing up the rest of my thoughts that I wrote the other night, so I’ll post it a little later.

Frolicking Around in the Land of Oz

2009-11-06T23:42:00.006-06:00

----Warning Adult Material----

The people in this town think I’m nuts,
they just don't know how right they are.

People around me, give me my inspiration. Thanks for the story. No harmful intent is meant to anyone, this is just for simple pleasure. This story draws characters from real life, however the story itself is 100% fictional. This is the world of fantasy and fiction where the hidden corners of the psyche may be explored.

Years ago I lost the ability to catch the type of fish I was after, so I devised a plan that involved using a different type of worm. That was where my neighbor became involved... she became my bait. She is young, pretty, thin, and has child-like qualities that my type of prey tend to desire. All I had to do was stick the hook down her throat and she would unknowingly help me vanquish my enemies. I no longer had to chase my prey, she would bring them to the surface for me and reveal their hiding locations. Then I could rob them of their wealth, or force them to perform sexual acts of humiliation.

Frolicking Around in the Land of Oz

Jay was in for what he thought was going to be a lousy weekend. Normally he spent his weekends patrolling the streets, preventing crime by spending most of his shift driving up and down well known streets. But for this weekend, he had agreed to change shifts with another officer who needed Wednesday and Thursday nights off to attend a meeting out of town.

He sat home alone, thinking about the different women he attracted just because of his uniform. Even though some of the encounters were frightening, it didn’t stop him from enjoying the job he loved. Occasionally he would spend his night shift posted at the local Q-Trip store watching the young girls come and go, flirting only with the ones who possessed young flirty girl-like qualities.

Officer Jay sat in the darkened room, smiling, thinking about a girl he had flirted with many times, when he was suddenly startled by a noise coming from his bedroom. Jay quickly rose, heart beating rapidly in his chest, took a deep breath and picked up his weapon from the coffee table. He heard footsteps coming his direction, so he quietly stepped behind a door going into the living room and waited on the intruder.

Jay was somewhat shocked when the intruder began walking into the living room. As the person came closer, he was surprised to see it was one of the girls he had flirted with at Q-Trip. She was dressed in low cut, tight fitting shirt and snug fitting jeans. He couldn’t help being turned on as he watched her stroll across the floor towards the kitchen, but then his officer training took effect and Jay stepped from the darkened corner.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” Jay shouted from the darkness.

All four foot, nine inches of Jennile froze.

“What are you doing in here?” Jay asked as he stepped towards her.

Jennile slowly turned around with a big naughty smile on her face, licked her lips, and stepped up to Jay, making contact with his body. “I just came by to say hello.”

Jay looked down at Jennile as she stared up at his 6’1”, 200lb body. He could feel the heat of her breath on his chest and it sent waves of pleasure descending deep enough to cause his cock to throb with excitement.

“How do I know you’re not here to rob or kill me?” Jay said with a slight smirk across his face.

“What do you want me to do? Take off my shirt to prove I’m not hiding anything?” Jennile giggled, took a step back away from Jay, and began removing her shirt. As Jay watched, she dropped it onto the floor, then removed her jeans and tossed them next to her shirt.

Jay began to smile. “That’s good Jennile, but you might be hiding a weapon in your bra. So, I think you need to removed it, so I can make sure.”

Jennile unfastened the bra and dropped it on the floor as Jay leaned forward to exam her lightly tanned nipples, and her smooth lean stomach. Jennile giggled like a schoolgirl as Jay ordered her down on her knees. She obediently knelt down in front of him. Jay reached down to her small petite body and stroked her pretty face and short black hair.

“I’m a bad girl. I need to be severely punished. Just please don’t take me to jail officer. I’ll do anything you want.” Jennile again giggled at the playful remarks.

Jay smiled and decided to play along with her little game. “All right, my little thief. Looks like I’m going to serve up a little harsh punishment. Unzip my pants.”

Her fingers lightly brushed against his semi-hardness, sending delicious tingles up and down Jay’s spine. Jennile swallowed hard as she reached her little hand inside his jeans. She could feel the soft cotton of his briefs, and the thick hardness of his cock underneath. Every movement of her fingers brought him pleasure as she slowly removed his cock. In her small hands, his cock looked like a monster, and she gasped when she saw its full length.

Jay grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her towards his cock. “Suck it for me you little bitch thief. And if you tell anyone, I’ll have you arrested for stealing.” Jay then pulled Jennile closer to his cock and ordered her to open her mouth. Jennile took his cock fully in her mouth without hesitation. Her tongue moved tentatively against the bottom of his cock, leaving a hot wet trail. Jay began taking short pants of air as he forced her head up and down his thick cock.

Unfortunately Jennile was much weaker than Jay and she couldn’t stop him from forcing his cock deeper into her throat. Jennile gagged and had to force herself back to keep from throwing up. Jay pulled his cock out of her mouth, grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Well, now little thief, that was a good start, but now put you hands behind your back.”

Jennile started to resist, but with his strength he was able to quickly restrain her. He cuffed her wrists together and pushed her onto the couch so that she was kneeling on the cushions, her face pressed into the back of the couch.

“What are you going to ...” she tried to say, just as he pressed a washrag into her mouth. Jennile struggled to spit it out, but he was on top of her, easily holding her in place with one knee on her back.

Jay’s cock had softened a bit, but it quickly became rock hard again as he reached around her and pulled down her underwear. His eyes hungrily sucked in the sight of her firm young ass as he yanked her panties from her thin body. Jay slid a finger in between her legs and started rubbing his finger over her smooth cunt. He slid a finger into her opening and began rubbing it back and forth. Jennile squirmed, trying to let out small squeals of pleasure. His excitement began to build as he placed the head of his cock near her tight anal opening and began rubbing the head of his cock up and down.

Without a warning, Jay felt someone behind him, but didn’t have a chance to even turn around before he felt a object being smashed against his skull. He awoke to his head aching.

He cradled his head in his cuffed hands as his eyes scanned across the darken room. He tries to struggle, but he can’t move.

----------------------------------------

For part two of this story you will have to visit one of my other sites since Goggle does not allow me to post naughty stories on this site with ads.

http://mspsycho.wordpress.com/

http://mspsychossexythoughts.blogspot.com/

Hope you have a sexy ass day!!

MsPsycho

The Return of the Psycho Thoughts

2009-10-27T22:19:00.002-05:00

Some days I feel like sitting in a darkened corner, and simply muttering incoherent thoughts to the wall. Today this blog is my wall.

I’m tempted to write some far-out, freak-imaged, kill-all nonsense, while patently being uncaring about what others think or how they respond. I stopped posting a lot of my more atypical stories, mostly because of my last tryst with law enforcement. Since I’m fairly sure they still occasionally return, I‘ve been trying to hold back on the bizarre thoughts of wanting to psychically hurt Officer .... Why? Because the other day while I was in the process of returning something my son didn’t need, officer ... felt the need to stare me down. Why? I wasn’t doing anything illegal! He followed me to the return counter and waited until I got my refund, then he walked up to the lady behind the counter and spoke to her about something. Maybe it was just my untrusting side, or my deeply rooted hate towards law enforcement that sent my mind digging around in the mud, but my thoughts are turning intrusive, which only means one thing.... It’s time to kill Officer ... then steal everything he has.

I believe as high as 90% of people have thoughts about killing someone at some point in their lives. It’s like crawling into the heart of darkness and you no longer think rationally. The brakes fail, and the sudden impulse to kill enters the mind. Different people have different reasons for crossing that line, but usually it is because of one of the reasons such as extreme hate, they are experiencing envy, some do it for the money, jealousy over what the other person has that they don’t, revenge is always a good reason, and then there are the ones who are just plain psychotic and do it for the thrill or notoriety.

The first time I crossed that line, it was because my emotions overcame my ability to reason. At the point of the kill, my judgment was set aside, and I was utterly oblivious to the consequences of my actions. There was never any plan, or time to prepare scenarios for the different possible outcomes that I later discovered would happen when taking a persons life.

Weeks later, I began entertaining thoughts of what it would be like to kill someone that involved taking a bigger risk. I repeatedly prepared scenarios, going as far as acquiring a weapon, stalking my possible target, selecting the best time, making sure I had an alibi, and lastly how to dispose of the body. My first kill was completely disorganized, but by the time I had killed more than one person I had learned how to plan for the possible different outcomes.

While I deliberated on who to kill next, I would have vivid and recurrent homicidal fantasies that would reach such an intense peak, that the brakes on my murderous impulses could not be stopped. My thoughts invariability precede the deed. After many years of not getting caught, I began going longer and longer in-between kills, until I was able to turned those thoughts off.

They say our nature is shaped by outside forces such as teachers, parents, peers, society, media, and culture. So, what happens to an individual when all these outside forces respond with nothing but negativity towards this person? Teachers treat the student with no respect, parents abusive, peers repeatedly tease, society laughs and mocks. Does this person one day just snap, and lose touch with all reality?

A few years ago I was pulled over for improper lane change by a local officer. The officer said I didn‘t signal quick enough before I got over in the other lane. I was in a bad mood, my blood sugar was really low, and I thought it was a ridiculous reason to stop a person and give them a ticket. But I knew the real truth, he didn’t like me, and I was fully aware that he thought I was nothing but a waste of sperm, so I had no respect for him. What pushed me over the edge was when he called me fat and stupid. At that moment it didn’t brother me as much as it did later when I was alone and thought about his actions. I wanted nothing more than to hunt him down at that moment and take his life for making me feel worthless. He did what many others had done to me throughout my life, he undermined my self-esteem, making me believe that I would never feel wanted by anyone.

After years of not killing, I once again grappled with my thoughts, going as far as tricking someone else into finding out where he lived. When I found out where his apartment was in Tulsa, I stalked him for a few days, discovering his daily routine. While I sat nearby and watched his place, I began entertaining alternate solutions of how I could keep a fantasy from turning into reality. Eventually I decided on another plan that didn’t involved killing him, but would still cause problems in his life. I still have an assortment of opportunities, but instead I choose to deliberate, for years if necessary. Maybe again someday my emotions will overcome my ability to once again reason.

-------------------------

My next story will be for the officer who stopped me last night at the football field. Smile for me, because I know you really can't stand me...hehe.

ROAD TO HAPPINESS: (Under Construction)

2009-10-19T22:31:00.007-05:00

First off, update on my spider bite. My regular doctor sent me to a specialist at the Women’s Breast Center, where they removed a piece of dead tissue about the size of a half-dollar from my left breast. I now have a open wound that will heal shut with time, but it will leave a scar. (Pictures at the bottom of post.)

On to a thought or two...

Time has a sneaky way of slipping past a person when they aren’t looking. When you are young, you’re carefree, frolicking through the life with no thought to the next moment. As a teen you become invincible, and somehow you know the answers to everything. In your 20s and 30s you don’t really have much time to think about anything, you just move along, trying to make it to the next day. When you hit your 40s, something changes and you realize you are probably at the half-way point in your life. It’s that mid-life crisis thing, and you’re convinced everything from there on has to go downhill. Anyway, that’s how my life has been.

Some of the more recent things that have happened in my life has caused me to seek out old companions, just to see where their life is now compared with mine. It’s been interesting reacquainting myself with some of the people I went to high school with on facebook, but its also sad thinking about the fact that it has been 25 years since I saw any of them. Time has blinked away, leaving nothing but memories...some good, some bad.

High school was rough. Not just on me, but others had their own demons to deal with. I guess I was just to busy dealing with my own demons to notice how the smartest kid in school had parents that were janitors at the school, and he felt shame because of that. He pushed himself hard after high school, fearing he would turn out to be no better than a janitor or a dishwasher. I never really noticed or thought it was that big of a deal, but it was to him. That’s why he fought hard to become someone better, someone who ran his own company, and then paid others to clean up after him. It took him 25 years of fighting to keep the demons at bay, but he finally won. He says he’s now truly happy.

There are days when I wish I could find the kind of happiness that he proclaims he is now experiencing. When I really think about it, my life hasn’t been 100% horrible, tragic, or devastating beyond recovery. I have had my days when I wished to end it all, but somehow I made it past those days, and was later truly thankful that I did. I will probably always have psycho thoughts, but I will deal with them when they occur. For now, things are quiet.

Spider bite before dead tissuse was removed.

After dead tissue was removed.
Picture from 2 days ago.

Living With Harmful Creatures Everywhere

2009-10-04T02:11:00.014-05:00

WARNING GRAPHIC PHOTOS BELOW!!!!

I seem to have developed a new disorder, but at least this one I understand why. Last Sunday evening, around 7pm, I had just returned home from a long day. Wanting to relax, I took off my shirt for a more comfortable, older, I’m at home kind of tee-shirt. I then turned on the TV and laid back on my bed with a half-joint that I had gotten from a good friend. By the time I began to finally relax, I began feeling odd. My heart rate was racing too fast, I was beginning to itch everywhere, I was having a difficult time taking in a deep breath, and then I started coughing and coughing.

One hour later, my coughing finally begins to cease, but now the middle of my chest is on fire, and I’m getting the hot and cold chills. At my age, I freak out a little bit, and decide to go online and read about the symptoms of having a heart attack. (Instead of going to the ER right then and there....dumb me!) The main pain at the time was staying in the center of my chest and not spreading outward, so my thought was it was just from all the coughing I had done. And it was only hurting when I moved or twisted, so I felt safe that it wasn’t my heart, but something was wrong.

By 11pm, I was down. My body was completely drained and I could barely move. It was then that I noticed the large area on the underside of my left breast was swollen and discolored. On the right side there was a small, but still very red, irritated area. I still wasn’t putting it all together that I was having a reaction to being bitten by anything, let alone a Black Widow Spider, and decided I could ‘sleep it off. ’ I was quickly asleep, but within a short time, I was having the most extreme pain (rated it right up there with child birth) in my left breast.

Still, I kept thinking it would just go away, because I really didn’t have time to deal with what was happening. I was suppose to ride along with my older son the next day to show him how to get to his college campus at Spartan. He has never drove in the area, and was afraid of getting lost, plus I needed to come along and fill out more financial aide papers. Problem was by morning, my body had begun to shut down.

I couldn’t force myself out of bed, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I slept until 5 p.m. before a friend bought me some soup and water. I only managed to get down a couple bites of soup and a sip or two or water, before the nausea slammed my body. With the urging of my good friend, I got dressed and went to the ER.

By the time I arrived, the pain was unbearable. I only waited a few minutes, but it seemed like forever. I remember thinking, that I wished I had been brought in by ambulance so I could receive faster treatment. Finally, the nurse called me back and began asking me several questions and took my vital signs, which weren’t very good. My heart was racing 158 beats, my temperature was 103*, my blood pressure was high, and I was sweating. I showed her the spot on my breast, and told her my chest was hurting. She quickly got a wheelchair and took me to a room.

Everyone quickly rushed around me and began hooking up monitors, blood pressure cuff, oxygen, EKG, while one nurse hooked up a IV in a vein that kept collapsing. They gave me morphine for the pain, which helped for my chest, but the pain in my left breast was steadily intensifying. They then gave me more pain medication, and began running numerous test and x-rays.

My entire body ached from head toe, and it was very difficult to move or breathe comfortably. Inside my breast, it felt like someone was squeezing the inside tissue with a handful of needles, every few minutes. A little after midnight, they took another large vial of blood, to make sure no damaged was being done to my heart.

Around 1am, my son came to pick me up after they decided it was safe enough to release me. They gave me a round of steroids, more pain medication, a heavy duty antibiotic, and the scripts to get more filled. I crashed hard the minute I got home, but sleep was never deep. I repeatedly had fears of being bitten again, because I hadn’t found what bit me, and along with all the pain, sleep was not an option.

At least I now fully understand what the deal is with steroids, and why men like them so adamantly. But damn, it doesn’t let me sleep much, and I think I’m eating way too much. Still, if that is what I have to do to deal with this infection, then I’ll just worry about how I’m going to react to coming off of them later. (Watch out police department...just a joke....or is it?)

Tuesday I went to see my own doctor who put me on even more steroids and stronger antibiotics, along with what I’m already taking. I developed a severe rash from the pills, but if I can’t take them, then it means going to the hospital for IV antibiotics, so I’m fighting through the horrible itching.
Anyway tomorrow is day 7, and the wound looks horrible. I’ve been doing some research on what is expected to happen, but my doctors reaction alone tells me, its not going to be better for a very long time.

So, I now have arachnophobia... A extreme fear of spiders.
(To my followers...please forgive me if I'm not around for a little while...thanks for stopping by.)

Warning graphic photos:

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Daily Life Goes On

2009-09-26T02:00:00.004-05:00

All day long I’ve been walking around with all thoughts on what to blog about, and I just really can’t seem to stop on just one line of thought. I usually try to force myself to post a blog on this site at least 4 times a month, no matter what my mood may be for that day. If I don’t do this, I feel my mind becomes cluttered beyond recognition, and I will seek out relief in non-standard ways. I honestly don’t like going to those extremes, and hope I never have to go that far into the darkness again.

So let me clear my throat (love that song).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqfCluBH3qY

For days now I’ve been so busy helping my oldest son get his life in line, that I really haven’t had much time for me. Which is actually good, because staying busy has kept me from doing things like my last act of stupidity. But tonight I’m alone. Alone with my thoughts, and I’m struggling hard to let them try to form into something coherent enough to put into words.

I can’t say that I’m unhappy, or happy right now. I just exist. Mostly I exist for my boys. If it wasn’t for them, I would have checked out of this life a long time ago. Focusing in on their needs has been my lifeline to staying in the real world. I guess I’m like most parents, I want to give them more than what was offer to me when I was a teen.

It all started a couple weeks ago with me taking both my sons to the DMV. My 19-year-old had yet to pass the test, because he just didn’t study enough. After failing the test for the second time, I think he was afraid of failing again, so he didn’t try again until almost a year later. And then it was only because his 16-year-old brother wanted to get his learners permit.

Nobody had better ever tell me I don’t love my boys, because after only getting a couple hours of sleep, I got up at 5:00am to make sure we were the first ones at the DMV. A light rain fell as I drove along, jacked up on a large cup of French vanilla coffee. My thoughts kept running to, “I hope the rain stops before my older son has to do the driving part. I don‘t want him to wreck the car I just got in May.” I was more worried about that than him passing the test. Mother instinct told me they would both pass the written part, and they did.

Both of them had the biggest smiles on their faces, which made me feel really good. The rain ended, and my older son took off in my car. Ten minutes later he returned with a big smile on his face...he was now a licensed driver. All week the smiles have continued, as I let my younger one take the wheel on the way to the store, or on his way home from football practice, and my older one has the dream truck of his life. I’ll admit, I love the truck myself, and the price was really good.

I just hate all the crap that comes with getting a vehicle. The salesmen are like vultures, hovering and circling above the meat, waiting to dive down and grab a bite. Then there’s all the paperwork, and the signing of this and that, agreeing to ... Etc... In the end all that disappears when you’re driving away from the dealership, inhaling the fresh scent of a new/used vehicle. It’s even better, when that’s your first vehicle. I felt deeply for my son.

Some people have already told me that I went to far when I helped my 19 year old son get his first dream truck. But again, I want to give my boys every opportunity I never had, to achieve their dreams. It’s stressful agreeing to a large loan for my son, hoping he doesn’t fail and leave me having to figure it all out. Still, I sucked up the stress and did it anyway.

He should start Spartan in a couple weeks, and things are really going to get hard on him. And I’m going to be there for him, as much as I can be, signing papers, agreeing to loans, paying for his gas back and forth...etc... Isn’t that what parents are suppose to do?

When the President of the United States got out of college, he owed over a hundred thousand dollars in loans, but look where he is now. When my first son finishes school, he will owe a lot of money, to a lot of people, but hopefully he will have learned enough to get a really good job and be able to have a very successful life after I am gone. When it’s time for my other son, I will do the same for him.

I'm out for the night...

Hell, Maybe I'm Just Plain Psychotic

2009-09-05T21:24:00.004-05:00

I’ve been spending a vast amount of time doing things ‘normal’ people would never consider doing, or even having the thought cross through their mind. Most of the time, I feel very little remorse about having psycho thoughts, so when they begin, I will sometimes let them bury me in the deepest hole, or fly me to the moon. I have safely done this in the past, so at that moment, I felt I had no reason to refrain from indulging in my hunger for stimulation. I just wasn’t fully aware of where my thoughts were going to take me this time.

Even to me, there is no obvious motivation behind what I did. Maybe it was because of my desire for excitement, or I was yearning for something more than my usually boost of adrenalin that I get from speeding. I just know that I had a strong overpowering impulse to deliberately do what I did, in order to relieve the intense tension that I’ve been experiencing for the past several weeks now. I was at a point, where I was willing to do anything in order to shock my system back to some sort of ‘normal’.

I’ve just been feeling incredibly powerless to cope with all the stress in my life, and the psycho thoughts were consuming my every waking breath, so I repeatedly began seeking out means to discharge all the tension by doing various activities, including many that are illegal, but caused no harm to anyone. Each one that I attempted, failed to help me stop the burial of my mind. With no control of my impulses, I went to extreme levels, but my actions finally managed to induce the euphoria that my mind needed/craved in order to stabilize my moods.

It has been many years since I had to bulldoze that hard to get out of my depression hole, and I hope I never again have to manufacture that kind of excitement, in order to elevate a potential crisis. At the time, I couldn’t envision any way to achieve the relief my mind was seeking, so when the opportunity presented itself, it occurred without thought. The euphoria continues to linger as I think back to my actions, which has been very helpful in stabilizing the chaos in my head.

It’s Labor Day weekend, so I’m going to have a couple of mixed drinks, and stay in the safety of my asylum for the night. Tomorrow, I’m going for my long walk in the woods at the back of Lambert Park, and enjoy the freedom my mind is experiencing.

I am writing this to prove

I once lived in a world which didn't understand

nor cared enough to find out...

My Mental War Rages On

2009-08-29T22:06:00.003-05:00

I want to let go of the pain and let others have it.

I need a vacation or someway to get away from everybody and every stimulant. I feel blank. I can’t concentrate, I feel hopeless, helpless, you know, all the things that come along with having depression. I hate this part of being bi-polar, far worse than having the mania. I felt it coming at the beginning of the week and tried to head it off by doing activities that would lead my mind to other places, but it failed to work. Here it is the end of the week and feelings still linger around like a lost, starving puppy trying to find a home.

I went out a couple nights ago, driving around in my circles, letting the wind blow across my face, just so I could feel something more comfortable. Plus, I also have writers block going on, so getting away from others seems to sometimes help relax my mind. Problem is late at night it’s hard to find a place that is away from everybody, but still a legal place to sit in the stillness of the night air, to gather my thoughts.

I somehow thought I could get away with sitting at one of the local parks after 11p.m. I honestly believed I had until midnight, but the local PD let me know differently. At least they were nice when telling me the parks closed at 11pm, which disturbed my thoughts a little. It made my mind scatter towards reasons like, ‘why was he so nice to me?’ or ‘did he know why I was really there?’

After driving around in my circles for a little while, I settled like a old hound dog, at the end of a newly built road that would eventually led to new housing. I rolled down my car windows and enjoyed the fresh scent of the night air, drifting across the open field in front of me. I took several deep breaths, in an attempt to clear some of the clutter from my mind. But the more I thought about my daily struggles, and the struggles I would continue to have for many more years to come, the more I wanted it all to come to an end.

I let the darkness crept into my mind, and begin eating away any rational thought that might still be floating around in my head. I picked up one of the many sharp objects, I keep within reach at all times, and held the smooth metal in my right hand. Cutting for me, has always been a way to keep me from doing something even more stupid than simply laying open my skin.

I sat in the darkness with only a small light that illuminated one of my many spiral notebooks, and wrote 8 pages without looking up or letting go of the blade. The only thing that finally brought me out of thought, was the sound of sirens coming my direction. I watched a rescue unit, with lights flashing, fly past, followed by someone else with there lights going. I figured law enforcement would soon follow and one of them would surely see me sitting in the darkness. Instead of having to deal with them, or letting them see the small amount of blood that dripped from my arm, I started my car and began to leave the area. Problem was there was only one way out.

He didn’t hit his lights, but drove near my car window and told me he was just checking who was back there. He let me know that it was okay for me to park there and write if I wanted to, and to have a good night. Then he drove off in the direction the rescue unit went. Again my mind went to questions like before, ‘why was he so nice?’, ‘what did he really want?’ I didn’t want to take the chance on him or another officer returning, so I sat for only a few more minutes before I headed back to the staleness of home.

Since that night, all I’ve done is mostly sleep. I slept 12 hours, Wednesday and Thursday night, thinking that would help elevate some of the homicidal/suicidal thoughts from wrapping tightly around my throat and choking out what little life that remains. The bad days have to pass soon. I don’t want to go as far as loading the weapon, and then standing over them as they sleep, debating if I will pull the trigger or not.

I'm Corrupt

2009-08-23T22:29:00.001-05:00

Corrupt

C - cannot follow law
O - obligations ignored
R - remorselessness
R - recklessness
U - underhandedness
P - planning deficit
T - temper

Take all the right actions, use all the right words and get by without any suspicion. It’s a quaint philosophy; fake it till you make it, and no one will be the wiser.

I see all these people hiding from reality, but I understand how vulnerable they truly are. In a way, I guess we’re all running away from something or someone, aren’t we? I figure it’s time I turned around and stopped running, and run head first into whatever I’m convinced is chasing me. Whatever it is, it knows my name and that’s probably what terrifies me the most.

Someone once called me ‘infamous’ and that stuck more in my mind, than what I was infamous for. I never really did anything worth talking about on the news, but I have had my briefs moments when things just weren’t as clear in my mind as they should have been.

I can’t really measure my sanity by any means; it’s been slipping away for years now. Each day I find myself falling deeper into the dark abyss, unable to grab hold of any dangling rope that might be offered. Even if it was offered, I’m not sure I would reach out to take it, someone would have to tie it around my body and yank me from the freezing darkness.

Total complete boredom has set in, so to make things interesting, I lie. I lie about everything, to anybody who will listen, but I mostly lie to myself. Making believe everything is okay, and somehow, someway, this is all just a bad dream that I will eventually awake from. I just have to find a way to keep my dark inner world from seeping out and infecting my outer world.

Hide the Keys to the Gun Case

2009-08-06T00:22:00.006-05:00

I’m just a girl who doesn’t know who she is
Because the mind I once had, suddenly became his.

For all I really know, I might not even exist.
That’s one of the reason I sometimes cut my wrist.

If I wake up tomorrow and I don’t know who I am,
Will anyone tell me if they give a damn?

Maybe some friendly person will take pity on my soul,
And tell me all the things that will make my mind whole.

*********************
The truth is they will just let me parade around like a delusional person trying to find something I lost a long time ago.
*********************

Light Up a Smoke and Stick Around for Awhile

Today my thoughts are running around in all the wrong directions. I tossed and turned for almost 6 hours of sleep before I couldn’t stand laying in bed for another minute because of the pain in my knees. I started going to psychical therapy last week to learn new exercises to help strengthen the muscles around my knees, so I can prepare for surgery in a few more months down the line. I’m told I have to have total knee replacements if I ever want to walk without pain again. Not sure if I want to go through all that. Still, the therapy seems to be helping with some of the relentless pain.

To help take my mind away from the unbending pain, I began pondering things like, ‘What would happen if I ....” Soon the thoughts turned intrusive and bore deep into my recesses of my mind, and hung around like open sore that you keep picking at. Here is a few things my mind explored today.

I wonder what would happen if I ...

If I... Walked down a road with heavy traffic rushing by at 65mph, and I ‘stumbled’ in front of the passing cars, would the firemen come to wash away all the blood?

If I ... Found the tallest building in Tulsa and went to the roof to jump off, would anyone care enough to stop me?

If I... Picked up my hammer and smashed my computer into a thousand pieces, then threw it out into the street, would other people understand?

If I ... I saw someone wearing a bullet proof vest, could I aim for their head or crotch and still be able to kill them?

If I ...walked into the store and got an overwhelming urge to smash all the eggs on the floor, would I have to clean it up?

If I ... Swam down into the deepest water, could I make it back to the top in time?

If I... Took a baseball bat to the police station and just went crazy breaking all the windows in their new patrol cars, would I kick them in the nuts when they try to arrest me?

If I ... Burned something, could it be put back together?

If I... Interrupted Obama during one of his speeches, would I be tasered?

If I ... Stab myself, will I survive?

If I ... Stuck my hand in the garbage disposal, would it hurt?

If I ... Used an assault rifle, how many could I kill before someone stopped me?

If I ... Closed my eyes while driving, and pushed the gas pedal down a little harder, would I wreck?

If I ... Jump off a tall building, would that end the fear of me falling?

If I... Carry out one of these urges, will I find myself levitating with a extreme mood lift and accompanying euphoria?

Quote:
Others may think you are crazy,
but it is the genius inside you that is giving you those thoughts.
Let your crazy thoughts come and success will follow.

Other things I keep thinking about...

I keep thinking, “If I didn’t love them... I would put them out of their misery.”

As I stood behind a man at Wal-Mart, I thought about picking up one of the steak knives in my shopping cart and plunging it into the middle of his back because I felt he was looking at a little girl in the wrong way.

I saw a highway patrolman and couldn’t stop myself from following him into Q-trip, just so I could think about how it would be to take his life with my bare hands.

Acknowledging the darker, evil part of my human psyche... It exist within us all.

Being aware of the evil within allows me to control it, rather than merely ignoring it and letting it fester through my being to the point where it can overwhelm me when I loose control.

Once you get right deep down into the core of a persons being, we're all evil, malignant assholes who probably deserve to die.

Just how else could humanity come to sit at the top of the global food chain? Only by being the smartest, toughest, most bloodthirsty motherfuckers on this rock.

Can I control these intrusive thoughts?
Can I trust my own mind not to do something stupid?
One thing is that I am usually too damn busy or lazy to act on them, but of course if I get a day when I’m not tired, or busy... Then the world better watch out.

I’ll be alright, as long as the breaks don’t fail.

*************************
My court is tomorrow. I was hoping I could come up with enough money to pay the damn ticket before having to appear, but it looks like I'll have to make payment arraignments. Damn I hate fucking court! Too much stress. I don't do good with stress. Guess, I'll just have to come prepared.

Time For a Mind Fuck

2009-08-04T02:16:00.006-05:00

****Warning Adult Material****

I’m obsessed with my pussy after I shave it smooth. I love the way it feels, the way it smells, hell even the way it taste is wonderful to my senses. Problem is I want to play with it all the time. I think about touching it while I’m walking through the store and I see some guy that looks like he would be fun to fuck. When I’m driving down the road and I hear a sexy song on the radio, I want to touch myself. Again I guess there’s nothing abnormal about that, unless you’re sneaking off into a public bathroom just so you can touch yourself.

I’ve never understood why it was expectable, healthy thing for a man to masturbate, but it was forbidden talk for a woman to even discuss such a topic when I was younger. There were so many things I had to learn on my own.

Then there’s porn. Most believe it’s not natural for a woman to want to watch porn. Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with watching porn, as long as everyone participating is over 18 and agreeing to what is taking place, porn can be very arousing. Sometimes a little too arousing.
I’ve been avoiding my other sites that just post information that has already been posted somewhere else on the web, and instead I’ve been trying to focus on writing more... Mostly some new sex stories. In order to get some fresh new ideas, I sometimes surf around to a few porn sites and watch various videos. I’ve been doing most of the ‘research’ in the evening when my older son is gone to work, and I’m alone for the night. I have one or two sites that I visit when I’m in the mood, but I will occasionally surf around and find a new site to visit.

Today I found a new site, and decided to spend a little time viewing the ‘mostly normal’ porn. Before I realized it, it was almost time to pick up my son from work. I quickly jumped into my car and drove towards his job. I’m just about to pull up, when I look at the time and realize that the clock on my computer was off again, and I still had almost 15 minutes before it was time to pick him up. Not wanting to sit around, I decided to go to the park near his job at Wal-Mart.

I drove to the back of the park, and found a place under some to trees to hide in the darkness. I felt safe enough there, but still I rolled up all the windows and locked the doors. I then put in a Prince CD and began listening to the song Cream. I immediately began thinking back to the videos that I had just watched. Flashes of hard dick being rapidly slammed into a woman’s pussy, flashed through my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I began to feel that all to familiar tingle beginning to stir deep in my lower stomach. I had never masturbated at the park, but the thought began seeping into the dark corners of my mind. It was shift change for law enforcement, so I figured I would be safe for a few minutes alone, and if anyone did come, I would be able to see their car lights before they had a chance to get close to me.

I left my car running, but turned out all the lights, and then I lowered the back of my seat to where it almost laid flat. I then spread my legs and put my right foot on the dashboard. This gave me plenty of room to reach down the front of my pants and cupped my freshly shaven cunt. I was still moist from watching the porn videos, so it was easy to lubricate my clit. I began twitching it back and forth between my fingers, making its little head swell. I slowly increased the pressure and stroked my clit up and down, pulling out my sweet juice from my hole.

I stopped a couple times when I had to look up to see if there were any cars coming. I didn’t want to have to explain to anyone what I was doing. I wanted it to be my little private dirty secret.

I continued listening to Prince as the song Darling Nicki began to play. I closed my eyes and went with the rhythm as I slowly worked my fingers up and down the sides of my clit. I was getting so close, but kept pausing to look up and see if any cars were coming, or if some stranger was staring in the window at me.

I looked down at the time and noticed I only had a couple minutes until it was time to pick up my son, and I hadn’t gotten off yet. At first I thought about stopping, but then I had this feeling that I was being watched, and something about that, made me speed up my stoking. Within in 30 seconds, I felt the swelling of my clit increase, and I began pumping out short little burst of cum. It continued pulsing from inside my hole, as I brushed my clit back and forth lightly.

Finally, I took a deep breathe and removed my hand from my soaked cunt. I couldn’t believe how much I had gotten off. I put my fingers one by one in my mouth and licked the cum from my fingertips. The racing of my heart slowed as I sat the seat back to its upright position. I quickly put my car in gear and left the park knowing I had yet another dirty little secret.

My game has continued for a over a week now, and each time I enjoy the thrill of what I’m doing a little more. I seem to be addicted to the possibility of some stranger lurking in the woods waiting to sneak up on me and catch me in the middle of my sex act. Now, I’m beginning to rethink this ‘thought’ after a close call a couple nights ago. I had just finished getting off and had begun to leave the park. Just as I was about to drive out, a police officer began pulling into the park. I almost froze.

He drove past me as I pulled over to another area so I could put my seatbelt on. I then expeditiously re-adjusted the seat and drove away, leaving him in the park wondering what I was doing. It also left me wondering what he was doing in the park at almost 11pm, especially since it was shift change. Have they figured out that criminals know when their shift changes and that is when some choose to break the law?

My thoughts turned to him coming up behind me and turning his lights on. I didn’t need another charge. I began wondering if he did stop me, would be able to smell the sex on my hand, even though once again I had licked my fingers afterwards? Would I then have to register as a sex offender if caught by law enforcement? The thought scares the hell out of me, but the thought is also what sent me right back to the park again tonight.

hehe...damn I'm a nasty motherfucker...lol
_______________________________________

Want to know 10 things about Women? Goto http://mspsycho.wordpress.com/

I Want to End This Existence

2009-08-03T01:52:00.002-05:00

It’s one of those days where a person like me, wants to give in to all those voices that are failing to communicate in my head. I have no motivation to write, or finish writing one of the many stories I’ve started recently. My mind is completely unfocused, unable to concentrate on one thing long enough to complete the task. It’s like a toy ball thrown against the wall, bouncing around in a thousand different directions, then suddenly it comes to a stop and just lays there.

I don’t want to post any more crap about law enforcement officers fucking up their lives, on my other site What Happened to Protect and Serve? I don’t want to post any more fucked up stories about children being abused on my other site Crimes Against Our Children. I want to shut them down. I can’t handle the disappoint of mankind for another day. Cops, judges, teachers, coaches, ministers, mothers, fathers, etc... are continually breaking the law. Who the fuck are we suppose to trust? I can’t trust anybody. I have all these people who follow my blogs, but I just don’t care anymore.

I feel like my mind will never get a break.
So, I forfeit this fight for my family’s sake.
Evil eats me up alive, taking my soul.
Leaving me where I‘ll never feel whole.

Irrecoverable

2009-08-01T22:17:00.004-05:00

The 'Monkey' is on my back, steadily flipping me on the ear.

Walking Through a Wet Tunnel

2009-07-28T02:18:00.002-05:00

I want to do something insane like: robbing a bank; stealing everything from someone else’s house; breaking into a store and looting everything I see, even if its something I don’t really want or need, I just want to take it anyway, and try to make it mine.

I want to end my life by driving my car into a head on collision with some unknown victim, knowing I will be punishing them for some past crime that they committed. Maybe a good confrontation with law enforcement will send my senses in another direction. Maybe I'll go on a violent rampage.

I want to cut my arm in one hundred different places, just to watch the blood drip down from my arm, so I will know that I am alive. I want to run butt ass naked through the sprinklers in front of the fire department, fat fully exposed, boobs flapping in the wind, then be able to snap my fingers and disappear to another time and place.

I stare incoherently at the computer screen before me, suddenly realizing I’ve read the above paragraphs a dozen time trying to figure out its meaning. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I feel so lost. I can’t concentrate, and my body feels alien to me. I want this feeling to go away...NOW!

I feel highly sensitive to taste, smell, but mostly touch. I don’t want to feel anything on my skin. I feel the need to have the outer layers removed, discarded like old trash. New flesh, replacing the old and worn out.

I can feel: every foreign thread in my underwear; every single whisper of hair heavily brushing against the back of my neck; the breathing of air moving in and out of my nasal passageway. I feel the freshly washed white tee-shirt caressing my soft nipples; the blood flowing through my veins, in a steady rush to get somewhere.

I walk with eyes lowered, not wanting to see the flawed world around me. Dressing in black, to appear as a shadow, hoping the world for one day won’t see me.

I don’t want to be touched. It sets off too many emotions, feelings I don’t want to experience. It makes me feel ill today.

Should I listen to the voices and do as they instruct? I haven’t slept in over 37 hours and counting.

What more is expected of me? I’ve done all I can, and things seem to be only getting worse. When do they get better? Deep down inside, I know they don’t like me.

Lights...there are too many. It’s too bright outside, inside I want the lights down low.

Strong odors invade my entire being, clinging to every hair follicle.

Too much clutter! Things are out of place, just have too much stuff.

Can’t seem to unwind. Moods jumping and rapidly changing from minute to minute.

Want to leave all this stimuli behind. Got to leave, got to run, just need to get away from it all.

To Kill Again

2009-07-21T02:36:00.001-05:00

I was with him longer than any man I've ever been with, so I suppose he had to die. He wasn't the most talented man in the world, matter of fact all he could do was work a eight hour shift, and then come home and lay down. Never able to do any of the manly things that I thought a man should be able to do. Like being able to change the oil on the car, fix the leaky sink, repair the carpet, or even doing little chores around the house. He didn’t do anything of these things. If it was to be done, I had to do it all.

I have days where all I want to do is take my life, just to save myself from all this pain and misery. I yearn for a sense of purpose that will define my place in this world. But I yearn for too much. Hope and expectation cloud the mind before delivering bitter disappointment. It is a lesson I have been taught time and again. It is a lesson I keep having to re-learn.

I remember when I first met him. He was thick, but in shape with a nice muscle tone underneath, but I hated the fact that he acted like he knew it all. Still, it was easy to take advantage of him. All I had to do was show him the pussy and he would give me anything I wanted or desired.

I never really seemed to bond well with others when growing up, I mostly prefered to be alone. I would spend hours alone, thinking about ways to inflict a slow death on some small creature I had caught. At 12, I broke down, and told my father that I could kill somebody and not feel bad, he beat me with a belt and sent me on my way. Taught me to keep my mouth shut.

Now here I sit, past 40 years old in my own house, hidden deep in the woods, far from prying eyes, with another fresh corpse sitting next to me. I guess it was partly my fathers fault. Maybe if he hadn’t sexually, physically, or mentally abuse me throughout my life, my life might have went a different direction. Maybe it’s the voices that I hear in my head, that makes me commit these crimes. Or it might be the thrill, the adrenaline rush, the sexual turn-on, or the high that I get from killing. Whatever it is...I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.

Some people might think that I’m sick, a freak, a inhuman creature, or insane, but I don't. I don't feel that it's a normal thing, but I feel completely numb about what is happening. Mostly I enjoy the sense of power that comes from terrifying victims, and confusing the police. I always wanted to prove to myself that I was capable to taking another persons life, but only one thing kept me from carrying out this nasty deed for years when I was young, I didn't want to be locked up for the rest of my life, rotting away in some stinking jail cell. Whether I admit it or not, I do value freedom, but I have become smarter.

I wouldn't do anything really sick, like fuck a dead body, but the thought is still there. I thought about it a lot when I was little, and afterwards I would lay in bed and secretly masturbate. Maybe I am sick, maybe I‘m just willing to admit to my heinous thoughts. I'd like to believe that I'm like a lot of other people, but that's only a fantasy. I’ve even been told that I’m as normal as the girl next door, but the truth is ..... Well, no one knows the real me.

Everybody has the power in themselves to kill another. I remember sitting alone in the big barn behind our house when I was young, with a black cat in my arms, thinking I could take its head and crush it with one quick show of strength. Or I could throw it on the ground with all my might and stomp it to death. I suppose talking about killing an animal is wrong, but I can’t help thinking about the feeling of warm blood splashed across my skin.

Things weren't easy for us when I was growing up. We weren't rich, so most of the time I found myself going without, while others would be proudly showing off their trinkets, I stood alone in the background. We grew food in the garden in the summertime, and hunted down and killed any other food we might need to survive. There wasn’t much, but at least we had a roof over our head, (that leaked when it rained), and food to eat every night (even if it was the same food two nights or more in a row).

At 17, I was out on my own. I bought a car, got an apartment, and supported myself in my own way. I suppose others would feel a sense of accomplishment in having their own apartment, I didn't actually care. I never needed much space to live in, just a small kitchen, one bathroom, two bedrooms; one room to sleep in, and another to put my collection of souvenirs. I lived like this for years.

Then he came along. Sex with him was great. I couldn’t seem to get enough of what he was offering. He would hold doors open for me, enjoyed going out to a fancy restaurant, or just spending a quiet evening at home entertaining me. Eventually he moved in with me, and we then we moved to a bigger place. Things changed. I changed.

It's been said that people don't care anymore, but I tried. People just never gave me the same respect that I was giving. Were they too dumb to understand? So fucking stupid that they didn’t understand that when you treat people like dogs, eventually they become the meanest dog you’ve ever come across.

Sometimes, I don’t mind being treated like trash, but at times I want to be treated like princess.

Now, I enjoy lurking in the shadows, watching other people, madly laughing to myself, making people wonder what I’m going to do next. I get off on the pure joy of telling someone something so bizarre that it fucks with their mind.

I love being around certain people. But what I love more, is when the people like being with me. I was a social recluse for quite some time, now I can never get enough of people. Maybe this is what drove me to do what I did. Maybe not. Society is warped, I see it all the time, but I can't blame society for all my actions or re-actions.

When I'm tired, I can be very disrespectful. "Fuck off," is mild for me. Don't get me going, because once I start, I'm not going to stop until something really bad happens.

They never understand my moods. MOODS. What a strong word, more powerful than most. Perhaps it's the fact that I have different personalities at times, so there is always a different reason for what I do. Hell, I'm still trying to figure that one out myself.

I hate it when he yells and threatens my life, telling me I worthless and good for nothing. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him to leave, but he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stand there like a fool and argue. I face reality and realize I can find another person just like him. He just makes me so crazy that all I can think about is killing him, and burying his body in a deep hole in the backyard.

Sometimes I get in this weird mood where all I want to do is listen to sad, dreary and depressing songs. Not happy songs. He hates this, and only wants to listen to his favorite type of music, calling my music nothing but crap, and giving me this look of hatred when he turns mine off and turns his on.

You know the letter 'y' in the word 'happy' makes the word look happy. Happ. That looks better. Like someone was trying to say 'happy' and their throat was slit in the process.

I could easily break someone’s bones, because the sound of the snapping bones drive me over the edge and sends me into a frenzy of inflicting pain. I want to make them curl up in the corner, and beg for their life.

I could easily cut a person. Blood doesn't bother me like it does some people. I've sat for hours, putting scars on my legs, arms, and stomach with one of the many blades that I own. I suppose that I'm rambling again, but I'll be strong and not apologize for it, because then I'd be weak.

He yelled at me, and read me like a book. He saw right through my moods. Saw the inner me. I don’t like that. I don’t want people to know me like that. We’ve been together to long.

What is the problem? You really want to know? I just wanted him to shut up, and stop telling me what I did wrong, over and over again until I want to throw up. I‘m not a dumb ass, I know I fucked up.

Then later, when I’m still mad, I didn’t want him to make believe everything is okay, and then tie me down to the bed and fuck me with all his strength...well maybe that was okay. I just wanted a word or two about how ‘the house looks nice’, or ‘dinner was good’, ‘your hair looks nice’, ‘don’t worry, I’ll take care of things’, that’s what I want him to say at least once.

The gun barely made a sound when it went off. I had put on the latex gloves, and wrapped a pillow fully around the gun before I placed it against his left temple. I was expecting a much louder noise, and at first I worried that it didn‘t really go off, and he would wake up shouting at me to leave him the fuck alone. But then I saw the blood beginning to pour from his mouth and quickly soaking into the sheets. I knew he was dead.

The blood meant something. It meant it was over. I didn’t have to deal with the way he treated me, ever again. I could move on and find someone new, someone better, someone I wouldn’t want to kill.

It feels good to scream, loudly. I felt like a God, standing in my big house waving the gun around in the air. Maybe I went back to some primal instincts of kill or be killed. I took the first step. There are no tears. I feel nothing.

So, now I sit here writing this, and I’m beginning to realize what I’ve done to him. He was my life for the past 20 years, and I've just altered that way of life forever. His death will mean my freedom again if anyone finds his body. But he has no family, no close friends, he won‘t be missed for a very long time. It will be time enough for me to move on, to begin again what I started so many years ago. I can’t let anybody find out. It has brought back all the old memories of when I killed years ago. Once again I am free to go out and freely kill and fuck at will. Some people might not understand this, but it is a part of me.

After I buried his body in a deep hole in the backyard, I took a long hot shower, blow-dried and straightened my hair, and now I'm deciding how to finish this story.

If a murderer moved next door, would you know it just by looking at them? Could you tell from your interactions with a person, that they were capable of committing unspeakable acts against other human beings? Could someone you love and have regular contact with, be a serial killer without you suspecting a thing?

The room he was in, now smells different. It's not the usual smell of his body odor, or his cologne that I bought for him last year at Christmas. It smells strange, and I feel like I don’t belong here any more. I cut up the mattress and buried most of it with him, but the smell of dead blood lingers, like dust in the air after a storm.

A gallon of bleach and a bottle of pine-sol should do the trick. I like to be clean, I hate it when things are dirty. Everything has to have its own proper place, and it is a must that things smell nice. Smell is very important to a woman. But they wouldn't listen! I'd like to take their words and shove them down their throats.

I figure people kill themselves because they feel they have nothing to live for. Nothing. Their life was wasted early, and that affects them later. So, they sit in one place, and look at all the dirt and filth around them, never finding happiness until the day they die. Nobody cares for them, and they don’t care for anybody. That's the reason. Maybe. I know how they feel now. I know, I understand.

My life is wasted, but his death fixed that.

I kissed him lightly on the forehead before I dumped his body in the hole. It sent goose-bumps through me, and made me wonder if I had done the wrong thing. Was it time to begin my plan? It felt like the first time all over again. The adrenaline rush like I got from my first kill was back. I had quit so many years ago because I was no longer getting the thrill that I had received the first time I took a life.

Society is going to hate me as much as I hate them. But I’m going to do it anyway, and not anybody is going to know the truth. Even if there was somebody who KNEW how I was feeling, what I'm thinking, and what I did, I would still deny it. It's like a disease, and it's not stoppable. Afterwards, I will feel bad, but right now, I don't care anymore. I feel alive, like Dr Frankenstein’s monster.

Who gives a fuck anyway? I should die. I am a sinner, and no one can save me now. What I’ve done is sick, disgusting, immoral, and I should die for my crimes. If somebody else had done the same thing, I would not hesitate to kill them. But, I am me, and so I am above the laws? No, I should die, and die I will by the hands of another...someday. That almost sounds poetic. I always wanted to be a poet, or a writer, but I don’t have the talent. I could have, but people are always telling me how much better they are than me, and how I'll never be anybody. People with more talent, more ideas, more feelings...normal people. People I don’t like. People that need to die.

This next weekend might be a good time to start this planned thought. Planning is important part... I don't want to make a mistake. Maybe I'll wait until my court date and explode in a violent frenzy, and not stop until I take my last breath.

If there is a hell, then surely I'll be there,

laying in my bed of hot coals, staring aimlessly at the ceiling,

unable to sleep.

It's the Fucking Weekend!

2009-07-11T23:23:00.001-05:00

My court date for ‘failure to yield’ was Thursday in Glenpool. I had to reschedule because I feel like I’m in this (once again) fucked up mood, where I tend to be very ‘unpredictable’ as a cop once said about my re-actions to certain stressful situations. It’s true... When I’m feeling like this, I don’t always think very clearly, and quite often make major errors in my judgment. You know... Like taking a weapon with me to court (just to feel safe), making a loud outburst at the Judge or some other idiot, showing up extremely drunk, or just doing something people consider insane while in the courtroom.

The real problem with this is now I’m obsessing about what insane thoughts my mind might think about or even act on, so this raises my stress level to the point where I feel the need to do something to escape the feeling. It feels like I’m running in circles, just making myself dizzy. Maybe I’ll just cut myself real good before I go to court and each time I start thinking insane, psycho thoughts, I’ll just poke the wound. That should keep me focused.

In the end the goal is to be able to go home.

So, I rescheduled my court until August 6, which should give me a little time to get past these unwanted feelings and thoughts. I don’t know why I’m obsessing over this so much. I did the same thing with my Sand Springs court, and everything went fine. I showed them my current prescription bottle for the Phentermine and they dropped the charge. Still I had to pay the $25 dollar court cost. The best part was, I didn’t run into anybody (officer) that I might have a little problem with. Hopefully, that will be the same thing that happens at Glenpool court.

To any officer that might be reading this... If I know something about your personal life, I have no plans of posting about it on this site. Unless you break the law and get arrested... then everything I find out about you, I will post on my other site... WhatHappenedtoProtectandServe.blogspot.com. But anything to do with your home life, what you do in your off time, I could call less about. Explore your deepest fantasies, your wildest thoughts, or run amok...just don’t get caught in anything illegal.

Time to drink!

Happy 4th of July

2009-07-04T00:01:00.000-05:00

Lifeless Breeze

2009-06-30T23:27:00.004-05:00

Today has been dull. I did a little cleaning around the house, then cleaned out the pool, took a long swim, and then laid around doing nothing else.

I keep thinking of a thousand things to say when I’m in the shower, or in the pool cooling off, but then I get on the computer and my mind goes blank. I guess that’s what happens when you quit smoking weed. I stop again, only because I can’t afford any, so I might do a little drinking this weekend.

Thursday around noon, I’m going to Keystone Lake with a few friends and family. I don’t really need to get out in the sun any more, because I got a little sun brunt today, but it should still be fun anyway. Just got to wear some sun screen on my white ass...hehe. Lol.

I’ve been having crazy thoughts running all around in my little circles, trying to find a place called home. Don’t know if those kind of thoughts will ever cease. I went out driving the other night, around and around, until even I got bored. I’ve just got to find a new way to relax my mind.

That tingling on your cheek;
The itch on your scalp;
The goose bumps on your body;
The cold breeze around you;

Feel the tingle;
Scratch the itch;
Touch your skin;
Inhale the fresh air.

Ways to Annoy People ( and get even ).

2009-06-28T16:58:00.000-05:00

I’m thinking of every possible method of harassing, and annoying someone to the point of insanity.

Put Vaseline on their car door handles.
Write their name and phone number on a public bathroom wall.
When you are talking to them, stare back and forth at their eyebrows.
Sign up their e-mail address on spam websites.
Steal their pets and wrap them up in duct tape.
Sign them up with a music or video club, picking out the types you know they don’t like.
Send an anonymous love letter to their house, telling them you will by stopping by at midnight, but never show up.
Unscrew the light bulbs in their house just enough so they won’t work.
Place syringes around them or in their cars, and then car the cops.
If their pets really annoy you, kill them, then run them over and toss them by the side of road so they look like road kill.
When they are gone use their water to water your lawn.
Leave carrots on their doorstep at night.
Clog up their toilet.
Mumble when you speak to them.
Constantly remind them of bad times.
When doing something illegal, use their name.
Drop Alka-Seltzer into their fish tank.
Plant marijuana by the side of their house.
Go to a party, but give them the wrong directions.
Use lamp oil to kill their lawn in spots.
Tap needle size hole into a dozen eggs and sit them in the sun for a week...egg their house or put them under the seat in their car.
Place ad on Craigslist, selling their car for only $100 dollars.
Send out announcements to their family, saying they are having a wild sex party.
Turn on their oven when they aren’t looking.
Put Saran Wrap over their toilet seat.
Turn their car stereo up all the way before they go somewhere.
Follow them around smiling a lot.
Spread nasty rumors about them.
Make a fake pipe bomb and leave it on the street in front of their house.
Use a ice-pick and punch holes into their car tire.
Ask to use their phone, call 911 and put the phone down, then leave.
If you have cock roaches, catch some of them and release them at their house.
Put a condom fill with Mayo, in their mailbox.
Make several indoor sale signs with their address and place them around town, telling people just to come right in.
Put big chunks of broken glass under their car wheels.
Use their trashcan for all your garbage.
Break into their house while their gone and leave their refrigerator open.
Buy a piece of fish, leave in sun to two days, then put it in their car.
Get their credit card number and charge all you can to it in one day.
Put crayons on the dashboard of their car.
Put a small amount of soap in the end of their toothpaste.

Let’s Cut Our Wrist and Then Burn Down Something.

2009-06-25T23:47:00.004-05:00

I’m really fucking high right now, so if this comes off sounding crazier than usual, (or better than usual...hehe) you’ll understand why, but I had to get high. I haven’t been high for a long time now, mostly because I just can’t afford to buy any. It really hasn’t bothered me much not smoking, until the past week or so. I’ve been feeling jittery, nervous, agitated, or high-strung, as my last probation officer put it, from the moment I get up until the moment I force myself to lay down for a few hours of sleep.

I’ve had this feeling off and on over the years. When I was a teen and it would happen, I would often find myself locked up either in jail or in a nut house somewhere. That was one of the reasons I began smoking weed... To help calm me down and relax me from the agitated state that my mind often goes to for no reason. Fuck both of those places! Being locked up when I’m in this state of mind is usually never any good... I’m probably going to cut myself with the first sharp object I find or get into some altercation with those who have me incarcerated.

I’ve been trying everything short of cutting myself, or fucking with law enforcement, to bring myself out of this unsettling mood, and nothing seems to be working. So, when a friend from Tulsa called and asked me to stop by, I didn’t hesitate. I figure it’s better to be high than to commit a crime, injury myself, or do something else stupid.

I was met at the door with a 6-point beer and a hefty blunt, which I lit before I made it back to his bedroom. We sat on his bed, watching the news and discussing the latest information about Michael Jackson dieing. Half-way through the blunt, I began talking about some of my stress from the past week, and before I knew it, my stress was greatly diminished. Shit that I had been stressing over, suddenly didn’t feel like that big of deal any longer.

I FORGOT all my problems.. hehe.

A couple hours later, in possession of a limited amount of marijuana, (in case the stress returns), I cautiously made my way through Borg territory, and safely through the front door to my nicely chilled home. After relaxing for a little while, I managed to get some laundry done, and the house straightened to acceptable standards. Next, I called my little friend, and of course she told me to come right over.

The effects of the blunt still lightly lingered, so when we smoked a bowl, my high kicked right back in to a nice and relaxed state. If only this shit was legal there would probably be a lot less killing in this world. I mean, think about it... For me... If I’m high, I’m engrossed in other thoughts, I’m not angry or thinking about smashing in someone’s face.

If you don’t light up the darkness, you’ll always being living in the shadows.

Once Again, Hell is my Home

2009-06-24T02:14:00.000-05:00

Blame it on the heat, or my fucked up mind, but if I would have had my gun today, right now outside there would be several cars with their lights on. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I can’t stand being around certain people, without feeling the need to hurt them. I’ve gone on so many walks trying to gain a different perspective, which has helped some, anyway no one is dead yet. But now I’m having a lot of pain in my knees again, so long walks to relieve the stress will have to put on hold for a little while. For now, I guess it’s back to sitting on my ass, writing again and gaining back all the weight I’ve lost. FUCK!

I guess I will forever be the bad guy (girl).

Once again, hell is my home.

I am a poet of the body and soul;
Just trying to make my mind whole.

I got lost on the journey to find myself;
Like a forgotten book on a shelf.

The pleasures of heaven I write for temptation;
And the pains of hell are my private communication.

Vulgar and rude are prevalent to my writing;
This is why MsPsycho is so enticing.

A tempting snack specifically designed,
To help the mind leisurely unwind.

Push it hard, and run it deep;
Are wonderful words that help us sleep.

But don’t get to close to me,
Because all you’ll ever feel is misery.

There’s always a creature lurking in the distance,
Trying to end my miserable existence.

Let me feel the heat of your breath on my skin;
So I can feel alive once again.

Swirl your tongue around through my mouth,
Rinse it around and spit it out.

Cease my breathing and close my eyes,
So that I might once again unfurl my wings and learn to fly.

Just don’t let me get me;
For sometimes I just can’t see.

Life is a rollercoaster ride.... So ride that son-of-bitch until you puke!!
Go ahead... Piss me off... Blood looks stunning on white carpet!
Let’s cut our wrist and then burn down something.
Dreams come true, but so do nightmares.

Stalking Fun on My Other Blog... hehe

2009-06-17T01:46:00.003-05:00

For those who follow my other blog ... http://mspsycho.wordpress.com/ I have posted a new story titled Stalking Can Be Fun. Hope everyone enjoys!!!
XXX ... Warning Adult Stories... XXX

This story, like most all others on my site, is purely a work of fiction from a writers mind that is sometimes not always stable, but she stills enjoys a good naughty story. No harm to any actual person will every occur.
*****************************
She wasn’t following you, but I was. I was watching you as you drove down the highway, turning left and then back right. I see where you’re going. Into the store for a quick drink, and maybe a little chatting with the cute girl standing in line. Then a stop at the smoke shop for a pack of cigarettes to smoke during the times when you are bored out of your mind and waiting on some criminal to break the law. After all, you’ve got to use those shinny new cuffs for something.

Are you watching me? I’m watching you. Are you afraid of me? You might want to be.

Some people will tell that preparation is the key, and they are not totally wrong, still I prefer the spur of the moment decision in picking out a random officer to stalk. Then I’ll watch him for days, learning the times when he is at home, where he goes when he leaves, writing down all the important notes in my spiral bound notebook to study later. Personally, I don’t won’t a defenseless victim… That’s why I target law enforcement… I want someone who will try to fight back.

The most important factor in successful stalking is not getting so close that your target figures out you’re following them. If they figure out you’re following them, they will bolt like a scared little rabbit, ruining in future plans of torture to your victim.

Next follow them home. Once you’ve found out where he lives, you can easily monitor when he is at home and when he is working. Making it easy to find the right time to creep into his house and maybe remove a few personal items to keep as trophies, or just to touch and smell later. Since they are in law enforcement, doing something to draw them away from their house is a easy thing to accomplish.

Just make sure you study the layout of his house while there, that way when you return it won’t be a problem navigating your way around in the dark.

It’s also a lot of fun looking through his windows later… you watch him as he stands beside his bed and removes the keys hanging from the front of his belt, along with the extra set of cuffs hanging in the back. He slowly removes the belt from around his waist that holds his weapon on the right side of his body. He then removes his badge from over his heart and sets it gently on the table near his bed along with the pen he has used that day to write law breakers citations. He removes his radio and then unbuttons the front of his shirt, exposing the bullet proof vest underneath. Carefully he removes the straps and tosses the vest onto a chair sitting in the corner. He stands there in only a black tee-shirt and his pants with the many pockets, each filled with various items needed to fulfill his duty requirements.

I observe my target and establish his routine. I may even find him online so I can learn his habits, what he likes and doesn’t like. I want to know what he knows. Eat where he eats. I want to watch him each day and night as he finishes removing the last few articles of clothing from his body, exposing his fully nude body. Is it then that he feels the most vulnerable? Should I attack him then?

It was all too easy, I thought with a wide smile across my face. He had just gotten off duty and would probably be standing next to his bed getting ready to make love to his wife. As his wife watches him removing his uniform, I was busy cutting the main phone line into the house and then unlocking the side door leading into his garage. Walking silently into the dark garage, I find the door leading into the kitchen. There was no need for a light of any sort because I had been in his house many times before and easily knew where everything was located.

Suddenly there was a flash of a light being turned on, and the sound of a man’s voice broke through the quiet night air.

“Who’s there?” his deep voice shouted from the other side of the room.

I froze for a second, and then looked up to see it was my prey standing there in nothing but his boxers. For a man in his forties, he still looked really good and was in great psychical shape.
_____________________________
For the rest of the story visit: http://mspsycho.wordpress.com/

Don’t Annoy the Crazy Person

2009-06-06T01:42:00.002-05:00

Today I hate everything and everybody. People sometimes get on my nerves so bad, that I barely believe that I haven’t gone on a violent killing spree, ending the life of all the worthless, inconsiderate, stupid individuals that care only about themselves and what they can get from others. I’m not going to name names, because I have to deal with these people everyday, but if I do ever snap they are going to be the first ones I open fire on.

Things have been moving along pleasantly enough that I haven’t felt stressed or lost out of my mind since the car accident, until today. Not having enough money to get everyday things done, is my main concern. I often think about robbing a bank or something, but then my reason for robbing the bank would be lost when I have to go on the run. At times, that is the way I think I would like my life to end... Instead of death laying beside me on the couch or in my bed, I want him to push me off and walk with me for my last few breaths as I liberate enough funds for one last celebration. That’s just a psycho thought right?

I am once again having some medical issues that has to be addressed soon. Sometime tomorrow, I have to go the ER because my fucking, stupid insurance won’t pay for urgent care, and my retarded ass doctor’s office never called me back. I’m not going to go into that shit right now, besides this blog is not suppose to be about my daily life, but about the insane thoughts that float freely inside my head. I’m working on a new story, but I haven’t been able to focus on it much since I got a headache on Tuesday, and it still hasn’t gone away, no matter what I take for the pain.

Adios

If it makes you less sad I will die by your hands. You can tell me how vile I already know that I am.

Pain Drives Me

2009-05-19T01:34:00.002-05:00

Thoughts of suicide crossed my mind and sadly still lingers hours later. After the accident I can’t help but think if it wasn’t for me, my son would be better off. He would still have his car, I wouldn’t have to face going to court on yet another charge... Failure to yield. How many more times in my life must I be punished?

Most people who have suicidal tendencies, usually always have a suicide plan. A way out when all else fails. The finally option. I’ve had a plan since the first day I began thinking about taking my life at the young age of 12. Over the years, the plan has changed and become more sophisticated and thought out down to the final details of what should be done with my body. I don’t think I want to be buried the traditional way of a body being placed in a casket, instead I want to be cremated. I look at it this way, I don’t want others to ever have to bear the weight that I have carried throughout my life.

Sometimes it feels like each years that passes, my life only gets worse, and I can’t imagine living like this for 40 more years. I think about jumping in front of a semi-truck, swimming down to the bottom of the deepest water until there is no possible way to make it back to the top alive, taking too many pills, cutting a little too deep, etc. And as the finally resort, letting law enforcement do what I am a failure at doing, ending my years of misery.

But then suddenly out the blue things change, and you want to live. You have all these wonderful plans on how things are going to work out one day. All I have to do is distract myself long enough to climb out of the fucking mud. It’s not easy when the mud is clinging to every pore in my body, and there just doesn’t seem to be enough water in the world to wash it all away. Still, I keep trying, wishing there was an alternative to committing suicide, but at times I just can’t see one. I just have these wavering, mixed feelings about death, that I sometimes have a hard time understanding.

My court is tomorrow in Sand Springs, so I probably won’t be sleeping much tonight. I just hope everything rides along without any glitches...lol.

_______________________

Please, Please.... if you are having serious thoughts of suicide and need help, contact a friend, email me (fukitsacoldworld@yahoo.com), take a walk, or call one of the numbers below, before you do anything. I've lived with suicide thoughts for over 30 years, and so can you. You don't have to die. There are alternatives, other distractions, that will keep you from making a decision that you can't reverse.

Suicide hotlines to call for help:
If you or someone you care about is suicidal, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or the National Hopeline Network at 1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433).
These toll-free crisis hotlines offer 24-hour suicide prevention and support. Your call is free and confidential.

Totaled My Son's First Car

2009-05-17T01:44:00.002-05:00

When I was a teen living out on my own, I would occasionally drive after I had been drinking or doing drugs, and throughout the years, off and on, I would drive after I had a become legally impaired. But never once did I ever have an accident, not even a close call. I wish to believe no matter what, I’m a safe driver, even though my driving record doesn’t reflect that. Today was totally different... Or maybe more unexpected. I wasn’t drinking, doing drugs, smoking marijuana, or under the influence of anything, I was just momentarily distracted.

I was coming home from my oldest son graduation, proud that my son was able to accomplish what many of my friends and family haven’t been able to do. We were talking about what we were going to do for the rest of the evening after we got home, and some future plans. We were within a couple miles from the house, heading down highway 75, when I looked in the rearview mirror at someone behind me. When I looked back in front, the traffic had come to a complete stop. I hit my brakes and quickly looked to the other lane to see if I could get over, but there was a car in that lane, so I had no other choice but to hit the brakes harder and hope I would stop in time. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop in time.

It was like a bad dream. The airbags deployed, hitting me hard in the face, chest, and arms. I remember trying to stand, but I felt too much pain in my knees and the rest of my body, so I just sat there until help arrived. For some reason, there are parts of what happened that I have apparently blocked out, because I didn’t remember how I got my seatbelt off until someone told me they took it off. I also don’t recall the fire trucks and the police arriving on the scene.

The officers, ambulance personal, and everyone else who help were really nice. I probably should have went to the hospital and got checked out, but it’s my sons graduation, so I didn’t want to spend hours at the ER. Besides, I think I’m just going to be really sore for a few days. More parts of my body are starting to hurt as time passes. The bruises look really bad and I hurt across most of my body, but the thing that hurts the most is knowing that I destroyed my son’s first car. I’m not sure If I’ll ever forgive myself for that. I was really thankful that everyone else in the car with me was okay, and the young guys that I hit were fine.

It’s almost 2 am, so I better try to lay down and get a little sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow I’m going to feel a lot worse.

Tonight, My Nightmares Feel Real

2009-05-12T23:59:00.001-05:00

I’ve had two dreams about going to court in Sand Springs. In the dream, I’m at the courthouse and just as I walk inside I hear the voice of the officer I talked to a few years ago from a pay phone, but I never see his face, I only hear his voice and the voice of other officers suddenly talking. I feel extreme panic and feel the need to escape so I turn to walk outside. When I step outside I meet face to face with badge bunnies husband and he just stares into my face. At that point, I realize I’m dreaming and force myself to wake up. I think I see his face because he is the only one that I have actually met, and I recently saw him while I was in Sand Springs.

The dream and appearing in court are both equally stressing me. I keep thinking about what the officer posted online at Coplouge a few years ago after I talked with him that day...

Quote: If you could spend a day with a board member who would it be?

I'd like a day with Thief...oh yes just one day...we'd work out some things.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~>:view19: Me taking care of Thief. Here thiefy, thiefy, thiefy!!

Guess I really pissed him off. This happened several years ago, so maybe he isn’t even around any more, and if he is, hopefully he has let it go. (yes, I fucking access your board Dunny...get over it... I was just looking for that quote from Baker.)

My court date was for tonight, so I’m glad I pushed it off until after my son graduates, just in case ‘Baker’ decides he still wants to ‘work out some things’. Regardless, I’m going to prepare myself... Put my plan in motion... Take a pill or two... And stay as calm as I possibly can. Maybe I’ll walk out without even seeing any of them.

Feeling Normal

2009-05-08T13:42:00.006-05:00

Click to Enlarge...
Flowers at Chandler Park

Right now, I feel .... stable. I'm not experiencing any highs or lows, no intrusive thoughts or weird reactions, just normal. Which is good, so I hope it will last.

I'm having a garage sell tomorrow, which is keeping me really busy. I have to make enough money to pay my gas bill, if not I'm going to have to do some 'fucked up shit' to make sure it doesn't get shut off. Don't really want to go there.

Think I'm going to take a break from being online for a few days and instead work on some writing I've been putting off for a long time. When my mood changes I'm sure I'll be back. It's just right now too many things are going on in my life. My oldest boy will be graduating from high school next Saturday, and my younger one will be out for the summer in just a couple weeks.

When my court date in Sand Springs gets closer, I'm sure I'll be stressing out and will want to write, so until then HOPE EVERYONE HAS A SEXY ASS DAY!!!

Change of Plans

2009-05-02T23:47:00.004-05:00

Yesterday sucked and today wasn't much better. I have no energy, all I want to do is eat, drink alcohol, and not expel any form of movement. I don't want to blink, exist, or even think about any of these things. I've been trying to force myself to write, but even that seems to take every ounce of my will.

Thursday, before this mood hit me, I called Sand Springs court and had my court date changed. The 12th of May was a bad timing since my oldest son is graduating on the 15th. I can't believe how fast time has passed. I was just glad it wasn't a problem putting the date off. The lady told me the 26th of May at first, which would have been great, except that's when I changed my Friday's doctor appointment to (I canceled it because... I just didn't want to go).

Shit I hope this mood doesn't last long. If not, I'm going to have to start smoking weed again, or invest in a fucking liquor store. The only good part is I finally slept... 9 hours. Well, I'm bored. Everything seems to bore me. Guess I'll go lay back down.

Stalking Can be Fun?

2009-04-30T00:56:00.006-05:00

I got stopped again yesterday. This time for ....hhmmm...following an officer...lol. Maybe I just freaked him out... hehe. I wasn’t trying too. I was just trying to kill a little time while I was waiting to pick up my son from school at 2:00. It was raining and I really didn’t want to go back to the house, get out the car, get wet, go in the house for 15 minutes, and then go back out in the rain to get in the car again, just so I could pick him up. Instead I decided to just drive around in my circles.

Unfortunately, that made me repeatedly run into the same officer over and over again. I really didn’t think he would stop me for following him anyway, because....well... It was raining out, and what officer would want to get out in the rain for something as silly as a person following them? Maybe I scare them a little. ...lol. Anyway, it gave me an idea for a new short story about stalking, so I’ll post it sometime this weekend.

And honestly, do you really think someone would admit to following an officer, if that officer stopped you and asked you outright, ‘were you following me?’ If I would have said, ‘yeah, I was bored and just following you around to see if you’re doing anything interesting’, I would probably still be trying to get out of jail for stalking.

SERIOUSLY!!!

I'm not stalking you.

I'm just sneaking a peek to make sure you're ok.

OH!!! By the way...Nice Pajamas....hehe

Can't Sleep...Clowns will Eat Me

2009-04-29T08:44:00.000-05:00

Depression: Anger without Enthusiasm

When You See My Face I Hope it Gives You Hell!!

2009-04-29T02:34:00.000-05:00

Right now, I’m drinking. Not only am I drinking, but I’m a little fucking drunk. Hey! It’s legal! I would drink some more, but I’m out, and I’m damn straight not rolling to the store for more. Plus, all I can get at this time of the day is the 3-point piss water. Nasty shit...bout time to make a trip to Kansas!!

Also, Officer Asshole would love to bust me for that one, and tonight would not be a good night for that type of encounter. I’m in this fucked up mood where I feel like I want to slice the heads off every stupid motherfucker I meet. I could cuss someone out in about 3 seconds flat, which would probably led to a tasering now days. I'm just in a pissed off at the world kind of mood.

Maybe it’s because I’m not sleeping much. I only got about 4 hours last night. I take forever to fall asleep, then I wake up early and can’t seem to close my eyes again. That’s mostly why I’m drinking tonight. I’m hoping the alcohol will help me sleep a little longer. If I do get up early, I’m just going to get out and maybe go for a long walk at some park...maybe Chandler again.

I’ve slowed up on taking the Phentermine, thinking maybe that’s what is making my insomnia worse, but I don’t think that’s the problem. I’ve gone through this in the past when I wasn’t taken the phentermine, still I have to try something to stop the increasingly louder ringing in the my ears that I experience when I haven‘t slept much.

I also did a little research and found out I’m experiencing what is called a Mixed state. It’s when symptoms of mania and depression meet and collide, which can be very dangerous the way I understand it all. I guess it is, because when I’m just depressed I don’t have the desire or energy to force myself out of bed long enough to bathe, let only have the energy to kill myself. All I do is eat and eat everything sweet, until I fall asleep. With the mania, I’m too busy doing a thousand things to sit still long enough to think about dieing. Roll the two together, and I could be in serious trouble. The mania gives me just enough energy to carry out the plans of my depressed mind.

I’ve been thinking about getting on some sort of medication again, but that means calling my OHCA insurance and finding out what doctor I can see; fight with them on the phone for 30 minutes or more, until I‘m ready to just cut my wrist instead. Then I have to call the doctors office, and hope like hell they are not crazy than me; make the appointment; for probably a month or more from now; (which by then I might feel different or I’ve already killed myself); force myself out of the house to go; sit in the waiting room for an hour at least; sit maybe 5 minutes before some motherfucker thinks he immediately knows my diagnosis; get on some fucked up pill that might make it all worse. It’s all guess work.

Okay, this shit is making me lose my buzz. Fuck all you motherfuckers who don’t like the way I am. Want to do something about it...then you call my insurance company, you set up the appointment, you come pick me up and make sure I arrive at every appointment, then you bring me back home and let me be. Yeah, that’s what I thought. You give a fuck as much as I do. I’ve got to get off here before I start letting my true feelings show.

Pain is delicious
Reminds me that I’m real.
Pain organizes me
Defines the boundaries of where I end
And the world begins.

Driving in Circles

2009-04-28T00:48:00.003-05:00

I've got to get out tomorrow and escape for at least a little while.

When you label somebody, you stop seeing them as a real person. And suddenly it’s okay to do all kinds of terrible things to them. Soon they stop seeing themselves as a real person and they just turn into that label. So what if I’m crazy, after 20 years of people treating me like I’m crazy, can you blame me?

I think I might have to do some drinking tomorrow night.

I Want Numb

2009-04-27T19:56:00.004-05:00

I stand along the bank of the Arkansas River,
Staring at the rolling waves as the cold,
sharp water slaps against the rocks and splashes on my shoes.
The clouds have grown thick and gray,
obscuring any hint of a bright warm sunny day.
Tiny demons ooze from my pores,
And I wince at the slightest whisper of wind against my skin.

I step into the freezing icy cold water.
Within minutes, my feet become completely numb,
until I can no longer feel my toes.
After 5 minutes of staring, debating...
I won’t notice the stinging cold any more.
It was as if my feet will completely creased to exist.

I want my mind to feel that way.

I step further into the piercing cold water
Until it completely covers my knees,
And I don’t stop until it comes half-way to the middle of my thighs.
The pain from the cold was intense,
But still not enough to awaken my mind.

I force myself to stand there until I feel nothing at all.
Suddenly the sky betrays me,
and begins sending tiny droplets of rain across my all ready damp cheeks.
I let the rain lash my face,
which stings like a whip across an open wound.

The water reaches my neck,
And I think, I don’t necessarily want to die,
I just want to escape my inner turmoil,
But I see no other way to leave the confusion behind.
I lose all sensation in my lower body,
And the tips of my fingers turn icy blue white.

I look to the sky,
but I can’t catch a long enough glimpse
of a clear blue sky to believe in anything but bad weather.
Should I stay tethered and wait out the storm?
After all, I just need something to make the sky blue again.
Just give me one good reason
And no, it doesn’t have to be a good one,
Any reason whatsoever to why I should stay alive.

If not, I will take one last breath,
and then submerge my mind until it becomes totally numb.

***********************

Sometimes stories don't end happy,

It's just enough that they end,

To make way for new stories.

NO SLEEP........... again

2009-04-26T01:07:00.002-05:00

FUCK I CAN'T SLEEP!!! I'VE SLEPT MAYBE 10 HOURS IN THE PAST 3 DAYS, AND IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE I'LL BE SLEEPING AGAIN TONIGHT!

FUCK!!!

PROM IS OVER....YEAH!!!!

If There Was a Line That One Must Not Cross, I Had Reached It

2009-04-21T08:47:00.004-05:00

It's 8:15am and since I slept hard last night after finally crashing, I'm up early, so I might as well finish my story....

If there was a line that one must not cross, I had reached it. The more involved my mania became, the quicker that line began to disappear, along with all my discretion and judgment.

I left the Doctors office around 3:30, cramping after the invasive painful procedure, but necessary according to the doctors. The pain, and the pills that I had taken, were doing nothing to slow down my manic mind that was running 10 times its normal speed. The day before I had tried smoking some marijuana to help calm me down, but when I’m that far out there, marijuana, pills, not even drinking Tequila relaxes me. It’s not even necessary for me to take the Phentermine on these days. I already have enough energy, and food just really doesn’t taste that great.

I really didn’t want to head home and have to think about sitting still, so instead of taking highway 75 exit from downtown Tulsa, back to my place, I drove towards Sand Springs to pick up something to eat for the first time that day. I purchased a six inch sub and a diet coke from a Subway near Wal-Mart, and then found a location not far away to park. I sat there trying to eat the tasteless meal, but all my mind could do was envision alternate endings to taking my life.

Recognition of my mania phase is one thing, but doing something about it is another story. When I’m manic my mind has a great many voices and none of them are ever silent. Each one speaking out of turn, interrupting each other with different thoughts and ideas. When I’m talking to other people, I assume these other personalities to fit whatever situation I’m in, which is sometimes good...sometimes not.

That day my voices debated about should I cut myself. Until one voice muddled it way to the surface and came in loud and clear. It shouted for everyone to just shut the fuck up and end this tortuous game that my mind was playing. A part of me knows that cutting will awaken my mind, but it can have many serious consequences. Still, at the moment, the voice that was telling me to cut myself, was the only voice I heard.

As I sat alone, parked in an almost empty field, watching cars drive by, I held a small knife blade to my left arm. My adrenaline began flowing as I thought about the relief that I would soon be feeling. At that moment, a friend called and I sat there for 10 to 15 minutes listening to her talk about what a bad day she was having. I listened, but absorbed very little of the conversation. As soon as she hung up, I went right back to what I was doing. I had to do something to bring me out of the manic phase. I knew if I didn’t do something soon, I would probably find myself locked up somewhere, and that just wasn’t an option.

I took a deep breath and looked up to make sure no one was around or looking in my direction. I immediately spotted a Sand Springs officer driving by, so I quickly hid the knife in my bra, and proceeded to leave the area. I didn’t want to explain to anyone in law enforcement what I was doing. Plus, just two days before, on Tuesday, I was driving around and around in my circles, trying to kill time while I waited on a friend to finish her DUI Classes at the Tulsa fire training center, when I ran into a Sand Springs officer that I met years ago, and knew him from being online at CopLounge. He looked me dead in the face, but I’m still not sure if he recognized me. Since he was working that shift on Tuesday, my mind ran through various images of his face, worried that it was him who was turning around and coming back my direction. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

I nervously pulled out of my parking spot, hoping the officer wasn’t really paying any attention to me, but I was wrong. He quickly swung through the parking area and got right behind me. Adrenaline poured through my chest, and my heart began pumping double its volume of blood.

I could see the officer quickly getting right behind me as he was talking on his radio. He was calling in the tag number, and of course I knew it was going to come back to a friend whose drivers license was still suspended. At the next light, I turned left and he turned on those colorful pretty lights, that would be beautiful, if they weren’t concealing someone who might be completely indifferent to my diagnosis.

When I’m manic there is nothing like having a law enforcement officer near me to embolden a manic mood. I was running a hundred scenarios through my head about what I was going to say to the officer, and I knew when I was surging this much, there was no telling what I would say.

I took a deep breath, opened my window and waited for him to ask for my drivers license and insurance, which I handed over. He asked me what I was doing in the area where I was parked, and I quickly told him I was just making a phone call. After a few more questions, he want back to the patrol car and I could see him calling in my drivers license. I nervously sat waiting, when I looked in the mirror and noticed he was looking down the road for another officer to arrive. That's never a good sign.

It was time to assume another personality. You know the one...the one where everything is fine and this is all just a big misunderstanding. I spoke with the younger officer while the first officer searched my car. When I’m manic and experiencing OCD at the same time, it makes it hard to let others touch my things, or to keep from talking. No one but another manic person could possible understand the agony of enforced silence. I had to finally bite the inside of my mouth to keep from saying too much. Still, I felt like I had given out more information than was necessary.

When the search was complete, I was informed that I was in possession of a Class 4 Drug... the phentermine that I’ve been taking for about 4 months now. I was informed that I could be arrested since I didn’t have them in a prescription bottle, but the officer was nice considering my past drug history and arrest, that he didn't place the cuffs on me, instead he just gave me ticket. For which I was truly thankful. The only part that really sucks is I have to show up in court. I quickly asked if I could bring the prescription in at anytime, but the officer said the Judge required that I appear. Fuck!

Afterwards I drove away, fully relieved that I didn’t have to cut myself just to shock my brain into producing the right chemicals so I could feel normal again. The manic mood ended, leaving me just normal enough to function without much thought. I just hope the depression that I know usually follows, won’t be so bad this time.

Secretly Suicidal

2009-04-20T02:07:00.003-05:00

Mental Illness creates its own vibrant, colorful reality, which is so convincing sometimes, that it is hard to figure out exactly what is real and what is not.

Things have gotten harder to recall the older I get, because my memory seems to be a casualty of my manic depression. When I’m manic, all I remember is the moment, but when I’m depressed, all I remember is the pain. The surrounding details are lost. Hopefully telling my stories is what will keep me alive, even when death is in its most seductive pose.

People always mean well, but they don’t understand that when you’re seriously depressed suicidal ideation can be the only thing that keeps you alive. Just knowing that there’s a way out- even if it’s bloody, permanent - it makes the pain almost bearable for one more day.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had the urge to die. Death just sounds like a vacation to me. A place to escape the brutal emotional rollercoaster I'm riding alone. To be somewhere else at times, is what my mind craves. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I’m thrilled to tears to be alive and have what I have. Because I know there are many others who suffer far more than I do, yet continue their quest to live each day to the fullest. At times, I believe the world is wasted on me, and that, I think, is reason enough to die.

This past week I’ve felt like I had a monster living inside of me. I think I’ve been rapid recycling. For awhile I savored every smell, lingered over every sensation, and marveled at every creature comfort. But then the inevitable happens, my brain chemistry shifted and my mood plunged back down to despair. I believe I deserve to suffer, and crave the suffocation black nothingness.

Attempting suicide or serious cutting usually jump starts my brain chemistry. Problem is if I cut myself too deep, that means a trip to the ER, with lots of questions, so I won’t seek assistance. Years ago I was scolded by a doctor for being an ‘attention seeker’ and a nuisance. He was so unsympathetic that he refused to give me anesthesia while stitching up my self-inflicted wound. I was dismissed as someone who was wasting their time and I was not deserving of the same care as other injured people

It was never about the attention- I was just trying to relieve some of the emotional feelings, and I went too far. When I cut, I feel focused, appropriately punished, and a bit more in control of myself. I might even be smiling afterwards, because at that moment, I’m feeling more sane than I’ve ever been in my life. So, I will continue in secret. This wound I know how to heal.
________________

My manic phase got me in trouble again last week. It sent me around and around the corner at least 3 times the posted speed limit, and sooner or later I knew some cop would be waiting for me on the other side, eagerly jingling his handcuffs. Luckily I wasn't arrested, but I do have to make an appearance in Sand Springs Court. Since this post is getting long, I'll finish writing about it tomorrow.

I Did it Because...

2009-04-09T01:49:00.007-05:00

I need to sleep like a baby.
(Me at one month old)

I had to go out for a drive tonight. I've been stressing over not having enough money for anything. I want to steal, but I refuse to let myself. Instead I just drove...around and around. I don't have money for weed and I'm tired of drinking, so I have to do something to take my mind somewhere else.

Finally got my rush. Wasn't a big one, but enough that I should sleep tonight. Thank you Officer RR. Just wish you wouldn't have been the one, I'm almost getting use to you. Anyway, I at least talked a little this time, which my therapist says is good. Still, not sure about that.

However, when the second officer showed up, panic set in even before I knew who the officer was. I'm not sure if I'll ever get past that feeling. I just knew I had to leave right then...luckily I was 'free to go' this time.

Officer R mentioned briefly that he was personally affected by someone's marijuana use, and that was why he was so hard on users. In my opinion, different people handle it differently. Where it maybe a problem for some, for others it can be a lifesaver. For me, there have been times had I not decided to 'go smoke one' someone might have ended up dead. Marijuana calms me down and keeps me from going on a possible violent killing spree. At other times, it kept me from taking my life. I just don't think about death and dieing when I'm high. Maybe marijuana wasn't for the person he knows, but for someone else it could mean life or death.

Time to sleep...I've got somewhere to go tomorrow...hehe.

Standing on the Edge

2009-04-06T03:38:00.004-05:00

Insomnia Builds Character?

I've been trying to do anything I can think of to grab a sufficient rush, so I can have the crash later. I've also been doing several other activities to wear myself out, so maybe I'll get tired enough to sleep...

Here are some things I've done in the past 6 hours...

Cleaned my house...

Took a long walk...

Worked out with some hand weights...

Went to the casino...

Went shopping...

Stole a few things while people were watching...then put the stuff back on the shelf somewhere else in the store...

Went speeding around town...

Had a few drinks...

Called a friend...

Had a good quickie...

Had a few more drinks...

Went into Q-Trip while 3 cops were inside...while a little drunk...

Went to the neighbors house...

Had another drink...

Did some writing....

Wrote my brother in prison...

Cleaned some more...

Surfed the web...

Looked at porn...

hehehe...

Wrote this post...

STILL CAN"T SLEEP!!!

I Know What You Do

2009-04-05T02:07:00.001-05:00

I know you touch yourself when you read my words. You race through the sentences quickly at first, skimming, searching for the point that will make you sigh. You languish in that place. Your thoughts wrapping themselves around the picture I have painted, just as your fingers wrap around your sex.

I know there are certain words that are a jolt to your gut. Dirty little spunk words that trip off the tongue. Words like wet and cunt, mouth and cum, ass and take. But it's the phrases that spill from my lips that make you ache with lust. That make you want. "Cum for me baby", begged with eager eyes. "Give it to me harder", pleaded urgently. "Fuck my ass lover", said as I look over my shoulder at you with big all-seeing eyes. Those are the things that make you reach down between your legs and touch that throb.

I know you close your eyes and imagine yourself there. Your fingertips gliding over and around all of my secret places. My wet and eager mouth on you, working you into a lather. How heavy my hair feels in your hands. What my pussy must taste like on your tongue. Picturing all of these naughty things, these sights and these sounds makes you crave that release.

I know you have me on all fours, and on my knees. I know you have me in your lap grinding, and head to toe lapping at each other. I know we make love under clouds of covers, and fuck bent over the hood of a parked car. I know sometimes it is just you and I, and other times it is a tangle of others with us. I know sometimes it is slow and sweet, and other times it is rough and raunchy. I know it's always a pleasure.

I know what you do.

For all the reasons Why

2009-04-04T20:44:00.003-05:00

(Saw this on the back of a tee-shirt...hehe)

Let's Drink

It eases the pain for at least a little while,
And helps bring smile.

I also drink because I can’t fly.
If only they would leave me alone I would be high.

I think I’ll drink till I hit the floor,
Then rise up and drink some more.

Don’t want to feel the weight of time,
So pour me another tequila with lime.

I’ll drink myself to sleep,
Then I won’t cut myself so deep.

I don’t have to think about why,
I always feel like I want to die.

I drink because a black hole at the center of our galaxy means certain death within two billion years.

Last reason to why I’m drinking...because I fucking like it!!!

Whatever the reason for my uncompromising inebriety, it’s nearly closing time here. And as I stagger home pondering my cirrhotic fate, I’m sure inebriation will conjure a few more causes for my present condition. So think of me tonight, under spinning ceiling and dancing walls, and raise a glass to me. Cheers.

I’m a fun drunk, as long as you don’t piss me off.

I’m Going to Cry a River, Just so I Can Drown in it

2009-03-29T03:36:00.001-05:00

While hibernating, I had a re-occurring dream that is very disturbing, and brought back all my old fears and anxieties. I haven’t had the dream in a long time, and each one that I do have, tends to be a little different, yet still mostly the same theme. I’ve never told anyone the dreams, mostly because of the shame I feel. Posting it here online, allows me to get it out of my mind, and knowing someone has read about it, makes it a little easier to deal with. Yet, I can’t talk about it to my best friend, or closest relative. It’s like a lot of things in my life, I write about it on this blog, but those closest around me, will never know these thoughts.

I was taking a shower, and my father came into the bathroom, (just like he did when I was 19), but instead of me screaming at him telling him to leave, in the dream he overpowered me and then he raped me while standing in the tub. Looking out the window in the bathroom as he committed the act, I saw very dark ominous clouds and the beginning of a heavy downpour of large drops of rain. As he finished the horrid act, outside, just below the bathroom window, I saw a woman’s corpse rise up out of the muddy ground. Fear overtook my mind and I tried to scream.

I woke to the dark, empty stillness of my bedroom, with my heart racing wildly in my chest. I felt sick to my stomach, and was disgusted that he was able to violate me still, by being in my dreams. All day I’ve tried to shake the relentless, taunting dream, but it continues to haunt my every thought. The torturous intensity of the dream led me to do a little research online to the meaning behind the dream. Here’s a little what I found out:

Dreaming of being raped, suggests that you are feeling violated in some way or being taken advantage of. You feel that someone or something is being forced upon you.

Something or someone is jeopardizing your self-esteem and emotional well-being. Dreams of rape are also common for those who were actually raped in their waking life.

To dream that you have been raped, indicates vengeful feelings toward the opposite sex. Having this experience in a dream has nothing to do with sex, as is true in real life.

If you were a rape victim, the traumatic nature of this experience may cause you to have a dream like this from time to time.

Dark clouds and a heavy downpour indicate feelings of isolation and helplessness.
Seeing a corpse-- Desire to keep something hidden.

And finally, what do they suggest?... Seeking help if the dream continues to re-occur. I’m not sure I want to go to sleep and find out if I’m going to dream about him again. Think I’ll just stay awake a little longer. Besides, how is someone going to stop my dreams from happening?

I still can’t confess about a lot of things in my life, because admitting them makes it that much more real.

I Don’t feel REAL!!!

2009-03-26T20:59:00.006-05:00

Miserable or in a state of torpor...that’s the best way to describe me right now. But I at least feel a little more ...inside my body now. For the past several days I’ve been feeling lost off in some far away land. I see, and hear things going on around me, but I don’t absorb anything. It’s like walking around in a dream lost in a forest. I feel completely disconnected from my body, and reality just doesn’t feel like the right place to be now.

Unreality has become my refuge. I don’t exist.

There’s a wilderness lose in my mind right now....don’t cut...don’t steal...don’t drink...don’t smoke...don‘t gamble...don‘t fuck so much...don’t drive too fast... ...don’t...don’t.... DAMN! I’ll be glad when these days pass.

And as the dial hits 100mph
and the base line is pumping through my body
Nothing else matters
I am free.

I think it may be my borderline personality disorder coming to the surface. I haven’t experienced it this bad in several months. I just feel so ‘out of it’, and later I don’t remember things I do or say. A psychiatrist once told me it was called dissociation. Basically I feel like I’m observing my body from the outside. Things look strange, unreal, or unfamiliar.

Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.
--Alert Camus

It’s only a dream. It's only a dream...

See ya when I wake up in a few days.

Deep Below

2009-03-23T03:33:00.000-05:00

I’ve decided I have to go somewhere by the river,
Far away, on my own.
I crave to be enveloped in the calmness of the green waters,
So much that it makes me want to cry.

With passionate suffering,
I have never known an urge so overpowering,
Reaching into my heart with every breath.

I imagine standing on the beautiful empty shore;
Walking across rocks into deep welcoming pools;
Descending into the soothing water,
The vast river in front of me.

I feel the cool water flow over my head,
As I sink down into its depth.
The sensation hugging my body.

The river swallowing me with its empathetic weight;
Away from everything;
I lay in the quiet, just floating like a dead body;
A weightless mind shimmers on the edge of a dream.

Transforming and becoming;
Living, Ending;
Tears merging with the flow of the tide.

My body flutters;
I sink to the bottom;
Eyes blinking at blurred orbs of light;
Death waits no more.

This is as Normal as I Get

2009-03-21T02:03:00.007-05:00

A person sent me an email the other day after they spent a little time on my site, and asked why I wasn’t currently taking medication for my bipolar disorder. He also said maybe I should be willing to try some of the newer meds that are out there. The thing is, I have tried many of the anti-psychotics out there. Too many to name each one.

All that I have tried over the years, leave me with some type of fucked up side effect, that is worse than living with the wild rides.

Here are what some of the atypical anti-psychotics can cause:

Metabolic Syndrome, increased risk for cardiovascular disease
Major Weight Gain (we're talking 50+ pounds in a fairly short time here)
Akasthisia (uncontrolled restlessness--feeling like you're jumping out of your skin)
Tardive Dyskinesia (irreversible, involuntary, dyskinetic movements)
Neuroleptic Malignant Syndrome (potentially fatal inability of body to regulate core temperature)
Diabetes
Loss of sexual orgasm.

Seroquel (another atypical) induced diabetes, massive weight gain (>100lbs) and metabolic syndrome in me. Abilify caused akasthisia and eye twitching.

And this is just a few of the problems I experienced while using these drugs. Now on the other hand, there is marijuana. Marijuana causes you to have the munchies, but other than that, there are no other fucked up side effects to worry about. When I’m having a really bad day dealing with my bi-polar disorder I want to smoke. And I don’t have to worry about involuntary body movements, or gaining 100 more fucking pounds. Their ‘wonderful’ drugs caused more problems than any street drug I have ever used. That’s why in the past 6 years I have refused their way to ‘cure’ me. I chose not to feel normal, if that is the price I have to pay. I’ll just smoke, and try to feel as close to normal as I can get.

This is what works for me. Some might still find peace in using the anti-psychotics, it is just not my choice. Use what works for you.