Wednesday, April 29, 2009

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



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.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Driving in Circles


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.

Monday, April 27, 2009

I Want Numb


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.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

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

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!!!!

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

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


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.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Secretly Suicidal

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.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

I Did it Because...

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.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Standing on the Edge




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!!!




Sunday, April 05, 2009

I Know What You Do

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.

Saturday, April 04, 2009

For all the reasons Why

(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.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

I’m Going to Cry a River, Just so I Can Drown in it


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.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

I Don’t feel REAL!!!


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.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Deep Below

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.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

This is as Normal as I Get

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.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Get the Fuck away from here

Tomorrow I'm taking the boys to River City Park again. They had so much fun the other day that I've decided to let them spend another day enjoying the last day of their Spring Break there. It gives me a chance to relax and clear my mind. I've got too many thoughts running around in there.

I'm ashamed to admitt it...and I'll probably regret posting about it...but I've been fighting the urge to cut myself again. Instead, I've been doing other dumb ass shit to wake up my mind. I hate it when I go there. I've got enough fucking scars!! And I damn straight don't want to spend any time in jail.

Don't want to think about crazy shit!!
Let me instead dull my mind,
without the worry of being found out.


Few last thoughts...


I am battered and bruised.
Tore up.
I'm limping along, licking my wounds.
Putting myself back together
And smoothing down the frayed ends.
Taking stock and inventory,
accessing the damage.
Mentally reprimanding myself
for always needing the rush
of going beyond what's expected.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Why do you make me bleed?

Come here and physically drag me out of this horror and the tragedy to come, if you can. I need to be pushed down on my knees and have the gun held to my head. Otherwise I’ll just stay here - entirely passive, too tired to be aggressive - and continue to just sit, letting my life rot away on my king sized bed, within my comfortable walls shrouded in total darkness. The flickering images of fear, terror, desperation and destruction is beamed onto my face, yet I’ll still feel nothing.

I’m not proud to be crunching absentmindedly on nachos and washing away the feelings by slurping from this sweet and bitter bottle of soco & lime. My stomach feels sickened by drinking so much. Will you kiss it and make things all better? Will you do something to make the pain go away? Maybe warm words will suffice. Will you tell me that you’re sorry for my suffering?

I’m appalled. Disturbed. Shocked. Angered. So don’t expect me to move or be moved. Don’t count on me to do anything beyond letting my jaw drop open slightly and my eyes to widen. Instead, I’ll attempt to absolve myself from my crimes. If we ever meet in some alternative reality where the world has been molded into the long awaited melting pot of peace and love, I’ll ask you whether you’ll be able to forgive me.

Will you pardon me for the fact that I couldn’t even be bothered to walk by or come over and kick you in the stomach? But instead I simply sat, stared, munched, and drank? I nurse a mind that’s entirely blank. As blank as this screen will be, when I press standby and switch myself off.

Is that the time? It’s long past the hour for untroubled sleep.

Friday, March 13, 2009

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain

Today has been one fucked up day. It’s the middle of March and we had snow and sleet. Guess I should be use to it, since I live in Oklahoma, but it just throws a bone in your throat sideways. Instead of going shopping in the cold mess, I stayed home and did nothing but catch up on some reading. For the most part, my day was totally uneventful...completely boring to be more precise.

I wouldn’t even be writing anything if it wasn’t for the little incident that happened around 6pm. I was doing a little cleaning up, dusting, changing the sheets on my bed, straighten things up...you know the usually stuff. I placed all my pillows onto the floor near my nightstand, that had a lit candle sitting on top. I checked and thought it was all clear, but a corner of one pillow got to close to the flame and quickly ignited. I was in the hallway getting out clean pillowcases and sheets, when I smelled something burning. I quickly followed the smell into my bedroom and saw the pillow on fire.

Thinking as quick as I could, I grab the flaming pillow and rush it to my bathroom. As I’m carrying it towards the bathroom, parts of the inside of the pillow (I made them a few years ago, using old seat cushions, and cutting them into small ½ inch squares) start falling everywhere. Small balls of fire are spread all across my bed, my dresser, the floor...and I’m freaking out. I start screaming FIRE!! at the top of my lungs until my son and friend comes running into my bedroom.

They grab buckets of water, stomp it with their feet and hands, but the flames are spreading everywhere. I see my purse catching on fire, and yell to my friend to grab my purse. He reaches for it real quick and throws it towards we, still on fire! I put it out and grab a few other things and put them out with my hands. I don’t know how but after about 10 minutes we finally get the fire under control without having to call the fire department.

Most of the damage was contained to the area around my bed. Still, it burnt all my mattresses on one side, burnt my camera case, 2 purses, a pair of house slippers, several writing notebooks, part of the wall is now black, and the carpet is destroyed in that area. Plus everything is now soaking wet. I guess I should feel lucky...with all my writing, books and other things in that area, it could have been a lot worse.

I’ve got burns on my right hand and a couple small spots on my face, but nothing serious. It probably fucked up my breathing worse than anything. I’m still coughing up black crap. It’ll take a few days to get everything cleaned up, and a few hundred dollars to take care of the damage. I’m still a little shaken up by seeing the flames so high. I’m probably going to be awake for most of the night, worrying about if it might try to re-light. Tomorrow has got to be a better day!!! Wait...it’s Friday the 13....maybe I should just stay home.

The only good thing about what happened, was the adrenaline rush I got...sure helps with this crazy ass depression. But I have a feeling it won’t last very long, and the crash will soon follow.


Dark demons in my dreams,
turn my laughter into screams.
What was good now is bad,
damn these demons get me mad.
I wish there was a way to fight,
but these demons come back every night.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

The Ride is Over

I’m moving out of the manic phase into the worst parts of my OCD, with a little extra depression thrown in there just to keep things interesting. Here is a site that explains my OCD better than I can.... http://westsuffolkpsych.homestead.com/Violent_Obsessions.html I think I’ve posted the link before...I don’t really remember. My problem is very similar, but with a slight twist, and I haven’t figured out a way to handle the ‘thoughts’ yet. I just don’t fucking understand why my mind and body has to respond in this way. I’m not doing anything different than I was just a few days ago, but it’s like overnight my moods all changed without warning. My hours of sleep have increased to 9 hours now, but I feel like I want to sleep even more. I’m forcing myself to get out of bed, forcing myself for the past 3 hours to write this down, forcing myself to push through feeling all these voices in the back of my head, run around to the front and out the opening in the front of my face. I have to force myself to be. FUCK!


Feeling closed off from the rest of the world.

Everyone has got to be looking at me like I’m crazy.
I’m trying not to listen to voices around me, but they are all talking so loud.

What really sucks is if the pattern stays the same, the manic feelings leave my body, next comes the OCD, and then for God only fucking knows why, the depression sets in for a long stay.

Hold onto something, this is going to be a bumpy ride.

Friday, March 06, 2009

My Day



Finally made it to Chandler Park today around 12:30 with a friend who had never been there, even though she has lived around Tulsa most of her life. We took several pictures, and then I drove the back way to the other park where my purse was taken.

On the way there, we saw a motorcycle accident near Q-Trip and the underpass. A guy ran his SUV into the back of the motorcycle, causing his bummper to really get fucked up. I was really shocked that no one got hurt.

We then drove through the park and I looked in a few trashcans, but I didn't have any luck finding my purse. There were only a couple things in my bag that I really would like to have back, some things I'll just replace, and the rest oh well... what can you do?

My friend and I both took several pictures at Chandler Park ...so I'll post a couple...just click on them if you want to see a larger view.


Thursday, March 05, 2009

I started out with nothing and still have most of it left


Wow! Its been a long day. I got up at 8:30am because my son calls and says he over slept and needs a ride to school. By the time I get back to my house, it’s past 9am, so I figure I might as well stay up, five hours of sleep is enough for the state I’m in right now. I shower, eat a Egg Mc Muffin, throw back some French vanilla coffee, pop a few pills and I’m out the door for the rest of the day.

I didn’t go to Chandler Park like I planned, instead I ran a few errands, and then went to the library to get a few books to inspire my thinking in a more positive way. Afterwards I spent time walking around at the parks in our small, everybody knows you busy, kind of town. I felt a little uncomfortable knowing Mr. RR was on duty. Asshole!! (Yeah I like you as much as you like me.) Anyway, I felt uncomfortable every time a car came near to where I was parked, so I never really got to relax, like I can when I go out of town. So, I think tomorrow I’ll go to Chandler Park for lunch and walk around for a little while. Maybe I can relax there.

One thing I didn’t do today, was go to court. No, I didn’t fuck off going, I just did some cock sucking and got enough money to pay the damn thing. $230 fucking dollars!!! ...and I’m not sure if has helped any to remind me to s l o w the hell down. When I’m manic I tend to do a lot of reckless things, mostly because I just don’t think. Or maybe my mind is over thinking. I usually have 5 or 6 voices talking in my head, so that makes it a little difficult to concentrate on one specific thing. It’s kinda funny. I’m always by myself, with no traffic around, when I tend to speed. If there are other cars around, I’m a lot more careful, guess that’s why I’ve never had a wreck since I first started driving.

After visiting all three of the bigger parks in town, I headed home, cooked a little dinner, and then headed out for a night at the Casino off of 81st and Riverside in Tulsa. A friend that owed me a little money for a favor or two, split what she had with me, and we spent the next several hours playing different games. I was smart enough this time that I cashed out each time I reached around $20 dollars, so in the end I brought home what she gave me...which was nice.

It’s now past 1am, and I’m still a little hyper, so much so that I feel like doing some touch-up painting on my kitchen cabinets again. I told myself to wait until this week-end, and instead write down my day. Pretty normal this time, at least. I think the key sometimes, is just to stay busy.

What is the meaning of life?
To be happy and useful, knowing that you lived every bit of it the way you wanted.

Here are some pictures that I took at the River Park yesterday...beautiful!!! I plan on going back again soon. Just click on any picture to enlarge it if you want.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

We are born naked, wet and hungry. Then things get worse.

Yesterday, I knew the weather was suppose to be nice for today, so I thought I would try to get up early enough to enjoy this enticing Wednesday...alone. To do this I had to go out of town, where hopefully nobody knows who I am, and just relax. I’ve been too manic for the past few days, so I decided it would be a good idea to take a long walk at one of the parks in the town I where I went, maybe do a little writing, take a few pictures, and then afterwards I could get some shopping done at Wal-Mart. Anything to get rid of some of this excess energy.

The weather was little cloudy out, but the temperature was just right for me, not to cold or to hot, just perfect for a long walk. I sat in the car briefly, writing down a few thoughts that were running around in the back of my head. Then I put my writing in one purse, bag, that I carry...extra...things in, like writing material, and other personal items, that I don’t really want to mention. Then I took my main purse, the one with the money in it, and locked it in the trunk before I took off on my walk, leaving the other purse sitting in the passenger seat.

Like a dumb ass, I leave the car unlocked and take off walking, enjoying the walk along the river. I walked around for a little over an hour before returning to the car. The second I sit down in the car, I notice my purse is missing. At first, I just thought maybe I locked it in the trunk with my other purse, so I quickly got out to look. And of course, it wasn’t there, but luckily the one with money was still there.

I thought about calling the police, but whoever took it, didn’t get much, maybe a few dollars that I kept in a pocket. Most of the rest of the stuff was just personal items, that are rather embarrassing to admit that I was carrying. So, I choose not to call the police, and hopefully whoever took it, throws the purse away, so no one else comes across the contents.

Other than that, I had a great day. My knees are hurting a little bit, after the long walk, and the shopping in Wal-Mart, but nothing that a couple ibuprofen won’t take care of in a couple hours. Even though I had a bad experience, my fault though, I was caught slipping, I might go back again tomorrow for another walk. If I don’t go to the same park, I might go to Chandler Park this time. It’s a really nice park, that I haven’t been to since I hurt my knees a few years ago. I miss being able to do the rock jumping, and climbing, but my knees are so bad now, that one wrong turn and I would be fucked. I don’t even want to think about twisting my knee at the bottom of the cliffs and have to call 911for someone to come get my fat ass up out of there. We’ll just avoid that kind of activity for the rest of my life. At my age, even if I did get my knees repaired, I can’t see me being able to do that ever again.

Well, guess I’ve killed enough time, writing down my thoughts, like in a diary, but only instead of it being private, anyone who wishes can dwell into my mind.

I write for the same reason I breathe;
Because if I didn't, I would die.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Can I Swim in the Ocean While I Write Poetry?

It’s past 3am and I still can’t seem to relax, so I’ll turn to the only thing that seems to quiet my mind...writing. My mind has been having so many killer thoughts, that some of the stories running through my mind even frighten me a little. But I can’t slow down...I’m full of endless energy at the moment. It’s way better than that shithole depression cycle that I’ve been in, but that also means my mind has ten thousand things going on at the same time, making it almost impossible to finish one thing before I’m ready to do something else.

I averaged around 6 hours sleep yesterday, and around the same last night, and surprisingly I’m not sleepy at all. Today I got ready and did some spending at the grocery store, and spent more than what I should have, but I just felt the need to get things. It probably didn’t help out with this manic phase I’m going though, by drinking too much coffee this morning around 9am, skipping breakfast and lunch because I took a phentermine, low blood sugar, had an encounter with a highway patrol officer...nice conversation...lol, not much sleep, and then throw in the mania....WOW!!! Talk about high-strung.

I’m also thinking about my court date...it’s this fucking Thursday!!! Good thing I looked today, I thought it wasn’t until later in the month. I’ll probably wait until that day to decide if I’m going to court, or just pay the damn thing. It was my faulty ass brain, not thinking clearly, as the reason why I got the damn ticket.

It’s now way past 3 am and I’m still up flipping through the dictionary and surfing online to find the words that describes EXACTLY how I feel. Can I run away just to see if anyone cares? I just have all this unbridled mania and I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve tried finding things to occupy my mind and take me away from the intrusive thoughts, but nothing seems to be working tonight. It’s just sometimes I’m so afraid of failing that I don’t even want to try.

Enough psycho thoughts for the night, maybe I’ll go lay down and stare at the ceiling for the next few hours.

My mind occasionally drifts away into little fantasies of what life would be like had I pulled the trigger on him that day.

Scars are like tattoos...but with better stories.

It always rains the hardest, on the people who deserve the sun.

The stars will cry the blackest tears tonight.

I’m going to smile like nothings wrong.


Suicide is a cry for help ... a last ditch attempt to communicate from a private hell.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Nothing really to Say


Don't wanna say much...just bored.

"Live to the point of tears."
-Albert Camus

Alright, so I'm a manic depressive. What do you want from me?

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Fucking Speeding Again

I’m on my way back from shopping the other day, I looked at the time and realized how late I was running. It didn’t help that it was 6pm and I hadn’t ate yet that day, so my blood sugar was around 60. When it gets to this point I don’t often think clearly and will sometimes act as if I’m a little drunk.

I was almost to my house when I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to go to the ATM. Instead of turning around on my street, I sped up thinking I would pull a U-turn at the end of the street. Dumb!!! I honestly wasn’t paying attention to my speed, but the Boys in Blue were...fuckers!! The second I saw him I knew I was busted and he wasn’t going to let me go with a warning...still I tried...never hurts to at least try. I’ve just never had any luck with getting just a warning.

I guess I deserved the ticket....he said I was doing 66 in a 35...maybe I was...I really don’t know. Anyway it’s going to cost me $230 fucking dollars to pay the son-of-bitch!!! I’ve yet to decide if I’m going to court or just pay the damn thing. I really don’t have the money...unless I steal it...guess I could do that....maybe...maybe not...but it’s a thought to keep from appearing before the court.

My car was searched after the officer said he smelled marijuana, but I think it was probably the zigzag papers he saw in my billfold when I was giving him my drivers license. I know I hadn’t smoked anything in the car, but it is my sons car, and although I don’t believe he smokes marijuana, most of his friends do. I was just hoping like hell that didn’t find a little stem ___ this long (fuck you RR) to charge me with.

I had an interesting conversation with the an officer while the other one searched my car. But I don’t think I’m going to talk about that...I think I said something’s I probably shouldn’t have...Again that’s what happens when my blood sugar is low...I talk too damn much.

By the time they were done searching the car and me, my blood sugar had rose enough on it’s own. I find this often happens when I’m under stress, my blood sugar naturally goes higher. Which sometimes sucks, when it goes to high.

Enough of this dumb shit...I’m going to get some SoCo and Lime and throw back a few shots tonight.

No Fucking Sleeping


Fuck I can't sleep...I need a drink.

How Long Will it Take Before the Rain Stops?

For those of you who want to know....I finally posted a couple new stories on my sex site. http://mspsycho.wordpress.com/ Enjoy!!

_________________________


On another note....I went to Tony's funeral yesterday. Only 3 of us left from the gang showed up, everyone else except for his wife and mom were total strangers. I felt like none of them knew the real Tony. Not anyway the Tony I spent days with, hidding from the law after we committed a crime, drunk off our asses, high as hell, talking about life for hours after we did all these things. He always talked about when he died he wanted Pink Floyd played at his funeral, but that didn't happen. It was more of a funeral for his Mom. At least he did get to be cremated like he always wanted to be.

Enough of this before I start crying. I haven't cried yet, and I don't think I want to, even though this breaks my heart for his family.

After the services I couldn't help but not think about how much time I could possible have left in my life. It can't be much more. I already feel like I wasn't suppose to live this long. This is why I don't go to chruch, because the preacher is always talking about life beyond this life and how it's just right around the corner waiting to creep up on you like a cop trying to bust you for drugs. Life could end at any breath. I guess I just don't like the ideal of waiting around wondering when my last breath will come.

Rest in peace my good friend, you will be forever missed.
This one is for you my friend...

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Death of a Friend

I finally got the news that my friend, since 1984 died yesterday morning at the young age of 40. He left behind a loving wife, and two beautiful girls, that will forever be on my mind. His body is going to be cremated, which is what he always wanted to have done. I should find out Sunday when services will be held, but most likely it will be Monday or Tuesday evening. Right now his body is still in Kansas and arrangements haven’t been completed on how to bring him back across state line.

I hate funerals, especially when it’s one of the gang members I hung out with back then. There are 4 down now, (that I’m aware of) that didn’t make it to 41. I have to wonder what makes me so special that I get to live?

Gonna make this short...it’s Friday night and I’m going to have a few drinks or two or three. ....maybe more.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Hey, Is Anyone Up There?


Dear God,

What ever happened to people supposedly being equal in your all seeing eyes? I mean you could've warned me about the accident. You know, a simple "Look out T old friend," would've done the trick, and made me turn my head, just in time to make a neat side step out of harms way. But oh no, you didn't did you? Instead you let it happen to me. Probably stood by, just watching as things went from bad to worse.

Have you any idea how much pain I'm in? Do you even give a damn? You might understand how I have great doubts about you even being up there, and even further doubts about how I thought I’d found you to begin with.

So once again as I endure new levels of unwanted, pain, I grit my teeth, and ask myself once again, where are you? Yes you God, during my hour of greatest need? Is it all because you feel you have a more important agenda? A list of high priority cases, perhaps? And if this be so, then does this rightfully warrant your ignorance to my anguished cries? I mean let's face it God you've hardly ever answered a single prayer since that one time.

Perhaps indeed, my problems simply appear petty in the great scheme of things? Or is it simply a fact that my good karma credit has finally expired? Just tell me the cold hard truth. And God, I suppose that's why if I'd have had a choice as egg and sperm, I would never have asked to be been born into this world. But I guess that’s a little too late now.

Just no more bad shit! Please! You know God, I just wanted to find one person who understood. I'm still searching to this day.

To tell you the truth the only reason I've written to you, is so I could find at least one person who would stop my plan. So speak to me soon. Or else I might just be happy with wherever the devil may take me.

Trying Not to Hear What is Coming in so Loud

Today my emotions are all over the board. I’m going from being in a state of full blown mania, to a point of crashing down so low in the ground, that the best shovel in the world couldn’t help me dig my way out. The thing is, I knew it was coming, but I still couldn’t stop the wave. Memories from my fucked up past comes sweeping in like a F-5 tornado, swirling around, slamming pieces of debris in every direction. To calm myself, and maybe prevent more cutting, I’ve decided to return to writing again as a way to quiet my mind.

For those who do not wish to read about torture, cruel acts, or any other random acts of violence that my mind may think about in the next couple hours, then I suggest you leave this site.

I want revenge, plain and simple revenge.

My mind was obsessed with the possibilities of revenge.

I sat quietly alone in the car, looking in the direction of the place I knew he would have to appear...his job. It’s the easiest way to track a person. Find out where they work, then just follow them.

I finished smoking and flipped the remains out the window into the heavy breeze, spinning it around outside my car. I took notice of the rustling leaves that spiraled around in a circle near the curb. My eyes followed as a stray leaf broke free and wondered off in the direction of the police department. My eyes followed every twist and curve as it neared my target.

I could feel the blood rushing through my veins as the leaf came to a stop when an officer stepped outside. I smiled lightly, breathing in the essence of life that surrounded him, deep into my lungs.

I had been watching him for a long time, and fantasized many times about what I would do to him if I had the opportunity. I was looking at him like an object, not a life form like me, put a toy to be played with and used completely.

He was perfect with his short cut black hair, brown eyes, dimpled cheeks, and nice muscular built body. I was drawn towards him since the first day I saw him at the park. I felt it was fate that had brought us together and fate alone that would decide the outcome of our next meeting.

I watched him from Second and Broadway as he sat down in the his car and placed a seatbelt across his chest. I started my car as he began backing out, and then I watched him as he turned left at the light and drove right in front of me. I quickly dropped in behind him and began my pursuit, my body tingling with adrenaline.

I relentlessly followed behind him as he turned left on Main St and then right to W 2nd St. At the light he turned left to 97 going under the overpass and pulled into a Quik-Trip located on the corner in front of Wal-Mart. I followed behind him as he made his way inside. I could smell the sweet fragrance of his cologne as his body moved through the air directly in front of me. I inhaled it deeply, programming the smell permanently into my mind. We reached for a small drink cup at the same moment and our hands briefly touched, sending shock waves of adrenaline throughout my body. Was it destiny or fate?

It wasn’t until we were getting into our cars and backing out that he looked directly at me, locking eyes for a longer than usually glance. I could tell that he thought I looked familiar, but he just couldn’t quite figure out who I was at that moment. Fear that I had been caught before I was ready, sent me in the opposite direction.

The next day, I waited until his shift was almost over before I began my pursuit of following him to his home. I drove past as I watched him pull his police cruiser into his driveway. I continued on straight, looking into my rearview mirror as he stepped his huge 6’3” body out of the small confines of the drivers seat. I turned around on the next block and drove back in front of his house looking for one last glance or the opportunity to put my plan in motion.

I knew he was married for the second time, and had a couple kids, but they were nothing but a momentary thought. After all, in the end they would be okay and be able move on with their lives. She knew the risk of being with a police officer when she first began sneaking around with him while he was still married to his first wife.

It was several hours into darkness on late February eve, when I got up enough nerve to park my car just a couple hundred feet from his front door. I stepped outside, feeling the heartbeat of the earth beneath my feet. Power was flowing into me as I was drawn nearer to his essence, his life force. I could smell the coolness of the earth as I stood near a window and peered with contempt of danger. I smiled slowly as I stood near the window and reached out to run my fingertips lightly over the glassy surface. My fingertips tingled with the feeling of life under them, my body reacting to the powerful flow of adrenaline, I reached down the front of my jeans with my left hand and cupped my moist mound.

I could see him standing in the middle of the room, talking on the phone as I silently watched his lips moving to words I could not understand. His graceful movements subdue my own shaky nerves as I watch him remove his shirt. His stomach muscles were not taught but rather pudgy, as if he has enjoyed a few too many beers in his lifetime. I find it sexy for men around 40 to have this kind of look, and it sent shivers down my spine.

My left index finger separated my damp opening and began massaging in clockwise direction. I giggled lightly thinking about how I would look like a fool if someone were to pass by and see me standing there. At the moment I didn’t care, I was more into the fantasy of what I could be doing to his body after I forced him at gunpoint into the back seat of my SVU.

I would handcuff his wrists behind his back, (using his own set of cuffs of course), gag him with a thick washcloth, and then place a black hood over his face. I would then take my helpless, whimpering victim to a cabin deep in the woods, where no sound could be heard for miles.

Inside the cabin I pull off the hood and remove the gag from his mouth. After all, there is no need to fear anyone being able to hear the screams so far out in the country.

He looks around confused and disoriented, but quickly recovers and tries rushing his handcuffed body in my direction. I’m quickly able to knock him off his feet and send him falling to the floor with a loud thump.

I maneuver over his body and sit across his mid-section, “You’re fucked my friend!” I say with a little giggle. Then I slap him viciously across the face, leaving a dark red handprint across his right cheek. With a savage grin on my face, I begin punching him in the face, chest and belly, forcing him the wince in a little pain.

He was big and powerful, but my blows took some of the fight out of him. Keeping him handcuffed I cut free his shirt, pulled down his jeans, and then removed his boxers, leaving him fully exposed to my fists. I worked him over until my knuckles began to bleed and the blood from his face began to mix with mine.

When he beg me to stop, I stepped back and began to admire the nakedness of my victim. He looked luscious, with his limp cock laying to the side of his leg. I couldn’t stop myself from taking him fully into my mouth. Nature took over and after several minutes his cock began to grow. I wanted to jam his big cock deep down my throat, but first I wanted him to feel pain. There would be no more pleasure for him that day.

I walked across the old creaky floor and stood before my victim. I pulled a large hunting knife out and touched the tip to his chest.

“You will call me Tayla,” I whispered softly. “And you will treat people like me with respect from now on. Do you fucking understand?”

He nodded, and said he was sorry.

“You know I could easily kill you,” I said to him. “No one knows where we are.”

“No, please, no,” I have a family he pleaded.

“No - what - you pig? I said pressing the tip of the knife into his firm chest muscle near his heart.

His eyes opened wide at the sensation of the cold blade pressing into his flesh, bringing a small amount of blood oozing to the surface.

“I’m sorry Tayla. Please don’t kill me,” he begged.

“That’s it. Be a nice officer. Not some asshole cunt, that thinks he’s better than the rest of the world.”

“Okay Tayla, just take the knife away from my chest.”

I moved the knife away from his new wound, but held it firmly in my hand. “You don’t remember me, do you asshole?” I asked gripping the knife a little tighter in my hand.

“No Tayla, I don’t...”

“Of course you don’t,” I said placing the knife back against his skin. “Pretty little pigs like you look right past people like me. I’m not pretty enough, smart enough, or thin enough for you. You treat me as if I’m a nobody. A worthless piece of shit that should only be taken out back and shot. You think you’re too good to follow the same rules that I have to follow. I’m nothing to you but dirt under your fingernail that you can’t get rid of.”

I stuck the knife into his chest deep enough to make him let out a loud ear piercing scream. I continued to stare into his eyes at his pain, until his eyes locked with mine, then I had to look away. Even handcuffed, he had power over me, and I wanted to take that power away from him.

“You’re nothing but a fucking piece of shit, you asshole,” I screamed at him and began slamming my fist into his body. While he shrieked in agony, I thought about taking the knife and driving it deep into his belly and splitting him open. “I want you to remember me, and everything that has happened today, so that you will never forget what trauma does to a person. They are never normal again. You can’t just forget and move on. Every time you think you’re okay, someone could be lurking around some corner ready to do you harm. It never fucking goes away!!" I screamed loudly.

I took a deep breathe and looked long into his eyes. I knew I didn't want to kill him, but I did want him to feel pain. I put my hands around his neck and began squeezing him enough that it was uncomfortable. I leaned down and whispered into his ear, "I’m not going to kill you this time, but I’ll be watching you."


My thoughts were running wild as I stood rubbing my wet cunt outside his house, thinking about my fantasy to kidnap the officer. I wanted to watch him struggle to breathe. The thought sent me over the edge and my insides began to erupt. Hot warm juices began to flow. I pulled out my fingers and licked the sweetness from my fingertips. I was out of breath, but returning to sanity when lights from a car turned down the street.

The coolness of the night air felt like ocean waves caressing my body. I felt alive! I quickly retreated to my car, and continue my quest to find another officer to kidnap for my ultimate fantasy.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Tomorrow A Good Friend Will Die

I’m drowning in my own pool of blood.

I see a razor sitting on the edge of the sink.
My mind goes into a spiral as I begin to think.
Maybe just one cut to ease the pain.
I promise to myself not to hit a vein.

I’m finally alone with my thoughts, and I find they are running around in several directions, but still running back to one thought. Will a friend, of 25 years, get a miracle tomorrow, or will he be taking his last breath? I fear that it will be the later. He has had no movement since he had a brain aneurysm back when we had the ice storm around January 27.

His wife called to let me know that he was suddenly dizzy, had blurred vision, and a intense headache. So they rushed him to the ER in Bartlesville, where they determined he needed to be life-flighted, but because of the severe ice storm in the area, the chopter couldn’t fly. Insted, he was rushed by ambulance to the only hospital that could handle the golf ball size bulging in his brain, which was in Wichita, Kansas. The trip took over an hour, allowing the aneurysm to grow to the size of a baseball. He never had a chance, even after the surgery.

I did a little research online and found out that a unbelievable one in 15 people in the US will develop a brain aneurysm during their lifetime. Many will die on the way to the hospital, and over 50 percent will die within the first thirty days after rupture. Those who do survive, about half suffer some permanent damage. This scares the hell out of me.

I can’t help but think it could possible be my turn, and I don‘t want that outcome for my life. I want to go out on my own terms...not some random hand from God’s sky, reaching down and taking my last breath without warning. I had been at his house just two weeks before, after he had begged me to come by and visit him. I felt obligated to go since I hadn’t been to see him and his family in two years or more. I wonder if he knew somehow? If he felt it coming and wanted to get together one last time?

Whatever led me to finally going, I’m glad I went. I got to see him with his dream. The one that Tony always wanted...to have a family of his own. He has two beautiful daughters, one typical 14-year-old from his wife’s first marriage, and a 9-year-old dark hair, brown eyed little girl, that looks so much like him. He was happy, even though they didn’t have much. I could tell when I visited that they all loved him very much. It was strange seeing them call him Daddy, but that’s what he was to them, no matter what kind of life he had lived in the past, he was their loving Daddy.

He was one of the gang members I hung around with, did drugs with, went to jail with ..more than once. He was two years younger than me!! And his life will probably be over in just a few more hours. He hasn’t woke up or responded at all to those around him. His wife said she was going to let the girls spend the weekend saying goodbye, and Monday morning they were removing his life support.

It’s after 2 am and I should get some sleep before the call comes. I hate those kind of calls. The older I get, the more frequently I receive the late night, or early morning calls. You never get use to them, and sometimes I just don’t know what to say to the person on the other end of the line. I wonder what people will say when my turn comes? ...Surprised that it hadn’t happened before now? I’ve lived a hard life, and like Tony, I feel I’m in the last Chapter of my book...the end is near.

I don't think I want to be here for the call...I may spend the day in Sand Springs driving around in little circles. Anything to ease the pain.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Suicide

I am stumbling,
struggling,
desperately trying not to fall,
but inside I'm crumbling,
wishing I could end it all...

I'm trying not to break apart
because of this ache in my battered heart,
trying so hard not to slip,
but I am losing my grip...

The chronic tears I am crying,
I can't stand being a prisoner to this pain,
my scarred soul is dying,
and out comes the razor to punish again...

I'm trying to hold on tight,
but I am losing my will to fight,
fading with the light,
dying with all my might...

I am just so broken,
in such horrible disrepair,
in these words I have spoken,
my utter despair...

I am trying not to lose sight,
of the last bit of life's light,
but I'm losing it tonight,
I am so far from being alright....

I'm dying so quickly inside,
I can't stop thinking suicide...

Friday, February 13, 2009

Death Angel

I once knew a lady named
Misery
she lived in a damaged world
she calls to me in transparent dreams

a lonely star
outside
the closed universe

she was my twisted soul

long ago
she experienced
the darkest of
pain

beauty was something
she could not
believe

I once knew an angel named
Evil
she traveled like a
ghost into the shadows

her heart was dying for some form of
life

all seems balanced
now
the angel burns to
die

Thursday, February 12, 2009

I'm fine...Its Everyone Else Who Is Insane

Thoughts of violence, chaos, confusion
Batter my brain, a constant intrusion.

I'm told I'm sick,
Who's opinion.......yours?

I've been labeled...by a doctor, of course.
Shit, I'll just consider the source.

They say, "Take the pills, they will make you sane."
I don’t understand what’s wrong with feeling pain.

The anger is building, this whole thing sucks.
I try to tell people, but I can tell they doesn’t really give a fuck.

Back on the street, alone once more
They've turned me into a medication whore.

Voices in my head beginning to grow.
What to do next? I don't know.

They say there's no cure, I may not get better.
I‘m just sick of my pillow getter wetter.

If I scream or jump or try to do myself in,
I get a police ride to the loony bin.

If you have an answer, tell me please,
Or this could be the end of me.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

My Covert Activities

OMG!! Guess people were right...I’m a fucking stalker...damn!!...one more fucking disorder to deal with. I think it maybe my OCD mixed with a little wicked depression that’s making me do some of the dumb-ass shit that I’ve been doing for the past couple weeks. I hope writing again will keep me from obsessing and ruminating so much.

One of the things that helps to clear my mind is driving, but I really can’t do a lot of driving around my town, because of law enforcement who know me. They see me doing my obsessive driving and they think I’m MUST be committing some sort of crime. BUT I”M NOT!!! I’m just running around in circles like a insane dog trying to catch it’s tail.

I’m not completely sure why I do it, but I love watching people. Since, I can’t do this in my hometown, I find myself spending more and more time in another town...watching, following, spying on people through some high-end night vision super-stalker 3000 binoculars. I like following people from work, to gas stations, to grocery stores, to their friends house, drive back in forth in front of their house a thousand time, watching...The possibilities are endless!!

My OCD means that ANYTHING I do, or have an interest in, I become OBSESSED with it until my brain shifts in another direction. Which some obsession of mine can sometimes takes weeks , months, or even years before they halt completely. Sometimes I can force my obsessive mind to stop this, by getting a heavy dose of adrenaline.

Yesterday, while I sat in my car, watching law enforcement come and go from their police station, I began to ponder what it would be like to follow one of them around and just observe their activities. After thinking long about the possibilities, I began getting a short rush, so I randomly picked out an officer leaving the PD and I followed them for several blocks. I followed behind one officer until I was able to get close enough to see it was a female officer. I continued to follow her for several blocks, and then managed to get in front of her. Eventually she turned down a road to a boys detention center, and I kept going straight.

The rush was gone, so I decided to find another officer to follow and turned back around and went back the same direction I had came from. At a light, I saw another officer pulling someone over, so I quickly got in the turn lane and went to observe what was happening. By the time the light had changed the female officer that I had followed early was in line 2 cars behind me, which gave me a little rush. But it also changed my plans of observing the other officer, because instead of pulling over and helping one of her buddies, she followed me. Adrenaline is beginning to surge.

I’m a little scared when I noticed she was checking me out pretty hard, so I quickly pulled into Wal-Mart and look for a parking place. I see her right behind and my adrenaline peaks. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I feel alive. Normal. I park and go inside for a little shopping as I watch her sitting one lane over talking on her radio.

When I came out the storms had moved into the area and cleaned the air. It felt wonderful outside and so did I. The problem I’m facing now, is wanting, obsessing about returning tomorrow morning for another visit.(DAMN it I know I'm going to!!) I don’t want to get into trouble with law enforcement, I just need the adrenaline to feel normal, and this is what’s working this time. So, I’m sorry guys (LEO), I mean no harm. If you see someone in your rear view mirror that looks like they are stalking you, you maybe right, but remember you wear a badge, gun, and probably a taser, so you’ll be alright.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Darkness Yells

Darkness Yells

Streetlight shadows
Pounding on my back
Until my inner conflict
has been resolved.

Waking with a feeling that I missed everything.
Shrugging off its timeless weight.
Closets without handles.
Smells like a rotting animal.
It was like inhaling bubbling hot lead.

My life in time
Will seal shut like a scar.

Glorious Day

Glorious Day

I had a late night of crying
Only thinking about dieing.
For hours all I could do was weep.
But then I had a good nights sleep.
No barking dogs or interruption.
No new housing construction.

Had a hot cup of de-caf Joe.
Gonna take the day real slow.
Took a steaming hot shower
Then got dressed, taking well over an hour.
Lookin good with my new shoes on my feet.
My make-up even looks sweet.

Satisfied with what I’d done
It was time to have some fun.
Called up my good friend Jen
And of course she was down to sin.
She brought the chronic
Now we’re feeling bionic.

So, today is a glorious day.
No suicidal thoughts
Or cuts to my wrist.
No burning scars,
Or feeling like I’m living on Mars.

The whole day went by
without me thinking about ways to die.
No suicide by cop,
No gun to my head,
No wishing I were dead.

Went to the store and found a good deal,
So I didn’t have to steal.
Didn’t feel abused or over used.
Didn’t have to cuss anybody out
Had no feeling of doubt.

Stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of brew,
Where we picked up another member of our crew.
Rolling through town, I ran through an intersection
But the cops didn’t even look in my direction.
With my friends in the car
I was feeling like a star.

My mind fully drenched
The memories of the past temporarily quenched.
Stopped off the picked up 3 guys,
I got the one with big blue eyes.
They followed up back to Jen’s house,
Where everything worked out.

It made my strong heart weak
When he placed a little kiss on my cheek.
Dammed for an eternity of sin
I let a little dribble down my chin.
Today was like a dream
Eating good tasting diet ice cream.

So, today is a glorious day.
No suicidal thoughts
Or cuts to my wrist.
No burning scars,
Or feeling like I’m living on Mars.

The whole day went by
without me thinking about ways to die.
No suicide by cop,
No gun to my head,
No wishing I were dead.

All day fighting against the notion
Of feeling the cold metallic motion.
Adrenaline flowing,
I had to keep going.
Staying awake by driving down well-known streets,
The native air is pure and sweet.
It’s past 3 in the morning,
And I should be home snoring.

All alone back at my place
I laid on my bed and stared off into space.
Heavy eyelids drooping low
For the day I had let my past go.
Far from the ocean and streams
My mind is swept into the land of dreams.

So, today is a glorious day.
No suicidal thoughts
Or cuts to my wrist.
No burning scars,
Or feeling like I’m living on Mars.

The whole day went by
without me thinking about ways to die.
No suicide by cop,
No gun to my head,
No wishing I were dead.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Sleep Brings No Joy

Sleep Brings No Joy


Sleep brings no joy to me,
Remembrance never dies;
My soul is given to misery,
And lives in sighs.

Sleep brings no rest to me;
In soundest sleep they come,
And with their doleful imagery
Deepen the gloom.

Sleep brings no strength to me,
No power renewed to brave;
I only sail a wilder sea,
A darker wave.

Sleep brings no friend to me
To soothe and aid to bear;
They all gaze on - how scornfully!
And I despair.

Sleep bring no wish to fret
My harassed heart beneath;
My only wish is to forget
In the endless sleep of death.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Merry Christmas



Hope everyone has a wonderful
Christmas!!!

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Alone

This is a poem I wrote back in high school... many of the feelings still hold true.

I get a funny feeling,
it comes from deep inside.
I get all mad and angry,
wanting to go and hide.

My doctor calls it depression,
my dad says it's just me.
But the thoughts and feelings,
no one will ever be able to see.

Some say I'm psycho,
some say I'm just weird.
It's like I'm a different person,
and the old me just disappeared.

I get really edgy,
I want to commit suicide real bad.
Then I get a headache,
followed by feeling sad.

I wish I could get help,
I wish it would go away.
Maybe if I keep praying real hard,
it will some day.

Saturday, December 06, 2008

Fuck my past!!!

Okay...I'm going to go throw up now... :(

Life...Look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.

Few things I’ve learned...


I've learned that you can get by on charm for about 15 minutes. After that, you'd better know something.

I've learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up.

I've learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I've learned that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

I've learned that writing can ease emotional pains.

I've learned that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

I've learned that learning to forgive takes practice.


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

When you look back on your life, will you regret the things you didn’t do more than the ones you did?

Life...Look at it and really see it...live it...and never give it back.

Thursday, November 06, 2008

I stopped fighting my inner demons we’re on the same side now.

I don’t care what they say,
so what if I’m a little bit crazy.
All alone in the rain.
I’m going under.

Sometimes I feel so frozen.
Trying not to hear what they are saying,
But they are talking so loud.

Everyone around me thinks I’m going crazy.
It’s draining all of me.
But I just don’t care what they say.

I can take a lot of pain.
All I have to do is laugh a little too loud.

I never meant to cause any problems.
I only want to be seen laughing in the rain.
I’ve had enough.
I’m letting myself go.

Even if the voices aren’t real, they have some good ideas.

I so fucking hate authority figures who are contentious, because in three seconds flat, I will return the favor. Talk to me normal and I’m fine, but jump stupid and I’ll show you stupid.

That’s what I had to deal with today. FUCKING Morons!!

Last week I was stopped by a really nice officer from Glenpool, for not signaling soon enough. OKAY. He was very polite as he waited on the call back to make sure my warrant, that he helped arrest me for, was all taken care of. OKAY. I told him that it was totally cleared up, but I couldn’t help but flash on the fact that the night before I had looked up my case online and saw it said, “T.C.M.W.P. NOTICE NON-COMPLETION - PART OF SENTENCE - FAILED TO REPORT”.

Of course I knew this information was incorrect, so the next morning, I called my attorney, and spoke with a lady who answered his phone. She told me that she would have my attorney call me back. (Which he never did.)

As I’m sitting there looking in the mirror at Officer G, I’m thinking I’m about to go to jail, so I start telling my 18 year old son, who is sitting next to me, what to do with the money in my purse just in case.

A few minutes later Officer G comes back up to my window, and hands me back my license, as he again apologizes. He informs me that my warrant is all clear. To nice. I smile, and he asks one last question. You know....the ‘do you have any weapons, knives, or drugs in the car?’ kind of question. I quickly respond with a no...thinking in my mind there better not be, because it’s my sons car. But he does have a couple friends who smoke marijuana, so I get a little adrenaline rush for just a moment. Then I tell him no again, because ‘I don’t smoke any more.’ Apparently, that’s not what he’s heard.

He apologizes once again, and tells me to have a nice day, without a ticket or a search of the car. (You would have wasted your time, there was nothing in the car...relief for me to.)

Now this is the difference that I’m talking about, Officer G was professional without being a dickhead. Even if it was a fucked up reason to stop me. (I needed a little boost of adrenaline, so I can’t complain.) Smile and I’ll smile back, but be a fucking AssClown and I will unleash my feral impulses. I’ll call you every name I can think of, and try to degrade you in any way possible. (Ask Officer C Smith about that one.)

The next day after the stop, I called someone at the court clerks office and talked to them about what was posted on the site: http://www.oscn.net/applications/oscn/casesearch.asp , which says that I hadn’t completed everything required of the court. I just wanted to make sure that a few months from now this all didn’t come back on me, and I get arrested for what is posted, even if it’s not correct. I’ve been through this court shit before and all it takes is one fucking moron to deliberately not put the correct information into the system, which is what I believe has happened this time.

After talking and almost arguing with a woman at the court clerks office, she finally told me I had to speak with someone in the Work Program and they would have to remove it from the system. Okay. So, I call and leave a message. No one calls back.

Today I decided to try and get this resolved once again. I was trying to speak once again with someone at the court clerks office in Tulsa, about what was posted on the site, and how to get it removed. I was told someone from the work program would have to send up some paper work to let them know that it was all clear, since they were the ones who sent the paper work stating I hadn’t done the work hours. I tried to explain this to some asshole named Curtis, but all he wanted to do was be an AssClown. Saying things like, ‘yeah sure, I’ll get right on that...’ In the most derogatory tone, that I instantly knew he had no plans of doing anything.

I became so frustrated that I hung up on him, calling him the asshole that he is, which led to him calling me back. He said he was going to do it, but after my attitude, he wouldn’t....and at that point I broke in and screamed at him, ‘no you weren’t. I could tell by the way you were talking you aren‘t going to do anything asshole. He continued to talk, I hung up, but not before screaming ASSHOLE... Into the phone. I’ve probably got a warrant now, just because this asshole thinks he better than me, and get’s off on degrading individuals. Fuck off you stupid ass bitch before I jump stupid and show you how much of a psycho I can really be.

All I've got to say is if I get arrested for this fuck-up, I will sue the shit out of this stupid bastard.